Silence rose up again, and when Avalon realized why, she wanted to kick herself.
Ten years?Sable whispered.Is that really how long I’ve been in here?
I think so. Ten years ago, the Dark Army laid waste to the North and took the House of Ice. As far as rumor goes, you were living there in secret with Balthazar and Rhea when the House was taken. You went missing.Avalon paused.I pieced the rest together myself.
Sable was speechless.
As Avalon walked, she fiddled with her bracelet, praying again for strength. She was no longer sure who she prayed to, for many of the gods in Elderyn were long forgotten, but it reassured her to think that someone was listening. That she wasn’t as alone as she felt.
Far off in the distance, through the countless trees that stretched west for miles, she saw a curtain of snow where this realm abruptly ended, and the Realm of Ice began.
Another storm.
I’ve dreamed of you for ten years, Sable,Avalon said.Of your memories. I think that maybe I started seeing your life in my mind shortly after you were locked inside the mask… That maybe we became connected in some inexplicable way.When Sable remained silent, Avalon added,Perhaps I was meant to find you.
After a long moment the warrior said,Perhaps.And then she grew silent again as Avalon strode into the trees.
15
Nocturne sensed the Crows before she saw them.
The wind had quieted into a breeze, the sudden absence of noise revealing the sound of their claws scratching against the frosted branches of the towering evergreens. The blizzard had softened into scattered flurries, allowing her to make out the shapes of the skeletal trees and spiny shrubs surrounding her, but her eyes stung from the cold, and she still couldn’t spot those Crows, no matter how hard she tried.
But she knew they were there—there was no doubt about it. A hush descended over the woods—a warning of predators watching—and what few animals lived this far north, in burrows or tree trunks, fled to the safety of their nests as quickly as possible. Even the birds feared their humanoid kin, for the Crows delighted in anything soft and full of blood.
Nocturne’s heart was pounding. She’d been stumbling around out here for the gods-knew-how-long, and every inch of her was numb from the freezing wind. While she thought she was staggering toward the House of Ice, she had been going the opposite direction, toward the Bluehorn Mountains—toward the border that marked the entrance to her homeland, the Realm of Wind. Toward the Crows’ nests, deep in the caves at the base of the cliffs. If only she’d stayed put instead of stumbling through the woods, calling for help like a bleating sheep.
How could she have been so stupid?
The mountains towered above her, blending seamlessly with the starry sky, the jagged peaks veiled in mist. Any farther and she would’ve tumbled right into the mouth of a cave. The Crows had likely heard her hobbling around out here, blind as a bat, arms stretched out in front of her to stop herself from smashing her face into tree trunks. They had likely watched her for the better part of an hour, laughing in whispers she had mistaken for the wind, growing hungrier by the second.
Idiot. She was such an idiot.
Yellow eyes glowed from the tops of swaying trees. Blinking slowly. Watching her. They were in their avian skins—large black crows most mortals would mistake for the common bird.
There was too much intelligence in the eyes of these creatures. Far too much for the common bird.
Raucous laughter slipped through the white trees as the eleven Crows spread their wings and swooped down to the fresh blanket of snow.
Nocturne tried to run, scurrying backward as she retreated.
Before she could move more than two feet, she smacked into something firm. Breath tickled her neck, and opaque puffs of rancid air swirled before her. The earth shuddered beneath her feet, and Nocturne bit back the whimper that rose in her throat as she slowly turned…
The stars and the waxy moon lit up the woods as the Crows grew larger and taller, shifting into their humanoid skins.
~
As soon as Kit caught sight of Nocturne, his vision turned from yellow—the color that came with hunting and focus—to red. The red of fury. Of carnage.
He spotted the Crows from a mile away, but he’d heard them long before that. Once the wind had died down, his keen hearing had picked up on the scraping of their claws on branches, and the hissed words that slipped through their beaks had slithered across the snow, like the undulating mist swirling around his large paws.
And their laughter—these wretched creatures loved to laugh, the hollow sound like the cackle of a witch.
Vision red, paws entirely silent in the fresh snow, he stalked forward, weaving around the trees. When the Crows had shifted from their avian skins into their humanoid forms, Nocturne had backed right into the leader. This clan was all female, the leader ancient and withered, with hair like a spider’s webs. She’d breathed down Nocturne’s neck and had released a cackle that raised each hair on Kit’s body before she’d lunged for her.
Now they were playing with her, tossing her into the air like a doll and catching her a hair’s breadth before her neck would snap on the ground. Despite that she was the omega—the runt—in her pack, Kit was impressed by her moves. Never mind that she was outnumbered eleven to one; she somehow managed to tear out entire fistfuls of feathers every time the Crows flung her, tossing her from clan member to clan member. Some grabbed her by her ankles, others by her hair. Regardless of where they grabbed, the general flinched every time.
Few at the House of Ice had seen Kit in his secondary skin, as he chose to use it as little as possible. How Nocturne might react to this form—whether she would accept him in silent awe or run away screaming—was out of his control. He supposed it shouldn’t matter, for she already hated him. Several weeks ago, he’d turned the other cheek while the Wolf Pack had marched into her village, burning every home to the ground and butchering Nocturne’s family. Even if he saved her tonight, it wouldn’t be enough to earn her forgiveness.
