Chapter Fifty-Nine
“STAY CLOSE TO ME.” I SQUEEZED Rook’s hand.
I hated how much I needed her—how much I relied on her to stop me from accidental mass murder. Really, I should’ve mastered my temper before stepping into public.
I was still too used to walls and silence to be safe in a busy village. The noise. The press of bodies. The stink of sweat and life. It all scraped against my nerves until the fire roared for peace.
Going to Brimstone this soon was also a mistake, but...Marcus’s silence irritated me. He was up to something. And before he had the chance to bring a battle to me, I intended to bring it to him—along with carving out his heart and barbecuing it for Whisper.
“I’ll make sure you don’t incinerate the poor chap by mistake,” Rook whispered as we chased after the old man who was far faster than he appeared.
The labyrinth of pathways between the buildings took us deeper and deeper into the village. Smells of cooking and snatches of conversation surrounded us as we wove around homes before spilling out into a common area. A communal eating table, drinking well, and ancient temple sat proudly in the sun.
Beckoning us to follow, the old man stepped through the open metal gates of the temple and vanished inside.
Rook and I slowed as we studied the place of worship. The timber had gone silver with age, the tiled roof sagging in the centre. Red lanterns swung from the eave corners; their tassels dull and frayed from bad weather.
Neither of us spoke as we climbed the three steps and entered the gloomy space.
Incense smoke clung to the walls, hazy and rich, coiling from multiple sticks that’d been lit in honour of the rows upon rows of memorial tablets. So many plaques—wood and brass, bronze and tin—hundreds of them standing like sentinels, balanced on shelves from floor to ceiling.
The old man bowed politely at the central offerings plinth before heading to a temporary table where pots, soil mix, and seeds waited to be planted.
That explained why he was so filthy.
On the floor, pots that’d already been planted waited.
He caught me looking. “I’m planting white chrysanthemums for the dead.” His hands shook a little as he made a bed of soil, dug his thumb in, and tucked a seed tight in the divot. “I’ve been the custodian of Mistwood Temple ever since they took you away.”
The fire inside me smoked with warning. “You knew when I was taken?”
I glanced around the space. Was this a trap? Was Marcus behind this and I’d stupidly stepped into it?
Not that it mattered.
Even if Marcus swarmed this entire village with a thousand men, he wouldn’t be able to touch me.
Not now.
Did that make me arrogant or just realistic?
The old man nodded. Grabbing another pot, he repeated what he’d just done. “I used to be a gardener at Ashfall Cliff. I worked happily under Head Steward Wen and often saw you when you were a boy.”
I tried to recall his face but failed. “I’m sorry, I don’t remember.”
He didn’t reply for a while, focusing on spraying his newly planted seed with water. “You don’t remember other things either...do you?”
“Remember what?” My hand wrapped tighter around Rook’s, grateful when her arctic energy flowed through me, snuffing out the fires that kept springing to life.
Abandoning his potting, the old man locked eyes with me.
“Back then, we all knew you were different. We all watched you grow up. No one would’ve said a damn thing.
We loved your family. We loved that you employed so many of us and granted such wealth to these remote villages. So...when they took you—”
“Wait. How was I different?”
“It was Housekeeper Mei who noticed first.” He pivoted and answered my question. “She was the one who taught us how to keep it a secret. How to make up stories to protect what you’d done.”
Rook sucked in a breath. “What he’d done?”
The man nodded, his gaze on mine. “Exactly like what you did before. On the road. You know...with the heat?” He shrugged with a wistful smile.
“You made the ground crack as if you weighed as much as the mountain itself. You made the air shimmer as if you harnessed the sun. When you were a child, you did that too. You regularly burned the furniture in your room and the carpenter in the village had a full-time job repairing what you singed.”
“So that’s why she didn’t seem surprised,” Rook muttered. “She just looked resigned.”
“Who did?” I turned to face her, our fingers still entwined.
“Auntie Mei. When I woke up and you were missing—the night we fell into the waterfall, and...you know.” She flinched as if the memories of sex and setting the valley on fire weren’t suitable for a temple full of ghosts.
“She noticed the state of your room—the warped walls and scorched handprints. She acted as if it wasn’t a big deal. ”
“It wasn’t a big deal. We were all used to it,” the old man said, his voice wobbling a little.
“We knew you were different, but we didn’t care.
We were honoured. We thought you were a little god descended from the heavens to watch over us, so when you were taken.
..” His eyes clouded over. “We knew instantly that something had gone wrong.”
The smell of sandalwood and ash clogged my throat. “What do you mean?”
“After you left...the mountain got hungry.” He wobbled against the table, tapping his head as if fact and fiction tangled inside.
“People went missing and we could never find them.” His gaze locked on the memorial tablets looming over us.
“First it was just a few. Unlucky and lost but no one panicked. But I knew.” He tapped his scruffy shirt right above his heart.
“I was the only one who heard the screams.”
“Screams?” Rook stiffened. “What screams?”
The old man swayed toward the incense sticks as if hypnotised by their smoke.
“Men went first but then...women. My wife.” He spun to face us, his face slipping further from sanity with every word.
“She vanished into nothing.” He looked at his hands as if water spilled through his fingers.
“I spent three years searching for her. And I found nothing. Not a scrap of clothing or a single lock of hair.”
The flames in me grew stronger, crashing against Rook’s frost.
“The screams grew louder out there.” He flung his arm at the forest in the distance. “I moved away from the village, hoping she would be able to find me easier. But then children went missing. It was as if the very air snatched them straight from their beds.”
“And everyone just accepted this?” I scowled.
“The gods did it.” He whirled on me, his face contorting in rage. “They took them, just like they took you. I looked. I looked everywhere. That was all my life became. Looking. Searching. Hoping.”
“And you found nothing? No remains? No sign of them?”
“Not a drop of blood or single bone.” His laugh was brittle. “And how would we? They were stolen by people like you. People with power. Taken to the netherworlds to be devoured.”
“People like me?”
So we weren’t the only ones?
There were others like Rook and me?
“People with gifts.” He glanced warily at the door as if monsters were listening. “They’re eating people to become gods.”
“Eating people. Right.” My tension switched to annoyance. These were just the ramblings of an old fool.
“They even eat the bones.” He leaned closer, his eyes alight with madness. “That’s why we never find any remains.”
I wanted to shake him.
To interrupt his psychosis and drag the truth out of his damaged mind before my temper did it for me.
“They are. I know they are. But I know where the entrance is. I know how to get there.” He nodded as if he held the world’s biggest secret.
“I keep telling everyone that the mountain swallowed them and we must make it give them back but...” Staggering toward me, he whispered like a drunk who thought he was being subtle. “No one believes me, but you must.”
Stabbing me in the chest with his finger, he caused fire to whip around my bones. “You believe me, don’t you? You’re not like the others. You have to help me. You must because you’re the only one who’s ever come back. You must’ve been there, yes? You must’ve seen? You know how to get free.”
“What would he have seen?” Rook asked gently, taking over so I didn’t hurt him. “What would—?”
“The mountain where they’re swallowed, of course.” His eyes lit up with an unnatural light. “You have to find them. Quickly. Before it’s too late.”
She shot me a worried look.
This man needed serious help.
“I went there,” he whispered suddenly.
“Where? Where did you go?” Rook tried to bring him back, talking gently as if he was a child.
“The eastern peak.” He hugged himself with a shiver. “The trees are so thick, and the cliffs are so steep. No one goes there but I did. And the screams...they’re so loud.” His eyes widened. “I went further than anyone dared to go. I-I almost got in. Almost saw. But there were too many of them.”
“Too many what?” I wanted to leave. To get far away from this nonsense.
“Demons.” He shuddered. “So many demons. Making everyone scream.” He swayed, steadying himself against the table.
“It’s not the wind. I know it’s not.” He glowered at the door as if a crowd of villagers suddenly jostled in the temple’s doorway.
“No one believes me. But I know. They’re screaming.
” He tapped his temple again. “The sound gnaws away inside me.” He whirled on us.
“The mountain eats them! It eats babies because they’re soft and drinks blood because it’s ravenous. You have to believe me!”
“Hey, it’s okay.” Rook slipped her hand from mine, leaving me at the mercy of my flames. She stepped toward the man as if he was a panicking animal. “You’re alright. You’re safe—”
“But they’re not safe!” he shouted, his voice echoing off the beams. “They cry and cry and cry and no one listens! No one believes me. The mountain is full of them. Full of teeth and blood and fire!”
Footsteps sounded behind us.