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The people of Raven Row knew how to lift bottles of ale, not blades. They’d be slaughtered. But there was little choice left. I would stand here, I’d fight for vengeance. For the pain of the North, the corruption of the East, for the secrets of the South. I’d fight for Stefan and the life he lost.
The wind worsened. I screamed, but sound was robbed away. The abuse lessened with each step I took away from the sea, as though the storm was beating me deeper into Raven Row. I needed to stop this. I needed to flee whatever power was taking hold here.
Sing. A low, rumbling whisper filled my head.
Sing? On the shore of the fae isles when Davorin was reaching his grimy fingers for my throat, I’d nearly burst to bloody pieces when my seidr erupted, not in mere words, but in a melody with a tune, a voice, behind my power that no one seemed to hear but me.
It was happening again. The same power built as though a flame were trapped, yearning to burst skyward.
I let the tune shape in my head, in my heart, until the song roved over me like warm honey. Two simple words I somehow knew would flow beautifully with the sad melody.Be still.
I flung my arms out to the sides and the heat from my blood scattered across the shoreline. A phantom tune echoed after it, like a voice carried on the boom of thunder. A blast of power whipped my pale hair around my face until I thought I might have lash marks over my cheeks.
When it eased, I glanced at the water. Peaceful, calm seas were all that greeted me. No army. No ghostly shadows of Davorin, but the Row was quiet. Eerily so.
My mouth parted at the sight. The people who’d been racing for their shacks at the sight of the black flame not moments before, were . . . still. As though they were sleeping on their feet, not frozen in place, merely unmoving.
“Cuyler?” I scrambled back to my feet and inspected my friend. His eyes were closed. His blades had fallen from his grip, and like the others, he was still.
What was happening?
Wind gathered again. It beat against me without mercy. I cried out when sand and water stung my eyes, and gust after relentless gust forced me back from the water’s edge.
“Cuyler!” I cried his name.
He was unmoving, as though asleep on his feet, the same as everyone. What had I done?
Wood splintered when the ground shook again. I screamed as rotted beams peeled off a nearby trade shack, nearly striking my head. More wind. More chaos. The buildings seemed to groan and creak, swaying side to side.
By the gods, something was devouring Raven Row. I fought to remain by Cuyler and his men. I couldn’t leave them so exposed and vulnerable.
Then sing with me, Little Rose.
“Who are you!” I screamed.
The whisper didn’t respond.
“Godsdammit!” I reeled away, shielding my face, when a slat from a nearby rooftop broke free and the rusted nails still in the board nearly impaled my eye. The wind shoved me back, deeper into the Row.
When I couldn’t catch a breath against the flurry, I was forced to turn. I was forced to run.
My feet skidded over the mud. Blood raced in my skull. I didn’t look back, my gaze kept forward, desperate to find refuge long enough to hide, to think, to plan. To bleeding save the folk of my home from an attack I didn’t know how to stop.
Darkness coated Raven Row in thick waves. Blood pounded in my head. I couldn’t see a damn thing. Only a spinning maelstrom of dust and faint whispers.
I quickened my pace, desperate to find anyone. In the distance, dull light broke through the night devouring the roads and rooftops. Iron gates flung open at the end of the road, as though beckoning me inside. Darkness lived beyond, soaking spindly trees and thatched rooftops in cold night. There wasn’t another choice; I took the leap.
The knife slid out of my grip as I lunged through the gates of Hus Rose, the lands of the Mad King.
Face down in the long grass, I trembled and fought to draw in a deep enough breath. Groans and creaks came at my back. I whipped around in the same moment the heavy iron gates clanged shut.
I scrambled to my feet and curled my fingers around the bars of the gates, rattling them. A rush of panic took hold of my throat when they didn’t budge. Godsdammit, they were locked. I kicked at the gates once more, then an unnerving realization struck. With a slow turn, I looked back at Raven Row. The whole bleeding place had fallen into an empty, ghostly calm.
Where was the damn storm that had been raging through the grime moments ago? Where were the cracked windows, the debris, the sprays of wild sea?
A haunting hum flowed like velvet over the grounds. A somber voice that frightened me and softened the fear in my blood in the same breath. Like a damn hook to my chest, it tugged me forward with that first step. Buried deep in the back of my mind, heady trepidation grew. Warnings to keep back, to find a way out, flared like an instinct. But I could not halt my stride. I couldn’t turn back, too consumed by the mystery and unknowns.
My heart kept me walking deeper into the grounds, while my mind pleaded with me to flee.
