Kaven’s arms tightened around me, as if afraid I might slip away. My chest ached at the thought.
He deserved so much better.
Chapter 4
“Death is not the only end.
Ascend from ruin and rejoice in being made anew.
One must both choose and be chosen.
For hidden in flesh and accessed through spirit,
a pure soul may find its light at last.”
- The Old Book
Iawoke from my dreamless sleep to panicked screams seeping in from outside. The sound reverberated through my body. I shot upright, air bursting from my lungs, leaving me gasping. Turning my attention to the bedchamber window, I noticed flickering lights below.
The distant roar of chaos sent ice down my spine. I knew that sound. I had lived that sound before. A memory surfaced unbidden—screams, fire, bodies dragged into the night. I was right back where I had been ten years ago.
The Culling had begun.
“Kaven!” I shook him fiercely. “Kaven!”
He jolted awake and looked at me in a confused daze, which quickly turned into a fear-twisted rage. We heard pounding on a door a level below and the sound of a latch breaking. Our heads immediately spun in opposite directions.
Jumping out of bed, I threw on an overcoat and rushed out of the room.
Out in the hall, Alona’s door hung ajar. When I opened it further, I found the inside of the room cold and empty. Kaven’s voice barely registered in my mind as he yelled after me to wait for him. I ran instead.
With my mind racing, I sprinted across the landing. My hand latched onto the banister, slick with a cold sweat, as I slid down. I half-leapt, half-fell down thestairs, the slap of my bare feet echoing on each step. Once I reached the bottom of the stairwell, I searched for Alona in the main rooms, but I couldn’t find her.
A hand gripped my wrist hard from behind, and I whipped around to meet the eyes of Grandmother Alma. They were full of tears.
Her words splintered as she spoke, “Don’t let them steal my grandchild.”
My gut clenched.
“I won’t. I promise.”
I was resolute in my word.
Kaven soon appeared, panting and looking disheveled, with the top laces of his tunic undone. I hurried out the door. He could catch up.
The outside world was pitch black. The only light came from frantic torches roaming the village like specks in the distance. I heard the shrieking screams of women and children echoing alongside the guttural yells of men. Families were dragged from their homes and separated. Those who fought back were beaten bloody.
The Veiled Ones had come once again in the night, looking the same as they did ten years ago. They were shrouded in black, a plague come to claim us once more. My fists clenched as Veiled Ones—or Veilers—swarmed the town like flies.
I stood in the center of the cobblestone street and watched the scene unfold in disbelief. I begged my body to move, but it refused. My feet stayed rooted in place as my mind raced, each thought fighting for dominance.
A firm hand seized my shoulders with bruising force, and then my side was jerked into an unfamiliar chest—a Veiler. He smiled, his crooked teeth sharp and protruding. The smell of his breath made me gag.
“Caught you,” he snickered.
Instinctively, I slammed my elbow back into his face. He let go of my shoulders to cover his bloody lips and curse me. His words dripped with menace.
“I’m going to gut you!”
