Page 26 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

So I can carve Stellen’s name into a rock?

I pull the knife from his chest, slipping on the ground as I force myself to my feet, fighting the uneven ground and the vines that suddenly grip my boots as I push toward the gravestone.

I stumble and slip again, the vines curling around my ankles, and when I force myself back to my feet, I leave my boots behind in the dirt, caught between the greenery.

My bare feet sink, every step heavy, as if the ground is already preparing to accept Stellen’s body into his final resting place.

Behind me, Nara gives a soft, mournful growl. Like she’s trying to tell me I don’t have to do this now.

I know I don’t.

But what else am I supposed to do?

If I don’t move… If I don’t act…

I need to move.

With another scream, I hurl myself the final step at the stone, the knife colliding with its surface, shrieking against the rock without leaving a scratch.

I have no idea how I’m going to carve Stellen’s name into this hard stone. For now, my only goal is to tip it over.

He wants his loved ones to face the sky.

Filled with mindless anger, I lower my shoulder and push on the stone’s side, struggling to understand why it’s so hard to topple—unless the side that’s sunk deep into the soil, the side into which he wants his name carved, is wider than I thought it was. Maybe sunk deeper than it appears…

Slapping the knife to my other thigh, where my armor wraps safely around it, I snarl at the rock, refusing to accept defeat.

Dropping my shoulder, I heave again.

Once more, my braid is caught in my hands.

At the last moment, the gravestone budges, its nearest bottom edge rising the slightest distance above the ground.

A shock of power bites my body.

Whoomph.

Icy energy streaks through my arms to my chest, a thump so hard, I’m knocked back a step, ending up in a crouch.

What…was that?

Nara’s yelp registers in my hearing. She’s on her feet now, backing away from the gravestone, growling fiercely.

My focus snaps to my braid.

The ribbon in my hair shivers violently, and my armor is tightening around my body. While the ribbon in my hair pulls me forward, my armor presses me backward, away from the stone, trying to make me retreat like Nara is.

I dig in my heels, my focus drawn to the base of the rock, where the smallest sliver of yellow material now pokes out.

My breath catches.

I extend my right arm—my Dragonstone Blade arm—toward the gravestone’s base.

The tips of my fingers connect.

Another shock of energy passes through me, forcing me to retract my hand, but not before the sliver of material that’s caught at the base of the gravestone slides slightly farther out.

Another yellow ribbon.