A Shadow in the Ember (Flesh and Fire, #1)

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

“But there was a time when Kolis loved mortals and his gods. Then, he slowly changed. I don’t think even his age can be blamed. His rot…it took him long before we lost him.”

“What Kolis did can’t be undone, but what my father did by placing what had to be his ember of life in you? Hidden away in a mortal bloodline this whole time? He made sure there was a chance for life.”

His head whipped toward me, eyes opening. “You feel it?” I swallowed, nodding. “I feel death.” A muscle ticked along his jaw. “What you feel are souls separating from their bodies.” Theon swore under his breath, and I stared up at Nyktos, having not thought of the fact that as the Primal of Death he would be able to feel it. Feel death when it happened. As I did.

“Oh, Nyktos, my boy,” the draken scraped out between rough laughs. “You have something…you shouldn’t have, and you know better. You’re going to be in so much trouble when he—” “Shut the fuck up,” Nyktos growled and brought his sword down.

“Do you really think I wanted to do this to you? To anyone? It was the only way we believed we could save our people. It was all I’d been taught. For my entire life. It’s all I’ve ever known.” My voice cracked, and I drew in another sharp, too-tight breath. “I would say I’m sorry, but you wouldn’t believe me. I don’t blame you for that, but don’t you dare insinuate that what I’ve done with you was purely an act or that what I’m feeling is fake when I’ve spent my entire godsdamn life not being allowed to want or even feel anything for myself! Not when I spent the last three years hating myself for the relief I felt when you didn’t take me because it meant I didn’t have to do what was expected of me.”

“I know what I am. I’ve always known. I am one of the worst sort. A monster,” I whispered, my voice hoarse. “But don’t you ever tell me how I feel.”

only then noticing the robe laid out at the foot of the bed. I stared at it in disbelief. Nyktos must’ve retrieved it. And I… I smacked my hands over my face. That hurt.

Walking forward as Bele closed the door behind me, I saw that Gemma’s hair, free of blood, was a light shade of blonde, only a few tones darker than mine.

“Kolis?” Bele demanded, and Gemma flinched again at the sound of his name. The woman nodded. “How did you know?” “I was…” Gemma pulled the blanket closer to her waist. “I was his favorite for a bit. He kept me…” She swallowed, stretching her neck, and Aios closed her eyes. “He kept me close to him for a while. He said he liked my hair.” She reached up, absently touching one of the light strands. “He talked about this…power he felt. He spoke about it all the time. Obsessed over it and said how he would do anything to find it. This presence. His graeca.” “Graeca?” I repeated. “It’s from the old language of the Primals,” Bele answered. “It means life, I believe.” “It also means love.” Aios’s eyes had opened. She frowned as she glanced at me. “The word is interchangeable.” “Like liessa?” I said, and she nodded. “Well, obviously, he is referencing life.” I imagined Kolis still believed that he was in love with Sotoria. “He felt the—the ripples of power I caused over the years. We know that.”

“I didn’t think his graeca was a person. He never spoke of it as if it were something living and breathing. He talked as if it were an object. A possession that belonged to him.”

“Last time I checked, I was mortal.” Cressa smiled just enough to reveal the tips of her fangs. “No. If it’s you we’ve been looking for, I’m not so sure about that.” A wave of unease shuttled through me as she rose and drifted back several steps. “But if you’re not? Well, our bad.” Cressa looked down at me with pitiless golden eyes. “We’ll find out soon enough if you were what the viktors were protecting.”

“Don’t forget, Sera. You are not afraid. You may feel fear, but you are never afraid.”

“Viktors.” Nyktos glanced at Saion and shook his head. “Been a long time since I’ve heard of them.” “Same.” Saion frowned as he studied me. “But it kind of makes sense if she had viktors, especially depending on what exactly your father did.” “They are…mostly mortal, born to serve one purpose,” Nyktos explained, sitting beside me. “To guard a harbinger of great change or purpose. Some are not aware of their duty, but they serve nonetheless through numerous mechanisms of fate—like being at the right place at the right time or introducing the one they’ve been destined to oversee to someone else. Others are aware and are part of the life of the one they’re protecting. Sometimes, they’re called guardians. In all the time I’ve heard of them, I’ve never known there to be more than one to protect any given person.”

“And by mostly mortal, what do you mean?” “He means they’re neither mortal nor god. But they are eternal, like the Fates,” Saion said. My brows lifted. “Well, that clarifies everything.” Saion smirked. “They are born into their roles, much like a mortal is born, but their souls have lived many lives.” “Reincarnated like Sotoria?” I asked. “Yes, and no.” Nyktos leaned back. “They live like mortals, serving their purpose. They die either in the process of doing that or long after they have served, but when they die, their souls return to Mount Lotho, where the Arae are, and are given physical form once more. They remain there until it is their time once again.”

“What I saw was just disjointed images. People ruling in the mortal realm that didn’t appear mortal—places I don’t think yet exist.” “Like what?” “Like cities forever laid to waste. Kingdoms shattered and rebuilt. Great and…terrible wars—wars between Kings…and between Queens.” Her brows pinched. “A forest made of trees the color of blood.” Nyktos frowned. “The Red Woods?” She nodded. “But in the mortal realm, and full of death. Steeped in the sins and secrets of hundreds and hundreds of years.”

“But I also saw her. I saw them. A Chosen and a descendant of the First.” The eather burned brightly in Penellaphe’s eyes as they met mine. “A Queen of Flesh and Fire. And him, a King risen from Blood and Ash, who ruled side by side with man. And they…they felt right. They felt like hope.”

From the desperation of golden crowns and born of mortal flesh, a great primal power rises as the heir to the lands and seas, to the skies and all the realms. A shadow in the ember, a light in the flame, to become a fire in the flesh. When the stars fall from the night, the great mountains crumble into the seas, and old bones raise their swords beside the gods, the false one will be stripped from glory until two born of the same misdeeds, born of the same great and Primal power in the mortal realm. A first daughter, with blood full of fire, fated for the once-promised King. And the second daughter, with blood full of ash and ice, the other half of the future King. Together, they will remake the realms as they usher in the end.’” She paused, looking up with eyes as bright as polished sapphires. “‘And so it will begin with the last Chosen blood spilled, the great conspirator birthed from the flesh and fire of the Primals will awaken as the Harbinger and the Bringer of Death and Destruction to the lands gifted by the gods. Beware, for the end will come from the west to destroy the east and lay waste to all which lies between.’”

“I think it’s safe to assume that the latter part is referencing my uncle. He is the great conspirator—the rightful Bringer of Death. He, along with my father, were born in the west.” Nyktos looked down at me. “They were born in the mortal realm. Roughly where present-day Carsodonia stands.” “And the last part of the prophecy means that he will destroy all the lands, from west to east, including the mortal realm?” I wiped my hands down my thighs. “Depends on how one defines Chosen,” Holland said. “It could be speaking of those chosen to serve the gods or…or those like you, chosen for a different purpose.” “And the ‘birthed from the flesh and fire of the Primals’ could mean a rebirth of sorts,” Nyktos said. “Not an actual birth.”

“There is never just one string that charts the course of a life or how that life will impact the realms.” Holland opened his hand, spreading his fingers wide. I gasped as numerous strands appeared, no thicker than a thread and shimmering a bright blue. “There are dozens for most lives. Some even have hundreds of possible outcomes. You.” His gaze lifted to me, and I swallowed. “You have had many strings. Many different paths. But they all ended the same.”

“Your paths have always ended in your death before you even saw twenty-one years of life.”

“The ember of life in you is strong enough to cause you to have the symptoms of the Culling, but it wasn’t strong enough to push you into the change. The symptoms would’ve eased off, but not now. Not with the blood of a powerful Primal in you. You will go into the Culling.”

“It’s an unexpected thread. Unpredictable. It is the unknown. The unwritten,” Penellaphe explained. “It is the one thing that not even the Fates can predict or control.” The corners of her lips turned up. “The only thing that can disrupt fate.”

“It’s love,” Holland answered. “Love is the one thing that not even fate can contend with.” I blinked. That was all I could do. Nyktos appeared to be as dumbstruck as I was, unable to formulate a single response. “Love is more powerful than fate.”

“Love is even more powerful than what courses through our veins, equally awe-inspiring and terrifying in its selfishness. It can extend a thread by sheer will, becoming that piece of pure magic that cannot be extinguished by biology, and it can snap a thread unexpectedly and prematurely.”

“Your body cannot withstand the Culling. Not without the sheer will of what is more powerful than fate and even death.” Holland looked to Nyktos. “Not without the love of the one who would aid her Ascension.”

“You’re talking about the blood of a god. Saying that I would need the blood of a god who loves me?” I couldn’t believe I was even speaking the words. “Not just a god. A Primal. And not just any Primal.” Penellaphe’s blue eyes fixed on Nyktos. “The blood of the Primal the ember belonged to—that and the pure will of love can unravel fate.”

“This isn’t fair,” I said hoarsely, angry at everything. “To do this to him.” “To do this to me?” he rasped as silvery streaks of eather appeared in the shadows swirling around him. “This isn’t fair to you.” “It’s not fair to either of you,” Penellaphe stated softly. “But life, fate, or love rarely is, is it?”

“You are a warrior, Seraphena. You always have been. Just like she learned to become.” Tiny bumps rose all over my skin. “No.” He shook his head. “You have had many names.” “No,” I repeated. “You have lived many lives,” he continued. “But it is that one, the first one, that Eythos remembered when he answered Roderick Mierel’s summons. He always remembered her.” Nyktos had once again gone deathly still. “You’re not saying what I think you are.” “I am.” “Eythos could be considered impulsive by many, but he was wise,” Holland said, sadness creeping into his eyes. “He knew what would come of Kolis’s actions. Kolis was never meant to be the Primal of Life.

“So, this is what he did. He hid the ember of life where it could be safe and where it could grow in power until a new Primal was ready to be born—in the one being that could weaken his brother.” “I can’t be her. There’s no way. I’m not Sotoria. I’m…” My words faded as the rest of what she’d said broke through. A new Primal was ready to be born…

Born of mortal flesh, a shadow in the ember,’” Nyktos repeated slowly, and then his chest rose in a sharp breath. “What Holland said about no gods rising in power is true. That hasn’t happened since my father placed the ember in your bloodline. But you did it.” “I…I didn’t mean to,” I started. “But I think that’s the least of my concerns right now.” “You’re right. That is the least of our concerns right now, but it is what that means.” Nyktos turned to the Fate. “Isn’t it? It’s her.” Holland nodded. “All life—in both realms—has only continued to come into creation because the Mierel bloodline carried that ember. Now, she carries the only ember of life in both realms. She is why life continues.” Holland’s eyes met mine and held. “If you were to die, there would be nothing but death in all the kingdoms and all the realms.”

“It does.” Slowly, Nyktos turned back. His gaze met mine, and he didn’t look away. He didn’t blink. “It’s you.” A sort of wonder filled his features, widening his eyes and parting his lips. “You are the heir to the lands and seas, skies and realms. A Queen instead of a King. You are the Primal of Life.”