Page 83 of Ashen Wings

“Let’s just get this over with.” Jace bites his lip and the tomb comes alive.

The runes carved around us glow the same shade of blue as the dragonstone as the door swings open. My thighs tense, like I half expect the souls of the damned to pour from that voidless, dusty darkness.

“Once the eclipse starts, my command over the stone will dwindle. So make haste, humans,” Tenebris says from behind us.

He’s shifted into his human form, and my throat immediately closes. Bare as the day he hatched, the dragon approaches us with hands laced behind his back. I rip my gaze from his stony features, cheeks blazing as if I’m the one fully nude.

Isra rustles through his pack and tosses the dragon a rolled pair of trousers. “Do us all a favor, Bris, and put that monstrosity away.”

Tenebris catches the trousers and unravels them. “I will never understand you humans and your customs. Hiding behind humiliation and concealing your natural forms—so archaic.”

Don’t look. Don’t look. Not even a peek, Nova.

Too late.

My eyes blink toward his hips, and I damn near choke on my own saliva. A monstrosity is absolutely the correct term for what swings between his stark white legs. At least his anatomy in this form is consistently human, but gods above, no wonder he’s proud.

Tenebris slides on the trousers and cinches the waist before meeting Jace at the entrance. “Be careful in there, rider. It would be a great inconvenience if you died.”

“I love you too, Bris,” Jace says.

With a whisper to Astora that’ll most certainly go ignored, I follow the others as one by one we slip through the tomb entrance, leaving the rumbling storm outside to thrash and boom undisturbed.

38

The tomb's interior is so dark my eyes strain to discern anything solid. Water drops from somewhere above like an incessant reminder that the clock’s ticking. The eclipse will start soon, and I want to be miles from this place before our moon crosses into the umbra.

“My mother’s grave is down in the catacombs. Keep up, starling, you don’t want to be left in the dark here.” Jace glances over his shoulder, now a blur in the shadows ahead of me.

Our boots thud down the corridor as we pass narrow slits in the stone walls, offering glimpses into the tombs of various honorable officials and emissaries. A single torch burns beside yet another door etched with runes, its flame a warning beacon to any stupid enough to cross the threshold.

“A creepy door carved with cosmic runes…awesome.” Roe scowls, withdrawing her dagger.

Jace turns the knob and pulls the door open to reveal a set of steps descending into the mountain’s core. Unlit sconces ignite as if his presence alone calls them to life. Their flames bristle as we pass, down and down and down into the bilges of the stone-laden earth. Cobwebs and dust stripe the walls in dense, undisturbed blankets, and when we finally reach the lowest level I, too, am caked in ancient grime.

The air down here is damp, mossy, but somehow warmer than I expected, like the earth’s breath lingers in this place. As we walk through slim corridors and snaking tunnels, a wave of dread crashes through me. How many miles have we sunken underground? If one of these support beams were to collapse, we’d be crushed by hundreds of pounds of sediment. I’ve never felt all that connected to the sky, nor the cosmos, for that matter, but even if she were to answer my pleas, could Astora find me? This is Morvayne’s realm, dark and decrepit.

Maybe I’m praying to the wrong god.

We pass another round of doorways, each opening into a solitary cavern. A single candle illuminates every casket, draped in silken black burial cloth. “These are all riders?” I ask, inspecting an alcove as I pass.

“Some are. Others are Shadow nobility. House Ashborne carries our signet into death in hopes Morvayne might have mercy on us,” Jace replies. “All the spilled blood, the theft of innocence, it all rests here.”

He turns a sharp corner and disappears into a crypt. Not one but three candles light the space, elongating our shadows as we file in behind him. There, in the room's center is a casket still clean and new. The shroud covering its smooth lid, sparkles in the warm light, like its thread was loomed from stardust. Jace runs a careful hand over the fabric and withdraws the covering to reveal a crystal casket, carved from the purest of onyx.

“We can give you some privacy if you’d prefer, brother,” Isra suggests.

With a clenched jaw, Jace nods. My heartbeat thrums as I watch him, standing stiffly over his mother’s resting place. Only once had he mentioned his relationship with her, but now, the silence curtaining his features is one of utter grief.

Isra places a hand on my shoulder and guides us out. “He and his mother were very close. This probably isn’t easy for him.”

Roe leans opposite us, her eyes darting from shadow to shadow.

“This place makes me feel weird,” she murmurs.

She’s not the only one. My palms are damp with a nervous sweat. Being this close to death feels wrong. I’m no stranger to Morvayne, having been raised around violence my entire life, but to see such wealth…there are hundreds, maybe thousands of lowborn bodies scorched and piled up beyond the borders. Prisoners of war, slaves, and those dealt an unlucky hand, now fade into the earth. Their remains are nothing more than rotting heaps where one body isn’t discernible from another.

“You alright?” Isra asks, tossing me from the thoughts I’m failing to swallow.