Page 94 of The Ashborn

The waves of the Lysiria crashed against the rocks in unison, as if the sea agreed.

“I’ll fight to protect you.” Kienna’s eyes scanned the beach again, meeting every soldier’s stare. “Every single one of you. You have my word.”

—Tristian—

“Tristian,” Moira whispered when Kienna stepped down from the rocks. She placed her hand on the High Commander’s arm. He glanced at Moira’s touch and then back at her. “May I speak with you privately?”

His chest tightened. “Is Tislin alright?”

“Oh, yes. It’s… Not here. Please?”

Tristian nodded and led Moira up the clearing toward the tree line. It took them fifteen minutes to walk near the forest, but Moira’s worry seemed to kickstart Tristian’s own urgency. He could feel Connak trailing them. If he was following, this had to be about Kienna. He scoffed quietly. When was this going to end?

At the trees, the cicadas buzzed frantically. They could tell what was coming. Even the air of the forest was denser, the sweet smell of pine and honey darkening. The trees always knew. They whispered, the runes flaring uncontrollably. Tristian held the tension in his chest. He pushed his fist into the center, swirling it around in circles to release the building pressure, but it was no use. It never was.

“I had a vision,” Moira said as they stopped.

Tristian furrowed his brow. He peered at Connak. How did they expect him to lead them through this if they wouldn’t tell him the simplest things? “You have visions?”

Moira fumbled with her hands. “My baby does, I think. And I see them. A lot of them don’t make any sense to me, but this one did.”

“Let’s hear it,” Tristian said. He crossed his arms in front of his body and waited.

Moira turned to Connak, her eyes sinking. “I saw Baila. She had a sword that swirled with what looked like Tislin’s shadows. I watched her. She slit Kienna’s throat with it.”

Tristian waited for Connak’s reaction. His Hollow Blades Commander remained stone-faced, a rarity for him. He knew about the shadow blades. Last he’d been told, they were destroyed in Alverton with the debacle that Tislin and Kienna found themselves in.

He scratched his nose and turned his eyes to the heavens. “I need to know every vision you’ve ever had to understand how accurate this one may be.”

Moira spent the next thirty minutes walking him through her visions. Her first made Connak shift, hearing about himself bearing the weight of the desert to protect Kienna. What that meant, neither of them knew. Her next vision included a burning tree. The Ashborn tree. Then the woodcarver’s face paving the path to someone’s downfall. Tristian didn’t think that related to Kienna, so he dismissed it. She mentioned a vision of Broan finding the Ashborn. Tristian clung to that one. It was important, but he wasn’t sure how.

“There was one with you.” Moira’s voice came out quieter than usual, distant. Her eyes bounced up to Tristian’s, then back down a few times as if she was testing his reaction. “That was my strangest vision. Baila was calling out that we wouldn’t trust her enough to save them. Then you and Kienna stood in a burning forest. You were⁠—”

Tristian stopped her. “No more.” He said it kindly but with firmness that indicated he wouldn’t allow her to continue. He didn’t want to hear about his future. Even if her visions were simple prophecies—only hints of the future—knowing his took away from the choices he still had in life. He worked his jaw, craning his neck again to loosen the tension. “Connak.” His head rolled back with a sigh. “Call Tislin.”

Connak stepped to the trees and dragged his blade in a slow arc across the bark, carving a crescent that split with a harsh vertical slash. Three shallow dots marked the edge like black eyes, and the wood bled ash into his hands. He whispered into the world, “Nyssar.”

The air shifted. Shadows thickened like ink, and the forest fell silent. Tislin formed in front of them. The darkest bits of him appeared first, his black leathers taking shape over his form. Then his pale skin appeared, followed by his ash-blond hair and deep gray eyes, speckled with orange. Relief clung to Tristian to see his brother’s eyes still harboring life. Guilt quickly took over. As soon as Tislin fully formed, Tristian ripped his sword from its scabbard and sliced at the rune. Dark magic didn’t belong near the Eternal Mother’s forest.

“If you do not like it, do not summon me,” Tislin said, an airy whisper to his breath as the shadows settled beneath his feet.

“I assume you also know about Moira’s visions,” Tristian said, cutting straight to the chase. “What’s your take on her seeing the River Storm girl with a shadow blade?”

Tislin’s gaze locked on Moira, his brows drawn tight and all trace of his usual warmth gone.

Moira’s eyes dropped, and Tislin said, “If the king has his own Shades at his disposal, I’d expect he’d have more than one blade.”

“She also saw Baila killing Kienna,” Connak said.

Tislin placed his hands behind his back casually as he paced. “You know the prophecies.”

Tristian’s eyes slid skyward, a huff escaping his lips. When would they forget these prophecies and live? Even if they were true, a path couldn’t be entirely predestined. Every single one of them could still die at any moment, and the predictions would mean nothing.

“How powerful is Baila?” he asked.

“The king feeds her power. So, as powerful as he wants her to be,” Connak explained.

Tristian turned to Moira. She stepped back, searching her hands for answers. “He was particularly private about his magic, but he fed five of us with his own energy and never tired.”