It’d been quite some time since an Ash Rider had been known in Avonleya. Believed to be descendants of Anala, the goddess of the sun and fire, Ash Riders didn’t have the typical fire magic that most Fire Fae and Anala descendants possessed. Ash Riders, instead, could move through smoke and ashes. Not only that, they could hide in them, observing everything unnoticed. They were invaluable to kingdoms and often served as spies with their obvious stealth abilities. He’d only met two other Ash Riders in his life, and they’d both disappeared centuries ago. His father had told him stories of a few others from when he was a child, but they’d long since disappeared too.
Which made it all the more interesting that one had suddenly emerged. Had she been in hiding? For how long? And why? More than that, what did she know about the creatures she could so easily slaughter?
He needed more wine for this.
With a sigh, he left his rooms, not wanting to disturb anyone at this hour to bring him another bottle. Or rather, he didn’t really want to speak with anyone right now. He didn’t have it in him at the moment to fake pleasantries. Solitude was a luxury he was rarely afforded these days.
He was halfway to the wine cellars when he realized he still had the arrow in his hand. Distracted with thoughts of the mystery female, he’d forgotten he was holding the thing. Maybe one of the weapons-makers in the castle armory would know what it was.
Reaching for the door that would lead down to the wine cellars, he stilled at what sounded like a…scream? Was somebody screaming?
It sounded again, and that was definitely someone screaming.
Cethin took off, sprinting down the hall toward the terrified sound. Skidding around a corner, he saw the female pressed against the wall. Her hand was covering her mouth, eyes wide as she stared at the floor. A member of the castle staff, the basket of linens she’d been carrying was spilled at her feet. The white fabrics among the blacks and greys were slowly turning pink.
A body lay there, blood pooling beneath another female. A female he knew.
Lady Nessira. A member of his advisory council who was in town for the meeting that was set to begin tomorrow.
And hovering between him and the body was one of the phantom creatures from the battle two days ago.
It looked identical to the others. Pale, translucent skin. Sharp features. White, pupil-less eyes.
Eyes that were somehow pinned on him. The thing tipped its head back, and with nostrils flaring, it inhaled deeply. Those haunting eyes flashed brighter, and it hissed, “Blood of death.”
The female staff member had fallen to her knees in terror, hands clutched at her chest as she whispered prayers to the gods.
“What are you?” Cethin demanded, taking a single step forward and stilling. His darkness writhed around him, but only to offer a source of comfort to the female. She didn’t know it wouldn’t work against the thing.
“I hunt those that defy him,” the creature crooned, gliding closer with two steps of its own.
That was good. It moved him farther from the female, and Cethin was clearly who it was after anyway.
“Who is ‘him?’”
The being smiled, and it was haunting, eliciting a chill he felt to the depths of his soul.
“Who do you work for?” Cethin demanded again, taking the next step in this dance they were performing.
“You shall see when you meet him, blood of the traitorous ones,” the creature said with a sneer. “Their betrayal is the sin of all their blood.”
Then the thing lunged, and Cethin scarcely had time to process the attack. He lurched to the side as the being glided past him. He spun to face it once more, and the being’s cold, dark smile grew. But now it was Cethin who stood between him and the female.
Finally recalling her name, he didn’t dare look back at her as he said, “Paesha, go find Commander Greybane or Razik.” When a few seconds passed and he didn’t hear her footfalls, he said sternly, “Paesha, now!”
He heard her scramble up then, her feet pounding as she ran in the other direction.
“How did you get here?” Cethin asked the being, hovering no more than ten feet away.
“I go where I am summoned. Where the traitors dwell,” the creature answered.
“Do you always speak with such dramatics?” he drawled, gaze roving over the thing, trying to find any sort of weaknesses, but there were none. It was so still, not even the air rippled around it. He couldn’t track his eyes because of the lack of pupils. There was no gait or movement to give away a vulnerability.
There was no warning of its attack.
In a flash, the thing flew towards him. It had clearly been studying him too. Because this time when he tried to dodge to the side, its incorporeal hand shot out, gripping his throat. Stronger than he should have been, the being slammed himagainst the wall. His head snapped back, spots appearing at the edges of his vision.
With a flourish, the being pulled a dagger from the air. The hilt and blade were as gold as the swords had been two nights ago, but before the creature could bring it to Cethin’s flesh, he thrust his hand forward.
