Desperately, she tried to catch it. But the smoke slipped through her grasp, insubstantial, fading with every pass of her hands, until there was nothing left at all.
Skatia was…was gone.
“Who are you?” That question sliced through her gasping breaths, cool and composed.
Talia froze and lifted her head.
Mariana now stood near the center of the circle, dark hair spilling over the shoulders of her crimson gown, hands curled protectively over her stomach. Golden eyes bright and steady, she stared up into the abyss. “Who are you?” their princess repeated.
The darkness coiled once more, twisting back into the shape of the man Talia had first seen—tall, beautiful, Arathian. But this time, when he took form, something about him had grown.
His presence loomed larger, filling more of the Underworld, as if there were simplymoreof him than there had been before. His shadow stretched in every direction. He smiled again, his lips peeling back from teeth too sharp to be human.
“I have been known by many names over the centuries,” he said, his voice deepening with every word spoken until it rattled straight into Talia’s bones. “Death. The Defiler. The Deceiver.”
His eyes began to glow. Red seeped into the gold until they burned like coals smoldering in his skull.
“My favorite name,” he continued, “is the current one you mortals have assigned me. One you have perhaps heard, Princess.”
His shape flickered.
Armor materialized over his skin, knitting itself out of shadow and bone—bones from humans, bones from animals—all locking together in a grotesque display until it covered him from head to toe.
“The Bonesinger,” he whispered. The word slithered through the dark like a curse. “The Kunishi have such a way with words, do they not?”
Silence fell.
No one moved. No one dared breathe.
His gaze swept slowly across the gathered Sisters. When it passed over Talia, she felt as if cold hooks were dragging across her skin, peeling her open to peer inside, to see if she was yet afraid.
“Let there be no mistake,” he continued, biting out each word. “I am your lord. Your master.” He spread his hands. Between his fingers, embers danced. “It was I who breathed the last dragonfire into your lungs! It was I who gave you this power!”
Louder now, he thundered, “It is I who will take it away should you cross me again!”
He swept his arm toward a cluster of witches Talia vaguely recognized as those stationed in Elmoria, the ones the Lady had first chastised. His burning eyes narrowed.
“You,” he hissed, leveling a finger at them. “Youwillbring me the Lightbearer’s head.”
Talia’s brow creased. Lightbearer?
Before anyone could speak, the Sisters stationed in Elmoria vanished. They didn’t unravel. They didn’t turn to smoke. They were simply no longer there. The space they had occupied folded inward, the darkness rushing to fill the gap.
Talia’s stomach twisted.
The Bonesinger’s attention shifted. His gaze found Mariana again. A slow smile coiled across his face, full of sharpened teeth and approval. “You,” he purred, gesturing lazily with one bone-clad hand. “You will continue to prepare Drakmor for my arrival.”
Mariana bowed her head. She winked out, gone like the others.
Talia swallowed a whimper.
Then his eyes found her.“You.”Her heart stopped.
The Bonesinger extended his hand, and this time the gesture encompassed her and the others from Mysai—Yara, Nadia, Shula. “Youwillfind me what I need.Now!”
The last word cracked through her like a bolt of lightning. The Underworld shattered.
Talia’s body jerked. Her lungs convulsed, suddenly remembering how to breathe. She gasped, choking on smoke that wasn’t there, on the smell of ash and salt and blood.
