Page 1 of Heart of Night and Fire

ONE

Zarya always hunted the demons at twilight. They were at their weakest when the sun was sinking over the horizon, in that nebulous shift between night and day. For years, they had been spreading their taint along the southern coast of Rahajhan, ravaging everything in their path.

The naga spent their days cowering in the murky depths of the swamps where she now found herself crouched. She knew how to draw them out as the last of the sun’s power faded away.

Starlight. For reasons she’d never understood, her magic called the naga from their lairs, dragging them to the surface.

Zarya lifted a hand towards the scattering of pale stars and pulled down glowing tendrils of light, twisting them between her fingers where they twirled like smoke caught in a breeze.

From her position low on the ground, she unfurled the ball of tangled ribbons across the swamp’s oily surface. They sparkled in the waning light. A river of brilliance against the gloom. In her free hand, she gripped the hilt of her long, curved talwar and waited.

It never took long. The naga were greedy, monstrous things.

The surface of the water lay as still as glass. Except for a soft breeze rustling the blackened trees, the swamp was silent. The birds, the insects, and the animals that once called this forest home had all fled this oppressive bleakness long ago.

Zarya’s stomach churned with anticipation as she remained focused on the water. Even the slightest error could mean her undoing. She shuddered at the idea of being towed to the bottom of the swamp, choking out her last stuttered breaths where no one could save her.

A moment later, a gurgle bubbled up from the surface, morphing into a squeal that tore through the silence. In a cascade of mud, an eyeless head burst from the pool. Translucent white skin stretched over the skull of a serpent-like monster, its jaws spreading wide. Rows of needle-sharp teeth snapped before it lunged, but Zarya was ready.

Swinging her talwar in a smooth arc, she sliced cleanly through the naga’s neck in a practiced maneuver. Its head landed with a meaty squelch at her feet while its thick body slithered back into the sludge. She let out a deep breath as a tingling rush of adrenaline cooled in her blood.

After pulling out the khanjar tucked in her boot, she set to work, draining the naga’s venom into a small glass jar. The inky liquid dripped in slowly as she twisted the knife deeper into its already greying gums.

“Zarya! What are you doing?” came a familiar voice through the trees. She frowned, her shoulders hunching at the interruption as Aarav’s tall, slender form emerged through the dark leaves. Ignoring him, she finished with her work, stashed her khanjar back in her boot, and pocketed the vial of venom.

“Nothing.”

She snatched up her talwar and stalked towards him, knocking him with her shoulder as she passed.

“What is the point of this exercise, hmm?” he asked as he trailed behind her like a buzzing mosquito she’d like to squish with a firm, well-placed slap. “There’s no one left to buy that stuff.”

He was right, but that wasn’t the point at all.

She used to sell the venom in the nearby fishing village of Lahar—the locals said it was useful in their traps to keep certain predators away. But now the village, too, had been consumed by the swamp, forcing everyone to flee north, where the blight had yet to take hold.

Hunting the naga gave her something to do, though. Something to tame the restlessness that scraped her bones like a scourge. Peddling venom in Lahar had been the only time she’d ever been allowed a reprieve from her prison. But it hadn’t been enough. It would never have been enough.

Zarya passed the line of rune-marked trees that held the swamp at bay and protected her home. The crush of dark branches and blackened leaves gave way to the lush and abundant flora that had defined all the forest only a few years ago.

She emerged to find Row waiting for her with his thick arms crossed. Clad in a black kurta that hugged his broad frame, his dark hair hung to the middle of his back, braids woven throughout.

Row wasn’t Zarya’s father, but he was the only guardian she’d ever known.

No, he definitely wasn’t a parent. He was her fucking warden.

He’d kept her here nearly every day of her life, his magic preventing her escape. Even after everyone else had evacuated this ruined coastline, their wretched little trio remained here for some inexplicable reason he refused to share.

She felt like a spitting cobra caged inside a basket, longing to escape.

“Where have you been?” he asked, glowering as she approached.

“I caught her hunting naga,” Aarav said, coming up behind her like a perpetual pain in her ass.

Zarya looked over her shoulder, throwing him a dirty look. “Gods, Aarav, do you ever get tired of being an utter dipshit?”

She turned back to Row. “Yes, I was hunting. Are you also going to scold me like a child?”

At nearly a head taller than Zarya, Row loomed over her like a disapproving mountain. Only a mountain would probably be more sympathetic. “You know it’s dangerous.”