Chapters (53)
- Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area- Western Half
- Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area - Eastern Half
- Map of Kingdom of Finfalla and Surrounding Area - Full Map
- Important Trigger Warning
- Prologue
- PART I
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Interlude: The River of Life
- PART II
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Interlude: Fallow Fields
- PART III
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Interlude: Of Man and Monster
- PART IV
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- POSTLUDES
- Postlude 1: Lana Vica
- Postlude 2: Ludo Vica
- Postlude 3: Cainan
- Acknowledgments
- An excerpt from Heartsworn, Volume II in The Forsworn Oath, available for preorder now!
- PART I
It was madness. It was impulsive. Perfidy hadn’t even had time to grieve, hadn’t even had time to process, well, anything. Here, in Northpoint, she had a house to live in, a house with a roof that no longer leaked. She had a warm bed to sleep in. And yet, the woman was right. Northpoint was no longer her home, and it never would be again. She had nothing left here but pain and pitying stares.
After only another moment’s hesitation, she took her hand.
Fourteen
Bryony
Kestrel, Finfalla
She’d left her mother behind her.
Outside the door, she was greeted by screams and more fire. Frantic and wild, she spun around, taking in the horrifying scene. The entire town was aflame. There was ol’ Mr. Potter’s bakery, its windows, usually filled with aromatic delights, shattered and coughing out smoke. There was the market where her mother surprised her with a piece of fresh fruit whenever she had a coin to spare, now spitting out sparks as its walls crumbled to ash and ruin. No structure had been spared, the inferno complete.
Father? she tried to say, but though her lips moved, no sound arose. She coughed again, and this time hacked up something black and phlegmy onto the road. As tears streamed down her face, everything was spinning, a kaleidoscopic tornado of flame and smoke.
But then he was there, by her side, a comforting hand on her back. “Bryony, thank the gods,” her father said. Something was unusual about his face, and in her confusion it took her longer than it should’ve to realize that the dye on his cheeks and forehead had faded away to almost nothing, revealing the armies of golden leaves that marred his complexion.
“Mother,” was all she could croak.
“I know. Now I need you to listen. I must leave you for a moment. I need you to be strong. Can you be strong for me?” She managed a nod. “Good, girl. Now you need to run as far away from the village as you can, as far away from the fires. Can you do that?” Another nod. She could do this if it meant her father would save her mother.
Her father kissed her forehead, turned, and raced off.
She gaped at him as he disappeared. Not inside their burning house, but down the street, in the wrong direction. “Father!” she screamed, and he stopped and turned. His gold-leaf-littered face was twisted with sadness and regret.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and then he was gone, for good this time, vanishing into a whorl of smoke blown from the burning buildings.
All Bryony wanted to do was fall to the ground, hug her knees, and close her eyes until it was all over.