A ​Sky Beyond the Storm (An Ember in the Ashes, #4)

by Sabaa Tahir

“How many blades hidden in that skirt?” “Five—no, wait—” She shifts from foot to foot. “Seven.”

I want sand and stories and a clear night sky. I want to stare up into pale gray eyes filled with love and that edge of wickedness I ache for. I want to know what he said to me in Sadhese, a year and a half ago, when we danced at the Moon Festival in Serra. I want Elias Veturius back.

Then I tug on my boots and grab the carved wooden armlet I always find myself working on—though I don’t recall where it came from.

“I do not care what it takes, nor how long. I will defeat you, Nightbringer.”

“Elias Veturius yet lives. And it is imperative that he live, for the Great War approaches, and it is not the Soul Catcher who will win it, it is Elias Veturius. It is not the Soul Catcher who is an ember in the ashes, it is Elias Veturius. It is not the Soul Catcher who will spark and burn, ravage and destroy. It is Elias Veturius.”

“But they did not defy the Nightbringer. Laia did. Rejoice,” Rehmat says, “For the path is set. Now our young warrior must walk it. But if she is to defy the Meherya, I cannot live within her mind.”

“It was never one. It was always three. The Blood Shrike is the first. Laia of Serra, the second. And the Soul Catcher is the last. The Mother watches over them all. If one fails, they all fail. If one dies, they all die. Go back to the beginning and there, find the truth. Strive even unto your own end, else all is lost.”

No, no. These memories are folly, for emotion has no place in my world. Mauth, I cry out. Help me. But he does not respond.

Laia only raises her eyebrows. “I mean it, Shrike,” she says. “You are very beautiful. It’s no wonder he cannot keep his eyes off you.”

“A Scholar rebel and a Martial Blood Shrike are friends and the sky didn’t fall in. Whatever shall we do?”

“The Nightbringer weakened your powers early on,” Rehmat says. “That was before you woke me. You are stronger now. You can disappear. You can even hide those with you.”

Another boat of soldiers bashes into ours and now Avitas is at the Shrike’s back, swift and otherworldly. They are a four-armed monster, destroying, deflecting, defying Keris’s men to come closer.

I feel a fierce pang of longing for Elias. He saw my strength long before I did.

“We’re not going through the Waiting Place, Musa,” I say. “You of all people understand what it means to have the love of your life turned into someone else. I don’t want to see him again. Ever.”

Every moment in the Soul Catcher’s cabin has been torture. Every second of staring at that dead-eyed thing in the body of the boy I loved makes me want to burn the place down. Shake those big shoulders. Kiss him. Hit him. I want to make him angry or sad. Make him feel something.

“You’ve given up on him,” he says.

“Elias as we knew him is gone.” “Maybe.” Tas shrugs. “But I think that if you were the one who got chained up in the forest, Elias would never give up. If you had forgotten how much you loved him, he’d find a way to make you remember. He’d keep fighting until he brought you back.”

“The fate of millions rises or falls with your strength, Laia of Serra,” Rehmat says. “You challenged the Nightbringer. You woke me. Together, we must stop him from the apocalypse he wishes to inflict upon the world. Such willful ignorance is beneath you. You do not wish to abandon Elias Veturius. Accept it.”

“I am not—I will fight the Nightbringer. I will destroy him and not because you tell me to. But Elias—the Soul Catcher—he has nothing to do with this.” “He does and your heart knows it. Go against its wishes at your own peril.”

“My heart”—I draw myself up—“fell in love with a murderous jinn. It cannot be trusted.” “Your heart is the o...

“Be safe, little sister,” he says, and there is no laughter in his voice anymore. “It’s just us now.”

Or perhaps she’s simply beautiful, and looking at her feels like sunlight flowing into a room lost to the darkness for too long.

“My name is not Elias.” “It is to me.”

“For me, Elias, desire is not simple. It is not shelter. It is not warmth. It is a fire that offers no light, only heat, ruinous and consuming. The longer you deny it, the hotter it burns. You forget shelter. You forget warmth. There is only that which you want and cannot have, and the desolation that follows.”

“I cannot think why. There is so much less work for you, now that you have no ghosts to pass.”

The Nightbringer glides closer. Shadows seethe around him, deeper than before and eerily alive. They writhe with some fey devilry that drags on him like a weight. Despite that, his power is unaffected. If anything, he appears stronger.

“What of it, Soul Catcher? Would you like another ghost for your kingdom? Or maybe I will reap her soul too. Would you let her die, knowing her spirit will never cross the river?”

You are a torch against the night—if you dare to let yourself burn.

Skies, I hurt so many. And I only realize it now, at the end, when I am a torch no more, but an ember with no air, the great dark closing in forever.

The son of shadow and heir of death Will fight and fail with his final breath. Sorrow will ride the rays of the day, The earth her arena and man her prey. In flowerfall, the orphan will bow to the scythe. In flowerfall, the daughter will pay a blood tithe.

“He’s playing a tune and you are dancing to it. That is your concern. The Nightbringer wants you chained to the Waiting Place. It serves his purposes perfectly. Because if you are trying to control things there, you are not fighting out here.”

“You died, Elias, and still you could not let yourself fail. You promised to save Darin and so you did, though it led to your own imprisonment. You promised to serve Mauth and so you do, though it will lead to the destruction of my people. You are so—so—” She throws up her hands. “So stubborn! And the Nightbringer knows it! He is counting on it, for it allows him to wreak havoc in the human world without anyone to stop him.”

“You’re tough and smart. You’re a survivor, Laia. You always have been.”

Home, I tell myself. I am home. But it doesn’t feel like home anymore. It feels like a prison.

“When I was in the tunnels,” I say, “and I thought I was going to die, I thought about you.”

“I’ve known him all my life, Harper. We survived Blackcliff together. Skies, he tried to kill me once or twice when we were Fivers. But when I was crawling through that tunnel, when I knew he was fighting and dying for me, all I could think was that I was so thankful it wasn’t you up there. Because if it had been, we’d have died together.”

“I was the Beloved. Now I am something else.”

“You might seek to deny her, but you cannot. Fate will always lead you back to her, for good or for ill.”

Would that we all knew the cracked terrain of each other’s broken hearts. Perhaps then, we would not be so cruel to those who walk this lonely world with us.

Suddenly, he is charging through the Karkauns and beside me once more, limping but alive. I grab his arm, ensuring that he’s real, and he glances up in surprise. “You—” Bleeding hells, I think I am crying. No. It’s sweat. It must be. “You’re—”

My mind snags on one word: Fearless. For I am not fearless. To be fearless means to have a heart of steel. But my heart betrayed itself. It is soft and hopeful. And I know now that it belongs entirely to Avitas Harper. No matter how I wish to deny it, my reaction when I thought him dead tells me I am fully, foolishly in love with him. He is the weak spot in my armor, the flaw in my defense. Damn my traitorous heart to the hells.

“I am called Rehmat and am a creature of flame, like you, my king,”

“But born elsewhere, that I might live among the humans for a time and understand them. I have bled with them and battled with them, but Mauth bid me join you, for my destiny lies now with our people.”

“You have found your purpose, my king. You have much magic in you. I still seek mine. When I find my power, I will return. This, I vow.”

I cared for her during those difficult months, and something kindled between us, a soul-deep fire that others had found but that had, until then, eluded me. My heart was hers, and I knew that if she did not wish to become my queen, I would never have one.

“The river that did this to you,” I say. “I don’t like it.”

“But you and I are more alike than you know, and that’s not a compliment. You’re in a position of great power, Shrike. It’s a lonely place to be. Most leaders spend their lives using others. Being used. Love isn’t just a luxury for you. It’s a rarity. It’s a gift. Don’t throw it away.”

“You are lucky enough to love someone who loves you back. He is alive and breathing and in the same vicinity as you. By the skies, do something about it. For however long you have. For whatever time you get. Because if you don’t, I swear that you’ll regret it. You’ll regret it for all your years.”

In his hands, I am beautiful, sacred, beloved. Beneath his lips, I am undone.

“Thank you, Soul Catcher.” “Elias,” he says after a moment, the slightest bit of warmth entering those cold gray eyes. “From you I prefer Elias.”