Chapter 16
“Look.” His finger traces a fork in the path. One branch drops away, down and down toward the sea, while the other winds onward along the ridge’s summit. Neither appeals to me, but at least the higher path keeps us above the poisonous spray.
“She screamed at us and flew off,” I say, frowning. “That doesn’t say, ‘follow me’ in my mind.”
He holds out a hand, the ice in his eyes sparking with something fierce. “Just trust me. Can you do that?”
“No, I don’t think I can.” I arch a brow. “Can you trust me?”
He chuckles. “Point taken.”
Taliesin says nothing more to convince me. He simply stands there, his hand still outstretched, his piercing gaze steady on my face. And despite every objection rising to my tongue, I slide my fingers into his and allow him to lead me across the nest, twigs crunching underfoot.
Other than the chains, he’s done nothing against me. I know I can’t trust him—not fully—but I don’t think he means me harm. If anything, he’s done his damndest to keep me alive. More than once.
Still, I must keep my guard up. I haven’t survived so long in a world of endless warfare by being foolish.
The descent takes longer than I expect. Every twenty or thirty steps, I pause and lean against the safety of the rock face to scan the path ahead.
The crevice never looks any closer. Soon, sweat dampens the back of my neck beneath my curtain of dark hair, and I twist it into a braid crown to get it off my skin.
Taliesin watches me keenly as I weave the strands together, like I’m an exotic creature from another world.
At long last, we reach the crevice, which turns out to be the opening to a cave rather than the thin slice it appeared to be from afar.
Darkness pools within, shielded from the glow of the setting sun by the ridge-line.
I try not to think about what it means, that night has arrived before we could get off this ridge.
At least we’ve found shelter…but my heart still pounds out a warning. We don’t know what lies within.
Taliesin steps in front of me and moves into the cave.
With a deep breath, I follow, casting an uncertain glance over my shoulder at the mainland.
The green fields glow beneath the sinking sun, but shadows stretch long and dark, like those fingers of death I felt reaching for me.
And still, it reaches. No matter where I will go, it will follow.
I shudder and turn away. Even if death is watching, it can’t reach me. It never has before, no matter how many times I’ve interfered with its taking of souls.
The firebird waits inside. The moment I step in, sparks fly from her open mouth.
They catch at once, and flames engulf a pile of twigs on the ground.
Firelight spills across the looming walls, revealing lines carved into the stone and painted over in white.
I stare, my pulse jumping. Those are spell words. My words.
I point at ‘Marwolaeth’ but don’t speak it aloud, if only not to tempt fate.
I have to wrap my hand around someone’s throat for the magic to work, but…
something about this place feels wrong. A skittering unease crawls down my spine.
If the magic were ever to behave differently anywhere, it would be here.
“That’s the word,” he says, arching his brow in question, like he’s asking for confirmation he already has.
“That’s the word.” My eyes keep scanning the walls. “It’s written well over a hundred times.”
“Creepy. Perhaps the bird wants you to kill me.” He says it lightly, but I can still hear the tension under it. Strange, how well I can hear the subtle shifts in his tones, something a stranger wouldn’t notice.
For a moment, that catches me off guard, and I study his profile. Do I know him? Why can’t I remember? Nothing else from the past ten years is lost to my mind. So why him? How could I have forgotten him?
A face like that isn’t one easily forgotten. A scatter of freckles marks his jawline, and they somehow only accentuate the strong lines. No, not a scatter. I look closer. There are six, forming a pattern like a constellation from before the stars died.
He might have the most perfect face I’ve ever seen.
The thought flashes through my mind before I can stop it. I stiffen and look away, hoping he didn’t notice. I can’t think of him like that. But, as if guided by a will not my own, my eyes shift his way again. He’s looking at me.
My heart jumps, then skips, then hammers at my ribs. He cocks his head, brow furrowing.
“Didn’t you hear my question?”
I clear my throat. “Sorry, no. I was…counting. What was the question?”
His brow wings upward. “I was saying it’s odd this spell appears so many times when so few can wield it. You know no other necromancers, I assume.”
“Don’t call me that,” I say, my hands clenching involuntarily.
“You don’t like Swynwraig. You don’t like necromancer. So, what do you like being called?”
“There is my actual name,” I say, narrowing my eyes, “but I reserve that for people who don’t chain me up and drag me across mountain ridges.”
A muscle tenses in his jaw. “And the alternative was better?”
“The alternative of not chaining me?”
“Well, you’re not chained now, are you?”
“I wouldn’t put it past you to try again.”
A slow, wicked smile curls his lips. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Fuck you,” I snap.
He leans closer, his voice dropping into a rough growl. “Fuck you right back, necromancer.”
The sound sends an unexpected shiver down my spine, but I keep my expression flat. He’s only doing this to get a rise out of me. I refuse to give him one.
I turn away, forcing my attention on the firebird. “Instead of threatening me, maybe you should focus on this cave dragged me into. Not that there’s much here beyond a mess of spellwork.”
He actually listens, his gaze sweeping over the cavern.
It forms a near-perfect circle around the firebird, who still waits beside the flaming pile of twigs, her eyes fixed on our faces.
There’s no tunnel leading deeper into the mountain.
Only smooth gray walls scrawled with spells.
There’s nothing else. Nothing but that word, written so many times it feels like the walls are shouting it at us.
I cut my gaze toward Taliesin. Is the firebird telling me to kill him?
He frowns. “You’ve got that look in your eye again.”
“What look?”
“The one you get when you’re deciding whether it’s time to wrap your hands around my throat and say Marwolaeth.”
I tense. “Don’t speak it. Not in this place.”
The firebird shifts suddenly, moving aside to reveal a rectangular fissure carved into the stone floor.
The same word is etched across its surface, though this time, it’s in blood.
Taliesin is on it at once. He crouches, slips his fingers into the narrow gaps, and strains, like he can pull the floor apart with his bare hands.
I back up a step, unease curling low in my stomach, my attention caught between him and the firebird. “I don’t think we should be touching this.”
He loosens his grip, dragging the back of his arm across his brow. “I know what this is. I’ve been looking for it for a very long time.”
“Looking for what?”
“I heard there was something hidden on this ridge. I’ve spent years looking for it, but I never came across this cave until today.” A strange look crosses his face. “As I said before, what are the odds?”
I shudder. There’s something in his tone that unsettles me, but it isn’t only that. It’s the weight of the air itself, and the way magic presses in, pulsing against my skin.
That’s what it is. I realize it with a slow certainty. It’s not some kind of sense of death lingering from before. It’s magic. My kind of magic. I didn’t recognize it at first because I’ve never felt it anywhere else, or on anything or anyone but me.
But this place…this place is saturated with it.
“What is this something that’s hidden?” I dare to ask, though I already fear the answer.
He levels his gaze on me. “It’s something connected to Culling Day and whatever it was that destroyed our sky and our gods. I believe it holds the key to restoring everything.”
I press my lips together, then shake my head. “That’s impossible.”
“Why?” he asks, his tone edged with challenge.
“Because someone would know if something like that existed. Someone would have already come looking for it, and they would have used it.” I lift a hand before he can interrupt. “I know what you’re going to say. Not if they were from the Order, because the Order doesn’t want the sky restored. And—”
“No,” he cuts in. “What I was going to say is that until a few months ago, this ridge was fully warded. They couldn’t have reached this cave even if they wanted to. And I doubt they would have exiled me somewhere this important if they knew.”
My eyes drop to the hidden compartment in the floor. “You have a point…”
“You don’t sound thrilled.”
“There’s just something about this place.” I hesitate, searching for words to explain it. “It almost feels like the walls have eyes, like the cave itself is alive and watching us, even though it has death written across its face.” A dry laugh slips out. “That probably makes me sound mad.”
“If you’re mad, then I am, too. I feel those eyes on me as well.” He nods toward the cave opening. “Bryn won’t even come inside.”
Only now do I notice the absence of the pine marten. She paces on the path beyond, her tail tapping the ground in agitation.
“I don’t much blame her,” I murmur.
“Well,” he says, turning back to the fissure, “the sooner you help me get this open, the sooner we can leave.”
I swivel back toward him. He looks up at me expectantly, and try as I might, I can’t bring myself to move toward the exit. Because ever since I saw him sitting alone in the back of that taproom, there’s been something just at the edge of my mind. A restless sensation I can’t shake.
You have seen this face before.
I cross the floor and sink to my knees beside him. We both take hold of the carved stone and pull. The lid comes away in a plume of dust. I cough, my eyes burning, the sound nearly drowning out a string of muttered curses.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, waving the dust aside.
Taliesin scowl gives me all the answer I need. “It’s not here. Someone beat us to it.”