Page 140 of Blade of the Nightking

“Mhm.” Her amusement dimmed. “They carved many things from the bodies they took once the flesh was no longer useful.”

A chill crept slowly along my spine. “They?”

Levinica looked surprised at my question. “Tharnyx wasn’t the only Bone-Wrought.” My blood turned to ice in my veins. “He was merely the last of his kind to survive the Wars. Like you. And Rìan.”

Levinica looked inexplicably sad.

She turned her attention back to the book. “It was the Tharuun who created the most impressive architecture.”

“The giants?”

“They never liked being called that,” Levinica wagged a finger. “I only met one in my life, and Ithryss made it very clear that she considered it insulting.”

My head spun a little at how casually she said that.

“The Tharuun built wonders,” she sighed, turning another page. “Great pyramids. Monuments of enormous stone fitted together so perfectly that not even the thinnest parchment could slide between the seams. If you ever travel to the Stonelands, perhaps you’ll see them for yourself.”

She smoothed her skirts absently, picking at a loose thread Titter Mouse had snagged earlier with one of his claws. “Even the Vaelorii created beautiful things.”

“The what?”

“The skin shifters.” Levinica turned the page again, revealing an enormous winged creature soaring above craggy black mountains. “The stories say they could wear whatever shape pleased them. Wolves. Birds. Sea creatures.” She hummed thoughtfully. “But they favored their dragon forms.”

My breath caught painfully.

Dragon.

Black scales. Blue flame. Smoke blackening the sky. The screaming…

Levinica didn't seem to notice my reaction.

“The skies used to be full of them,” she murmured wistfully, tracing one gloved finger along the painted curve of the dragon’s wing. “Can you imagine?”

“I don’t think I’d like to,” I admitted, my voice coming out embarrassingly thin.

She sighed softly and turned back several pages until the illustration of Tharnyx filled the spread once more.

“Magnificent,” she breathed.

I stared at her in disbelief. Magnificent? These were the monsters that had nearly destroyed the Fae.

“This book documents everything remarkably accurately.”

I frowned. “Wait… the stories are true?”

Her wide eyes lifted to mine. “Of course they are.”

“You told me they were children's tales!”

She smiled. “They are. Stories from our history, simplified so children can learn them.”

I stared down at the page. So every tale I'd spent the afternoon reading… all those monsters… were real.

A sudden meow at my feet nearly sent me leaping from my chair.

Titter Mouse had returned from the courtyard after what had apparently been another unsuccessful attempt to hunt the birds gathered around the stone fountain. He gave me a long, assessing stare—then, with obvious judgment, chose Levinica instead.

He sprang gracefully into her lap, arching his back in an obvious plea for attention.