Chapter 32
She returned to the labyrinth with a gasp, already feeling for the skeleton key in her cloak pocket.
Her heart raced as she unlocked the next door.
Ezer found herself standing right on the edge of a northern wood. The air was crisp with the feeling of fall, her favorite time, even in Rendegard.
The aspens danced in the wind, leaves the color of burnished gold.
Tucked inside them, just at the edge of the wood, was a small cottage with a thatched roof and a white picket fence. And just beyond it, standing in a lovely little garden, was Styerra. Ezer unlatched the gate and approached, her steps soundless.
Styerra held a letter in her hands.
A letter from Ervos.
Ezer would know his handwriting anywhere.
My dearest friend,
I’m not able to visit to tell you in person. But you deserve to know.
Erath has indeed paid his eternal penance.
I know this news will pain you, as it pains me.
Perhaps, in some way, this will give you the freedom to move on.
I will visit soon.
Yours,
E
A single tear rolled down Styerra’s cheek as she turned away and placed her trembling hands over her belly.
The ring from Erath was still on her finger.
It winked in the sunlight as she headed inside.
Ezer entered another door.
This time she was back at the cottage, while Styerra and Ervos tended to the flowers in the garden. A baby Ezer slept soundly in a basket beside them. She was perfect, with round cheeks and not a mark of claws upon them.
Butterflies danced through the spring foliage. A chicken scratched at the ground, searching for bugs.
And a raven sat perched in a tree overhead, watching Ezer’s basket like a guardian.
Styerra was laughing, her smile bright as Ervos tucked a flower behind her ear. She smiled and stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek.
She paused.
And then, slowly, questioningly … she kissed him on the lips.
Ervos gasped against her.
‘I … I’m sorry,’ Styerra said and pulled away. Ezer noticed, then, how she still wore Erath’s ring. Styerra reached down to it almost instinctively, twisting it with worried fingertips. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
Ervos looked up, his mouth frozen open like he was lost for words.
‘Please don’t make it weird,’ Styerra said.
‘Why would I make it weird?’ Ervos asked, raising his red brows. ‘I think … that I might live the rest of my life in wanting, Styerra, if you don’t kiss me again.’
So she leaned in for another, just before a whip cracked in the distance.
The moment broke.
‘More soldiers,’ Styerra said as she peered across the woods. A whole troupe of them, nomages marching north. ‘In the village, they say people are disappearing. They tell terrible stories of monsters in the night.’
He spun to face her. ‘You promised not to go to town.’
‘I only needed flour for bread,’ Styerra said. ‘I was careful. No one spoke to me.’
He sighed and pulled her to him. ‘The only monsters out there are men, Styerra. The ones who would give good coin to bring you in. I just want you safe here. With me. Promise me you won’t leave this place again.’
‘Okay,’ Styerra whispered.
This time when Ervos held her, the happiness had left her eyes.
Another memory unfolded behind the next door.
There were muffled voices as Ervos and Styerra argued.
They didn’t want to wake Ezer, who slept soundly in her small basket at the foot of the bed.
‘Where did you get it?’ Ervos was saying. ‘Is this why you keep going into town?’
He pointed to the table, where a worn black book sat.
Small. Insignificant.
But powerful enough to reshape someone’s entire mind.
Styerra shook her head. ‘I wasn’t even searching for the Tome, Ervos … but there it was in the village, almost calling my name. The merchant gave it to me, free of charge. And this time, the pages weren’t empty.’
‘What do you mean?’ Ervos asked, carefully reined fury in his voice.
‘I mean Erath was right,’ she breathed. ‘This whole time, he was right about the Shadow Tome. I’m such a fool for not seeing it before, but … I’m taking Ezer with me. We’re going north, to find freedom beyond the Sawteeth.’
Ervos looked horrified. ‘What?’
‘Come with us,’ Styerra said. ‘We’ll go together, discover a new way of living, a new god to—’
Ervos stood so fast his chair tipped over. The baby Ezer flinched but settled, still fast asleep. ‘You’ll get her killed, Styerra. The wolves are out, hungry for blood.’
‘I have faith now,’ Styerra said. ‘We’ll make it there alive.’
‘Faith?’ He let out a bitter chuckle. ‘I’ve done all I could to keep you safe. To keep her safe. I’ve given you all of me. And still … I am not enough. Your heart always goes back to him. Even in the grave.’
A tear slid down his cheek as he looked at the ring she still wore on her finger.
And he turned and walked towards the cottage door.
‘Where are you going?’ Styerra asked. ‘Don’t walk away from us again.’
He left the cottage without looking back.
The memory shifted. Now it was dark.
She was outside in the wind, in the snow.
And something was not right.
She stood outside the cottage. The moon was high in the sky, illuminating the shapes of wings and snouts that stalked about.
Shadow wolves, hungry for blood.
Ezer sucked in a breath.
This was the night her mother died.
Fires raged in the background, showing distant trees and cottages ablaze. Ezer looked around frantically, as if she could find her. Save her.
She found Styerra on the doorstep of the cottage, her chest torn open. Her body drenched in red.
‘Mother,’ Ezer breathed, and ran to her.
Styerra lifted a trembling hand, and for a second Ezer thought she saw her. But then a voice shouted, ‘No!’
And Ezer gasped as something rushed through her, like she was truly a ghost. Ervos fell at Styerra’s side, his hands hovering over her like he didn’t know what to do, how to fix her, how to make the bleeding stop.
‘Gods, oh gods,’ he breathed. ‘Stay with me Styerra. Please!’
‘Erv … Ervos,’ Styerra gasped.
Somewhere behind them, a person screamed. A howl broke the night, then a snarl that sounded like teeth ripping through flesh. The scream cut off.
‘I’m sorry,’ Ervos sobbed as he pulled Styerra into his arms. ‘Oh, gods, Styerra. I’m so sorry. I never should have left you here alone.’ Then his face went cold. ‘Ezer.’
‘Inside,’ Styerra gasped. ‘I … led them away.’
He tried to lift her, but she cried out in agony. Blood soaked the snow in rivers beneath her, and he slumped back down, sobbing.
Styerra’s hand touched his cheek. Her ring was soaked in blood. ‘Keep her safe, Stefon Ervos.’ It was the first time she had used his full name. You must … promise me.’
‘I promise,’ he said, as his tears fell. ‘I love you, Styerra. I have always loved you.’
She smiled. ‘I can … see his face,’ Styerra breathed. ‘My heart.’
‘Who?’ Ervos asked.
She struggled to find her final breath. And then she said the last word like a promise. ‘Erath.’
She died in his arms.
The wolves howled again. Somewhere behind him, another scream rang out.
But as Ervos looked down at Styerra … he no longer held a look of mourning. Nor did he look like a man in love. His face had changed at Styerra’s final word, at the mention of Erath’s name. He looked down at her now with hatred in his eyes.
‘You chose him over the gods,’ he whispered to her. ‘Over me. And it killed you in the end. Like I always knew it would.’
With bloody fingertips, he slid the Ring of Finding from Styerra’s cold finger. A final tear slid down his cheek as he looked at her.
‘That’s the last thing I can do, to protect you from him. You will not find him in death.’
He turned and stumbled into the cottage, where the door hung from its hinges. Awful claw marks marred the wood floors as if the shadow wolves had come inside to get to Styerra. To get to Ezer.
He paused on the threshold.
Because the cottage was utterly filled with black feathers. Some still tumbled down from the rafters, blowing in the breeze where the windows had been shattered.
‘Where are you?’ Ervos breathed. ‘Ezer!’
He scrambled to the bed, breathless as he threw back the covers. Feathers danced through the air like living shadows.
But no Ezer.
‘Please,’ he begged. ‘Gods, please.’
And then he saw the blood smears on the trunk at the foot of the bed. A handprint, like Styerra had held on to it when the shadow wolves attacked. Like they’d dragged her away from the place she’d made her final stand.
Ervos gasped and pried open the lid.
… And there she was.
Ezer, bundled in a blood-soaked blanket, with three horrible gashes across her tiny face. She was silent, unmoving. As if she were already gone.
‘No,’ Ervos breathed.
But then the baby Ezer opened her eyes at the sound of his voice. She let out a squeak, painful and broken and so, so weak.
But she was alive.
And clutched in her tiny little fists were more black feathers.
‘It’s okay,’ Ervos whispered, as he lifted her into his arms, tear tracks staining his face. ‘I’m here, Little Bird. I’m here.’
Ezer woke with tears on her own face, safe and sound inside Six’s cage.
She was warm from Six’s wing, draped over her side.
But the rest of her wasn’t quite right.
It was a weariness. A burden to know what Ervos had done. To know that her mother had died so terribly … to finally remember what had happened that night in the dark.
With her last act, Styerra had placed her baby, bleeding and broken, inside that trunk … and led the wolves away.
Ervos had found her there, just as he always said. That part of the story was true.
But the rest …
The cottage filled with black feathers. She knew it was from her birds. That they had come for her, just as they had two months ago in the woods.
But … how?
And why?
Everything before that night, and everything after.
Everything she thought Ervos was.
It was all a lie.
She allowed herself a moment to mourn for her mother and her father.