Chapter 54
—Connak—
Kienna slept restlessly. Her mind grappled with the information Connak gained from the living quarters. She brushed everything she learned off as a coincidence and a fable better left in the pages. Why was it coming back up in her sleep?
When her mind finally settled into a deeper rest, the sun had risen high in the sky, blaring a bright yellow glow against the shattered walls.
Connak picked up the books and stood from the couch, his hand brushing against Moira’s bedroom door before pulling his boots on and slipping out of the apartment.
Dove Port smelled of burned wood, coated in the dust of crumbled stone.
The sound of hammers and steel rang out while men and women heaved their bodies into patching buildings and tossing old material into fires.
Connak weaved through the brittle streets and over blasted cobblestones from the effects of magical runes exploding.
Even now, he felt the buzzing remnants of the armies tearing through the city.
When Connak turned the corner to the workshop, the scent of sawdust hit him first. It was sharp and earthy, comforting in the way that made his shoulders drop a little.
The workshop stood half-swallowed by ruin, its timber frame scorched and split, and the roof patched with mismatched shingles and canvas.
A tree branch broke through one of the wide walls, now half cleared away, revealing a clutter of tools and shavings with a man who refused to stop working simply because the world around him collapsed.
A rhythmic scraping carried through the open doorway, each pull of a blade across wood echoing like a heartbeat through the fractured silence.
“Ash,” Connak said, studying the old man in front of him.
“Calder,” Ash corrected without looking up.
Connak sat. “I’m here about Kienna.”
Ash turned, eyes wide. He straightened his shoulders and faced Connak, recognition dawning on him. “Tell me she made it through.”
Connak’s heart sank as he focused on the man’s brown eyes, grasping for hope through the sinking ship inside. Moira mentioned they never got word back from the Elvish after they left the battle. He didn’t realize the weight of it until he stood before Ash. “She’s okay,” he assured the woodcarver.
A breath of relief poured from his lips.
“Kienna is here, in Dove Port. She means to find you, but I need your help first.”
“I take it this is regarding my daughter’s books you carry?” Ash brushed his hands on the leather, encompassing the fine lines and faded engravings.
“She’s lost. She doesn’t know how to disentangle herself from the web that…” Connak tempered the weight of his words. “The web that Vaerin has her in.”
Ash’s eyes glazed over with shadows at the sound of his child’s name ringing through the disheveled workshop. His palms shook faintly, a motion he tried to mask by squeezing his fingers.
The door creaked open behind them. A shaft of sunlight cut through the workshop dust, revealing soft particles in the air.
Connak turned. Kienna stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the warm line.
Although she stood composed, she curled her hands tightly at her sides.
Her eyes wavered. She stepped in, coldness cutting to Connak.
“My girl,” Ash cried.
Kienna softened, cupping her hands around the creased skin on his face. “GranAsh.”
Connak smiled comfortably, the natural chemistry between them flickering like a flame that could never be extinguished. They needed space. This was where he needed her. He didn’t know how he knew, but Ash would give her what she needed.
He stepped out into the light again, letting the door fall shut behind him with a hush of wood against wood.
Connak leaned against the sun-warmed wall of the workshop, books still cradled under one arm, and glanced down.
A soft breeze danced through the narrow street, stirring a few curls of wood shavings near his feet.
They lifted, swirled once, then scattered.
—Kienna—
“The Elvish man.” Ash pointed toward the door. “He holds your heart? I thought it was the other boy. The healer.”
Kienna sat next to Ash, though guilt tugged at her. Danek barely got a goodbye from her. She left him in that room alone and ran away. She wasn’t even sure she’d go back to Trinity now. Moira needed her. She shouldn’t have left him.
I told you to bring him, Ruva said, her shadow towering in the window.
Brushing her aside, Kienna grasped Ash’s hand.
She needed to remember this moment more than she realized.
This man held everything about her in his memory, through his blood.
He could tell her endless stories of Avenna’s childhood, dreams she dared to dream.
He could help her understand King Vaerin.
Why did he turn? What made killing her mother for magic more important than the true cause they started?
It was the comfort in the sound of carving wood that steadied her instead. Even in the tensest moments, he picked up a knife and sliced pieces of wood to build something new in the rubble.
Kienna smiled.
Ash set his tools down, turning to her. “What are you looking for inside that heart of yours?”
Kienna thought back to the books that kept her awake all night. “Why would Vaerin name me Kienna?”
“You think he did?” Ash chuckled. He leaned forward; his eyes pressed cautiously on her.
“You don’t?”
“I can’t pretend to know much about what happened with my children after Avenna took to your father, but I know my Ave. She named you, and it branded itself right there on your thumb when she did.”
“What makes you say that?” Kienna asked, uncertain as her hand brushed the K imprinted on her skin.
Ash hesitated, his gaze trailing toward the corner of his workshop where dust gathered in thin, untouched layers. His fingers, once steady with the grain of wood, shook. He stood and stepped away from the table. The workshop went silent. Even the light dimmed.
“I have something for you,” he said, voice lower.
He reached beneath one of the older benches where scraps of carved pine gathered.
From the shadows, he pulled out a tightly folded parcel of parchment wrapped in a strip of blue-dyed linen faded almost to gray.
The threads were frayed but knotted with care.
It was as if someone knew how to say goodbye without saying it aloud.
“Before Avenna left for the forest with your father, she left this with me. Told me to hold onto it until I knew the time was right. I didn’t know what that meant.
No time ever felt right between the aches of losing her and…
Vaerin. I think now feels right, and I am certain she meant for you to have this. ”
Kienna reached for the paper like a child desperate for contact.
Hints of sage and berries still lingered in the folds of the parchment.
She committed the smell to memory, thinking this must have been how her mother smelled when she was alive.
Kienna held it for a moment, the folded edges warm against her skin.
How did Maren know about this letter?
With a gut-wrenching turn, Kienna unfolded it and read, her breath catching in her chest the moment she started.
My dearest Kienna,
Tears surfaced in Kienna’s eyes, her heart swelling into a bubble. She glanced at Ash, but she realized he didn’t know the letter’s contents, only its purpose. She took a deep breath and continued.
If you are reading this, it means the world has spun paths we could not predict…
or maybe we could, and that’s why I’m writing.
I pray to the Eternal Mother with every breath that I’m there to tell you these words myself, and maybe I’m overthinking what Vaerin is becoming…
but if not, let this be my voice reaching across time to tell you how much I loved you before I even knew you existed.
I wish you were born into peace, into the world your father and I desperately tried to build for you. Unfortunately, we are now wild ones. Our rebellion against the eternal rules carved into old stone has created a lot of risk, but your father and I would make that choice again and again for you.
I hope you know how strong you are. How strong you’re meant to be.
Because I do. When Vaerin tried to snatch me away for magic, it was you and the flicker of your power in my womb that tethered me back to life.
You saved me before you even knew what the world was.
Your magic will be a rare kind, my daughter.
It will be forged not by one people, but by all.
You are a bridge between the broken pieces of this world.
I truly believe that. But you must tread carefully among those who seek to control old magic.
My brother, Vaerin, seeks what he doesn’t understand, and I fear it will control him until the very end.
And your father’s kin…they will see your power as a threat to the old order of things. Never let them chain it.
Kienna’s hand brushed over her charm. It was meant to save her from Vaerin, wasn’t it?
Elowen should have given you my books. They were my favorites as a child, reading about powerful warriors.
Selfishly, I named you after my favorite character.
Kienna—the one who rose from ruin to lead with the fire of her heart.
It was a name born from hope that I knew was right the moment you threaded your life to mine.
Who knows if all those folklores are true, but I believe you are a child who will walk paths where others have fallen and help us unite what others would burn before they understood.
I won’t pretend that your life will be easy.
Unfortunately, we are your parents, and we did not carve a gentler road ahead.
But know this: You can change the world.
You are my wild, fierce daughter. Never let the world tame the fire in your heart. They will certainly try to break you.
Remember, you are not a weapon. You are a promise. You are my greatest hope.
My greatest love.
You were loved from the first heartbeat and beyond the last.
With all I was and all I ever dared to dream,
Your mother,
Avenna
The letter slipped from Kienna’s fingers, floating and settling against her thigh.
She sat motionless in the growing light of the workshop, shoulders square, chin lifted, as if the weight of her mother’s words had not crushed her.
No, not crushed at all. They reforged her.
Even now, she could feel the tethered life she gave to her mother, the branded K tingling deeply in her skin.
Ruva stuck her head in through the window. You are Kienna.
Kienna smiled. The Ashborn.