Burning.
His face burned—burned like it was on fire.
No. Not his face. The floor. The air. The house.
The cottage was on fire.
Cedric peeked through his fingers, his palms still pressed to his mouth, trying to stem the bleeding, cushion the wound.
The cottagewason fire.
And so were the men.
They were screaming. Screaming and thrashing and writhing, clawing at flames that ate through their flesh with relentless hunger. It burned away their clothing, melted the medallions on their chests.
Movement caught Cedric’s eye.
Through the flames, he saw her. Standing near the threshold, silhouetted by the roaring inferno, the locket hanging from her neck gleaming in the firelight. He caught a glimpse of her face as she turned—fury and determination at war in her brilliant eyes. And something else, too.Something like...resignation?
Her dagger was still in her hand, the blade reflecting the flames like it was made of molten gold. She pointed it at the man, the leader of the trio. The one who’d given him his scar. The one who, though doubled over in pain, wasn’t on fire anymore.
That wasn’t what caught Cedric’s attention.
It was the shadow coiling around his mother’s feet. The tendrils of black smoke that wound up her legs, curled around her waist like the darkest embrace. The air rippled with power—achingly familiar, a ghost from some half-remembered dream.
Beyond the open doorway, a figure loomed—cloaked, clouded, covered in shadows. A fourth member of this group who’d managed to shatter Cedric’s entire existence in a single night.
Unbidden, the words fell from Cedric’s own young lips: “The Revenant.”
He’d had it wrong all this time. He hadn’theardthe name that night. He’dsaidit.
Cedric saw the shape of evil approaching his mother as she stood tall, ignorant of the threat at her back even as she readied herself to fight the one to her front. He saw the darkness and his child’s mind told him it was the Revenant, the boogeyman, the shadow-born legend from the cautionary tales he’d been told.
And now, Cedric could do nothing but watch as those shadows crept up his mother’s body, circling closer and closer to her heart.
She hurled the dagger at the man in front of her. He screamed in pain as it lodged in his thigh. Her gaze met Cedric’s again. She said something he couldn’t hear, couldn’t make out. Then she mouthed three little words.
Those, he did understand.
She smiled that knowing smile, meant only for him.
Behind her, the figure clenched a fist, and the shadows tore his mother apart.
“No!” Cedric—past and present, child and adult—cried out. And then darkness surged, and finally, finally, he felt nothing more.
23
INTO DARKNESS
ELYRIA
Elyria didn’t knowhow long she fought. Didn’t know how many lives she took.
The world was a haze of chaos, flickering flames, and the metallic tang of blood. Shadows swirled around her—intoxicating, maddening. Her thoughts were muddled, fragmented as they blurred together—the faces of the cultists she continued cutting through on the battlefield, the cries of the dying, the pulse of twisted power thrumming in her veins.
She swung the shadow-forged blade in a wide arc, cleaving through another enemy. They evaporated into mist. Confusion stole Elyria’s breath as the slain bodies and battling soldiers surrounding her dissipated—dust on the wind.
And then Elyria was alone.
