Page 13 of Embers of Ruin

My fury is still there, sharp and raw, but fear has wrapped itself around it now, cold and heavy. I draw several slow breaths. Gods, I need a strong drink.

If I’m honest with myself, deep down, I know Onyx isn’t lying. And I’m not sure which truth bothers me more: That Onyx serves the king. Or that, against all reason, he may actually be trying to save my life.

CHAPTER 4

We ride through endless fog for what feels like days. The trees gradually thin until only skeletal branches remain, reaching toward the gray sky like hands begging to be saved. Soon even those disappear, leaving nothing but open land stretching in every direction.

Ragged huts dot the landscape, their blackened frames standing like graves where homes once stood. A pang of sadness settles in my chest as I take in the devastation surrounding us. Part of me wants to climb down from my horse, press my palms to the earth, and try to force life back into it. But even I doubt my gift could restore something this broken.

Onyx speaks little during the journey and when he does, most of our conversations consist of him telling me to conserve my energy and me displaying my obvious annoyance at his existence. My body aches from days of travel, my patience is wearing thin, and my anger still simmers beneath the surface. Yet the farther we travel, the harder it becomes to hold onto that anger.

Every village we pass looks the same—silent and abandoned. Once, people lived here. Families. Children. People who celebrated births, mourned deaths, and built lives. They likely never imagined their homes would one day become empty ruins swallowed by rot and time.

Solaris has certainly earned its title, The Cursed Continent. The thought lingers as we continue down the worn road. Exhaustion weighs heavily on me. I would give almost anything for a proper bed, a warm bath, and a meal that wasn't half-cleaned wild game cooked over a fire. Unfortunately, my current situation does not allow for such luxuries.

The silence surrounding us is somehow worse than the freezing wind clawing at my face. I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders and stare toward the dark horizon. How much longer can Solaris survive like this? Nothing should be able to endure centuries without sunlight. From what I know, it has been hundreds of years since anyone has seen the sun. I’m beginning to wonder if it ever truly existed at all.

We need the sun to grow crops. We need it for warmth. For life. Ancient scrolls I've read describe, in painstaking detail, the benefits of sunlight and the way it nourished the world. Looking around now, I know we're in decline. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow. But eventually? I can't imagine that we will survive our current conditions.

“Did your king do this?” I ask coldly, turning toward Onyx.

I gesture to the ruins surrounding us. “All of it. Did he destroy these villages in his hunt for people with magic?”

I already know the answer. I just want to hear the king's right hand admit it.

Onyx doesn't look at me. He simply rides ahead with the ease of a man born to the saddle, shoulders squared against the cold. When he finally answers, his voice is flat.

“No. Our king did not do this. But the curse, among other things, is partly responsible.”

“So, in other words, he did.” Bitterness bleeds into my words before I can stop it. “The curse belongs to the king, doesn't it? The darkness spreading across Solaris began with his bloodline.”

Onyx's jaw tightens. “That's a matter of perspective.”

I scoff. “From my perspective, he is the rot that is ruining our kingdom.”

My gaze drifts back to the ruins. “People call him the Shadow King for a reason.”

Onyx gives no reply. He keeps his gaze fixed ahead as a muscle in his jaw ticks. The movement is subtle, but I catch it. Anger. It’s gone almost as quickly as it appears.

The horses carry us onward, their hooves striking the frozen ground in a steady rhythm. I watch the back of Onyx's head, searching for some sign that he feels remorse. That he regrets bringing me here. But he remains stubbornly silent, much to my annoyance.

Is it odd that I want him to talk to me? To argue with me? To engage in our usual back-and-forth banter? Apparently, spending two days with an insufferable ass is enough to make a person miss being irritated by him. Well, that’s unfortunate. I’m still angry enough to provoke him purely for my own entertainment.

The first thing that catches my attention is the smoke. At first, I prepare myself for disappointment. The last few days have taught me not to expect much from Solaris beyond darkness and misery. Then I notice something different. I see smoke twisting upward in slow, lazy spirals, and my heart leaps. Smoke means people and people mean… food.

I sniff, catching a tantalizing scent on the wind. It smells of supper cooking over an open fire and I have to force myself to stay put. I sit a little straighter in the saddle, suddenly eager to find its source.

A sharp metallic sound catches my ear moments later.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The steady ring of a hammer striking metal carries across the open landscape. Onyx notices it immediately and glances back, tapping a finger against his ear. I nod, passing the silent message that I hear it too.

For days, the continent has felt abandoned by the gods themselves. We haven’t seen many people, and I had assumed most were hiding in their homes, too frightened to venture outside while the king’s guard prowled the roads. The only sounds have been the wind, our horses, and the occasional cry of some unseen creature lurking beyond the road.

Now I hear a blacksmith. Or at least someone who knows how to wield a hammer. And now I want to find the people. I want to know how they live. Whether their village is anything like mine. Whether they struggle as we do. Or perhaps more importantly—whether they don’t.

I let my mind wander, thinking of how terrified everyone in my village is of the Shadow King. Do they fear him here as well? Has he taken people from their homes here? How many more people are dragged from their homes, accused of possessing magic, and tortured until they confess to something they may not have even done? The thought leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.