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Chapter Thirteen
Ash
The black fog surrounded me completely, smelling like sulphur and making me want to cough. My eyes watered. I waved my hand in front of my face, stumbling blindly through it, until I emerged into a small, bright clearing.
The trees ringing the grove had grown strangely. They had slender, narrow trunks that curved away from the clearing at a sharp angle about two feet off the ground. Like question marks, or little shelves you could step up onto.
They were white, with dark grey leaves. And the grass was greenish-white with tiny, silvery-white flowers poking out every now and then between the blades.
The only thing in the clearing was a little wooden hut. Even though the wood was dark and rotting, it was still largely intact. I eyed it, then took a hesitant step closer.
A deep, raspy voice rang out instantly, making me jump.
“Acherone al Brid.” The voice echoed across the clearing, but I knew it was coming from that little hut. “The halfling. The Hunter. The thrice-lived king.”
“Um…” I pursed my lips and took a hesitant step closer. “Ash. I’m Ash. H-hi. Are you Ogma?”
“I’m the Keeper of Names, yes. The one you seek. Come closer, Oak King.”
I snuffled a laugh at that as I walked towards the hut. “Oak king. That stupid unseelie tradition.”
“Not just a tradition, Hunter King. And not just unseelie. Closer.”
I felt a brief flash of unease as I noticed the tiny opening at the side of the hut, but then I found myself smiling as I stepped closer and leaned down a little to peer inside.
I jumped violently when a gigantic eye blinked back at me. It looked like the eerie, mournful eye of a blue whale—almost human, but not quite. It was enormous, filling the entire opening. It darted about frantically, taking me in from head to toe. Surely a creature with an eye that large wouldn’t fit in that tiny hut?
“There you are,” Ogma rasped. “Deep in your second life. I’ve been waiting to meet you, Acherone. It is a pleasure.”
“I—um… same.” I gave that giant eye a hesitant smile.
“The arm of branches. The favour at your throat. Your first oath already etched into your skin. You are one of us now fully, aren’t you?”
Favour? Oath? What? I didn’t know what she was talking about.
“But I digress. You’re here for your second name. Give me your offering so I can write it down.”
I stared at her giant eye. “Offering?”
“Your ink.”
Shit.Why didn’t Gillie and Nua tell me I needed to bring ink?
“I didn’t bring ink,” I stammered. “I didn’t know—”
“Not that kind of ink.” A huge, spindly hand appeared at the opening, holding out a glass inkwell. “Your blood, dear boy. Just a few drops.”
“Oh.” I stared at the inkwell, then hesitantly pulled the dagger from its sheath at my hip. “O-okay.”
Swallowing, I pricked my finger with the tip of the blade and held it over the pot, squeezing so the blood dripped in.
“That’s enough,” Ogma said, pulling the inkwell back inside. “Now whisper it to me and I will record it in my book.”
I fumbled to put away my dagger before sucking the drop of blood from my finger. “Oh. Shit. I haven’t actually picked it yet.”
I gave a nervous little laugh, twisting my fingers together as I glanced around the grove for inspiration.
But Ogma said, “You have. It’s there. Just lean in and whisper it.”
