I have no choice but to watch him go, even though my deep light sparks within me and the compulsion to go after Asha is strong.
I kept her alive.
I warmed her.
And now I can only watch as she returns to the people who will undoubtedly continue harming her.
Fuck.
I want to rage after Kalith, not only because Asha’s disappearing from my sight, but because it means that all of this death…
My father’s life… The threat to Thoren… The wolves’ imprisonment…
I grind my teeth together and turn my hands into fists, promising myself that it won’t be for nothing.
It can’t be for nothing.
Chapter 23
It takes us another two hours to skirt around the city, heading north through the western mountains before we turn sharply east to cut back toward the city’s northern side.
I catch glimpses of its wall in the distance, an imposing, continuous structure that follows a gentle arc, appearing broadly circular like the ring of mountains that sit around it.
Skirra stays at Malak’s side, padding quietly through the snow and then the debris covering the ground as we leave the colder areas behind and the environment changes around us.
The muzzle Malak placed around his face is structured so he can pant but not bite with a collar around his neck and a leash with which Malak leads him.
We finally reach the base of the mountains, but the trees are thick enough that I can’t see what the terrain ahead looks like until we step through them.
My boots crunch and I freeze on the spot.
A massive field of white stretches for miles into the distance, all the way across to the eastern mountains opposite us and all the way left to the mountains in the north.
The field appears to be covered in snow, but the flecks swirling in the air in front of me aren’t cold.
They’re ashen, like bones ground to powder.
Ahead of us, blackened and skeletal trees litter the field. One such tree stands only a pace away from me, its black boughs stretching toward the greener forest we came from as if it wishes for life.
Thoren’s soft exclamation sounds behind me as he steps onto the field. “What hellfire burned here?”
The Einherjar would consider this a bad omen, the act of an angry god, but I am not so superstitious.
Blacksmiths happened here. I’m certain of it.
My skin prickles with an energy I can’t define and an eerie clanging fills the air.
Thoren’s eyes are wide as he peers at the flurries of white dust swirling in the air directly ahead of us. “The ground here is…wrong.”
A flicker of sapphire light tinges his clothing blue around his heart, the light visible where his coat was pushed aside by the claws.
It’s the first time I’ve seen Thoren’s deep light flicker today, and I quickly catch hold of his arm, looking at his chest.
His jaw clenches visibly and his light fades.
Just in time before Malak’s footfalls sound behind us.
I hurry to move onward, brushing my hand against the nearby tree. Its bark crumbles to dust at my touch and the white ash kicks up around my boots, flecks floating across our path as we move toward the city.
