Destiny's Blood

Chapter 37

"See how easily they accept darkness for one more chance to live?” Dunkat’s father hissed at his side. They stood together on a cliff, too far away to see faces but close enough to hear the screams. The wraiths, souls trapped by the shields of Mirial almost twenty years ago, had willingly accepted the tainted ether for the chance to live again.

And now they were under his control, powerful and unstoppable. Only fragments of their souls were still intact enough to realize that it was their families and kin they now destroyed.

“Mirial has always been tainted,” he whispered. He could feel his own growing power in his chest, and it was a sturdy, comforting presence even though it was made from the same ether he had learned to hate. It was the only way left to him to stop the twins, and that was all that mattered now. Noro, the Solarian defences, his own dishonour...they were all far away and insignificant. Stopping the ether was what mattered. He had seen too many suffer horribly to believe that ether could ever be a force for good.

“To reach our full power, we must be corporeal,” his father hissed, cool air brushing against Dunkat’s ear. “Then we can stop them.” Take out the enemy’s allies, then close in. It was a strategy that both Dunkat and his father had always favoured. It was one of the few things they had agreed upon, in the end.

“They will be stopped,” Dunkat confirmed. His father’s answering smile sent a chill down his spine.

He was careful not to show it.

***

Silence. No more shells. No more screams. No more gurgling.

Yoma hurt. She was still foggy from having the wind knocked out of her. Every inch of her skin felt bruised. She was surrounded by thick, heavy silence, and the red light of the moon teased her eyelids open. The first thing she saw was an arm, sticking up near her face. She fought down panic as she remembered that she was on a giant pile of bodies. They had all been knocked down by their frightened kin, who were now the few survivors of a once great people.

Her legs were weighed down. Someone was on her. She wiggled and pushed at the body, not wanting to see its face. She moved carefully, afraid of being swallowed by the limbs below her.

She could hear moans and sobs and was careful not to add her own. She was stiff and sore, but nothing seemed broken. The bodies had cushioned her fall.

“Avienne?” she whispered around and waited patiently. Thief’s breaths.

“Avienne?” she called again, fighting back her panic. She dared not push herself off the body underneath her. She tried not to think of the spine she was sitting on and its strange angle; tried not to think of the pile of bodies that had saved her life.

“Am I on what I think I am?” Yoma finally heard the slurred reply. She rolled over and crawled carefully towards the sound of the smuggler’s voice. The pile of bodies gave way and shifted underneath her, trapped her arms and legs between limbs several times. Her heart pounded.

“Blood and bones, it is.” Avienne’s voice became stronger as she sat up, making it easier for Yoma to spot her, the woman’s hair vibrant in the light. The red moonlight reflected morbidly on pale skin and lifeless eyes. Yoma focused on Avienne, not looking down to make sure her path was secure, not thinking about the lukewarm surfaces beneath her.

“Are you okay?” Yoma asked.

“I will be once we’re off this thing.” Avienne pushed herself to her feet, biting back a yelp of pain.

“What’s wrong?” Yoma stood carefully, wincing as something crunched under her foot on her way forward to support Avienne.

“I sprained my bloody ankle. Of all the rotten luck.”