Chapter 31

Seth wrapped his arms around the Bonefire Sphere, its power tearing him apart even as I watched. Flesh burned away, sloughed from bone, and still - somehow - he wrenched it free. Then he and the sphere vanished together, tumbling over the spillway and into the dark below.

I roared. The sound tore out of me - pain, grief, fury, all bound together. He couldn’t die. Not like that. Not now.

I heaved upward with everything I had. Stone bit into my back, my arms and legs screaming as I pushed. My wings buckled, membranes tearing under the strain. The ceiling split with a sound like the world breaking, and I **** it up and away. Screams echoed from above as the street gave way. A building collapsed onto my spine, the weight nearly driving me to my knees.

I roared again and did not yield.

Bit by bit, I tore us free of the rubble. My foreclaws broke through to open air and I reared up, shattered stone sliding from my back as the opening widened. I hauled myself out and beat my wings, trying to take to the sky - but the torn membrane failed me. I crashed into a nearby building, claws scrabbling for purchase, then pushed off and hurled myself toward the river.

I hit the water like a falling tower, docks and boats splintering beneath me.

Bubbles marked the path of the Bonefire Sphere as it burned even underwater, its light flashing erratically as it struck the riverbed. I plunged after it, searching - panicking - until I saw him. Seth’s body was being dragged downstream, limp and broken.

I caught him in my claws and surged upward, breaking the surface and holding him clear of the water. I staggered to the bank and laid him gently on the stones, my breathing ragged, my strength spent.

He barely looked human anymore. The flesh of his face was gone, his ribs laid bare, his arms little more than blackened bone. And yet—somehow—his heart still beat. I could see it twitching, scorched but stubborn, between the exposed ribs beside what remained of his lungs.

I cried out for Mirri, my voice breaking, tears burning hot as they fell.

He was still alive. She had to be able to save him.

* * *

The world had become a confusing place. I wasn’t sure when it had happened, or how. I couldn’t even remember what had made it this way. All that remained were fragments - pain, fear, grief - and beneath them, like echoes refusing to fade, innocence, hope, and love. My heart struggled to keep its rhythm, pulled between them, each beat threatening to tear it apart.

“He’s not yours, witch,” came the hiss of a feminine voice, sharp with anger.

“Nor is he yours,” another replied. The voice was heavy with old sorrow, and somehow… familiar.

“He is my champion,” the first insisted.

“He is no one’s champion,” the mournful woman answered. “Just because you gave him an old bone - a bone meant for another - does not mean you own him.”

“Just because he reminds you of-” the angry voice spat.

“You will not speak his name,” the sorrowful voice cut in, and this time there was power behind it - cold and absolute. “Do so, and I will tear out your tongue and feed it to Nahl. I’m certain she would savor such a filthy morsel, especially in her weakened state.”

A pause. Then, bitterly, “He was my lover too.”

“He was your pawn,” came the reply, laden with grief. “One you were content to sacrifice in your little games. Now leave. My patience for foolishness wears thin, and I will not hesitate to remove you.”

“The Witan will hear of this insult,” the angry one snapped.

“I have never been bound by your Playcircle,” the melancholic woman said quietly, “nor will I ever be. Go.”

* * *

I opened my eyes to an unfamiliar room.

Gray flagstones climbed the walls to meet thick beams and a low, flat wooden ceiling. A hearth set into the far wall burned with split logs, its steady flames chasing away any lingering cold. To my left stood a rough wooden door, plain and sturdy.

I lay in a narrow bed—simple frame, lumpy mattress—covered in soft, hairy hides and weighed down by thick wool blankets. I was naked beneath them, and a quick glance around confirmed there was little furniture and no sign of clothing. The room itself was small, no more than eight by ten feet, the ceiling barely seven feet high. There were no windows; the fire was the only source of light.

A woman crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed.

I was certain I had been alone a moment before, yet there she was. She wore a simple gray dress. Her white hair was braided like a princess’s, and dark makeup traced her eyes, sharpening their pale intensity.

“Yveth,” I said. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Is it?” she asked, her voice level and distant.

“It is to me,” I replied with a smile. I thought I saw the faintest hint of color touch her cheeks.

“I do not wish to disturb you. You have slept a long while,” she said, shifting as though to rise - then lingering instead.

“What happened?” I asked. My memories felt tangled, blurred at the edges.

“I will leave that for your companions to explain,” she said. “But know this - your regeneration may come as a shock to them. You were little more than a shell while your essence repaired itself.” This time she stood. “Come see me, if it pleases you. I would speak with you again.”

She walked past me - and vanished through the wall at the head of the bed.

I swung my legs over the side and stood, pulling a blanket around myself for modesty. The stone floor was cold underfoot, but not unpleasant. I opened the door into a larger, dim room - a sort of common space. A table with four chairs sat in one corner, a rocking chair in another. A rough tapestry hung on the wall behind me. Six doors led off the room, counting the one I’d just exited. Despite the darkness, every detail stood clear.

I tried the door to my right, which opened to the outside.

A thin crust of snow covered the ground. Wind tugged at the blanket, sharp but not biting. I stepped out.

Snow and leaves crunched beneath my bare feet, yet I felt no discomfort. I stood atop a large hill in a forest of pines. The moon hung overhead, casting its pale green light across the land. The children - those rocky forms that always seemed to follow the moon here - trailed quietly behind. Broad clouds drifted lazily across the sky, half-obscuring the low haze of blue and red along the horizon.

The view stretched for miles over the treetops. An owl hooted somewhere nearby. Three deer picked their way down a slope, nosing through the snow in search of food.

Behind me, beyond the squat stone house, lay the ruins of an old keep. Only two walls remained, one broken by a jagged, window-sized hole. The stones matched those of the house itself.

I stepped back inside and closed the door.

The door set caddy-corner to mine opened, and Ashlara stepped out, axe in hand. “Seth?” she called softly, surprise plain on her face. Then, louder, “Seth!” She dropped her axe rushed forward, wrapping me in her arms and lifting me clear off the ground. I hugged her back as she spun me, her tears warm against my neck.

The door beside mine opened and Mirri poked her head out. “Seth?” she called - and then ran to us as Ashlara set me down. I scooped her into my arms.

“Thren?” came Lilae’s small, hopeful voice. I smiled and beckoned her over, lifting her up alongside her mother.

Across from us, Serah opened her door. I crossed the room and pulled her into the embrace as well. She stood rigid for several heartbeats, stunned, before slowly returning the hug.

“How?” Mirri managed through her tears.

“Yveth said my essence had to heal first,” I answered.

“What does that mean?” she asked. “Is she here?” Mirri craned her neck to look around.

“I have no idea,” I returned. “And not anymore. She left through the wall.” I tightened my hold on all of them. “It’s so good to see you. Where are we?”

“We’re home,” Mirri said, sniffing. “Grams sent us to the city so the village could build this place as a surprise. A house.”

“I’ll have to thank her,” I told her, and I meant it.

* * *

We talked until the sun came up, Lilae asleep in my lap the whole time.

They told me what had happened, filling in the gaps in my memory and what transpired while I was ****. I’d managed to wrench the Bonefire Sphere free from its pedestal and we’d both gone over the spillway together, tumbling into the river below. Serah broke free of the sewers and found me not long after. Between them all, they’d saved roughly half of the children who’d been taken. The rest… I tried not to dwell on it, but the weight of those lives pressed down on me all the same. I wished I’d done more. I should have done more. I just didn’t know how - especially when I hadn’t even known there was a problem until it was already too late.

Ashlara destroyed the undead and helped evacuate the remaining children up to the street. The city was left scarred - by the collapsing cistern, by the sphere’s magic, and by Serah’s rescue of me from the river.

None of that mattered to the authorities.

Ashlara was arrested despite the fact that she’d saved lives - human lives included. Had she not stopped the skeletons, the **** toll would have been far worse. A so-called dragon hunter posse was formed almost immediately, and Serah fled once Mirri reached my side. She returned later in her human form, once she was sure the hunters had lost her trail. Mirri did what she could for me, then tried to argue Ashlara’s case, but no one was interested in listening.

When it became clear reason wasn’t going to win the day, Mirri and Serah broke Ashlara out of jail.

By then I was barely more than a skeleton, most of my flesh gone. Somehow my heart kept beating and no one could explain how or why.

We’d spent nearly a week in and around Northgate by that point. There was no sign of the sphere or of Case. Adhaneth was gone as well, vanished in the chaos, only to reappear weeks later in my room without explanation. Once the girls were together again, they returned to Reedwatch without the supplies we’d gone to collect.

While we were gone, Grams had organized the goblins to build the house we now lived in. They reused the stone from nearby ruins nearby - an old human outpost abandoned centuries ago when the borders shifted. Once it had been called Northwatch Keep. The goblins simply called it The Bones.

It sat about half a day south of Reedwatch. Far enough to be outside the village’s jurisdiction. Close enough that Grams, Mirri, and Lilae could still visit.

It’d been just shy of a month now. Winter had settled in, and it promised to be a hard one. Without the supplies from Northgate, Reedwatch would struggle. Out here, in our new home, we had even less stored away.

I was going to have to find a way to change that. I had a family to support.