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

by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Anger crowded out the shock, mottling and twisting his features. Men and their fragile egos. They were so easy to manipulate.

“What does liessa mean?” The god didn’t answer for what felt like a small eternity. “It has different meanings to different people.” The eather pulsed in his eyes, swirling once more through the silver. “But all of them mean something beautiful and powerful.”

“Did you kill that man?” Smoothing out the skirts of the gown, I crossed my ankles. “I believe he slipped and fell upon my blade.” “Was it his throat that fell upon your blade?” “Odd, right?”

“Men with careless fists should be more mindful of where they step.” A faint smile appeared on Ezra’s face. “You know, you do frighten me a little.”

“You still could’ve said something so I wasn’t just standing there—” “Like a goddess made of silver and moonbeams, rising from the depths of the darkest lake?” he finished.

“Gods,” I rasped. He looked over his shoulder as he pulled the sword free. “Impressed?” “No,” I lied, jerking back a step

“I am known as the Asher,” he said, and I shuddered. Is it short for something? I’d asked when he told me his name. It is short for many things. “The One who is Blessed. I am the Guardian of Souls and the Primal God of Common Men and Endings.” His voice traveled through the Great Hall, and absolute silence answered. I could barely force air through my lungs. “I am Nyktos, ruler of the Shadowlands, the Primal of Death.”

“I’m about to get my daily dose of entertainment.” Ector sighed as he rose. “There’s something wrong with you.” “There’s something wrong with all of us.” “This won’t end well.” “When does it ever?” Saion asked. “Who?” the Primal snarled, jerking my attention to where he stood. Fury radiated from him, and I had…I had never heard him sound like that. “Who took part in this?”

I gripped the saddle’s pommel to keep myself from turning around and doing something reckless. Say, punching a Primal who had turned a mortal to dust with a single look, for example.

“It is not often that a Primal dies. The loss of a being so powerful can create a ripple effect that can even be felt in the mortal realm. Could even set in motion an event that has the potential to unravel the fabric that binds our realms together.” He swished the remaining liquid in his glass. “The only way to prevent that from occurring is to have their power—their eather—transferred to another who can withstand it.”

“To watch the world fall and be rebuilt around you, time after time. To see nothing new. To no longer be surprised and to become so accustomed to loss that even the idea of love is no longer a thrill.”

“Don’t do that.” “Do what?” “Smile at me,” he murmured, the silver in his eyes swirling. “Why?” “Because when you do that, there’s utterly nothing I would not allow you to do to me.”

“My father was the true Primal of Life.” Ash’s cool fingers touched my cheek. “Until his brother stole it from him. His twin, Kolis.”

“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 you think that the mortals killed by those gods were these viktors?”

“Penellaphe?” Surprise filled Nyktos’ tone. “Hello, Nyktos.” She straightened, stepping forward. She glanced briefly in my direction.

“Spirits of Fate—the Arae—are like gods.” Nyktos reached over, pulling my hand away from Holland. “They are not like the spirits near your lake.”

“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.”

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.’” She exhaled unsteadily. “That’s…that’s it.”

“What exactly are you saying?” I asked. “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.”

“If you were to die, there would be nothing but death in all the kingdoms and all the realms.”

“You are the heir to the lands and seas, skies and realms. A Queen instead of a King. You are the Primal of Life.”