Page 163 of The Washwoman at the River’s End

“About the bairn? Your granda told me. He was verra proud of you both. He’d want you to be safe.”

“Where do we go?” he asks, already standing to leave, and I’m glad he’s listening. I close my eyes, guilt flooding my body. I wish I could do more. I should have something else to offer them.

“Go to the Weaver or Measurer’s domain. Hide anywhere within their boundaries you can. The smaller the village, the better.” I say, giving him a stiff nod before returning to my spot.

I force myself to take a sip, the ale immediately going sour in my stomach. Every moment is torture, and I grip the counter, willing myself to remain calm. Anna returns only a few moments later, sliding the rope across the bar with a discreet swipe of her hand.

“Thank you," I say, taking a sip of my ale. I do not want to drink it. I dinnae want to waste a single second before returning to Bea, but what will happen if I run off? It will only give the guardians more reason to alert the Cutter, and I willnae give her more time to stop us.

I take another sip, then lean close. “This isnae going to make any sense, but if you sense anything amiss, you need to flee.” I say. As quietly and quickly as possible, I explain the Cutter’s actions, and how to protect herself and her children from them. I tell her that soon, anyone associated with me will likely be considered the enemy. Her eyes widen with fear, but she nods.

“Thank you. For everything” she whispers, schooling her features into a mask of neutrality.

“Be safe,” I say, taking a step towards the guardian’s table. If they are going to spy, I will force them to look me in the eye as they betray me.

“Gentlemen—” I pause at the sound of wings. The Dìdeanair stiffen, and Bradley hops to his feet.

“What is that?” he asks, eyes wide. “Dragons?”

“No,” I say, craning my head to listen closer. My dàn of hearing flares, the noise becoming clearer. The sound is different, not deep and thundering like that of a dragon’s wings, but smaller and higher-pitched.

The ground shakes violently, toppling chairs and mugs, and a shrill scream rings out beyond the tavern’s walls. Drawing my sword, I race outside. Overhead, dozens of creatures fly through the sky. Creatures born from storybooks and legends. Some nearly a quarter the size of dragons, with white hair covering their thin, cat-like bodies and skeletal wings. Some without wings at all, writhing through the air like serpents in a way that shouldn’t be possible. A grey, fleshy beast the size of an eagle swoops down, and I swing my sword, stabbing it through the chest.

It crumples to the ground, black blood squirting onto my face and clothes, and my stomach turns at its thick, sludgy appearance. The monster's eyes look as if they’ve been pecked from its skull, only stringy tendons remaining, with razor-sharp claws and a bloody, serrated beak, as if it has just been feasting on flesh.

Bea.

The air is stolen from my lungs at the thought of her, alone and afraid. I start to run, but there's another scream.

Anna’s. And then, a baby’s.

I curse, turning back as she runs around the side of the tavern, bairn in her arms and her face pale. Something stalks behind her. Not walking, but dragging itself on heavy limbs—dark, almost skeletal remains with wide white eyes and a hollow mouth split nearly to its ears, with skin hanging in strips as if it was carved into ribbons.

There is no blood on this monster, but that doesnae make it any less horrifying. It lets out a guttural roar, lunging at Anna with its wide, gaping maw.

My dàn for speed flares, and I leap forward, arcing my sword down. Its head falls to the ground with a hollow thud, its body following shortly after.

Anna screams, her entire body trembling as she collapses, but I catch her, grabbing her by the upper arms. “You need to find Billy and get to the cellars. Bring any weapons you can.”

The earth shudders once again, and the sky grows impossibly darker, turning completely obsidian in the span of just a few moments, blocking out all light. There is no moon. No stars. Not a single pinprick of anything to indicate that the entire world has not been plunged into the blackness of the After.

I hold my breath, turning in a slow circle, sword in front of me. I cannae see my own arm. My hands. Screams of pain and terror pierce the darkness, echoing around me, but I am helpless to stop it.

I shuffle to the side, trying to find a building to place at my back, I will not be eaten alive by a beast in the darkness, but I don’t make it more than a few steps before the sky tears open wide, a violent chasm ripping through the black, streams of red bursting outward until the entirety of it has turned the color of blood.

I still, heart pounding, blood racing.

The Epoch has begun.

74

BRENNEN

“Get everyone to the cellars!” I roar, ushering the women and children around me toward the closest shelter.

Philip runs past me, and I grab his arm. “Go door-to-door. Warn whoever is inside to get below ground.”

He nods. “What are you to do?” he asks, and there seems to be genuine worry in his creased eyebrows.