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Back Sea of Shadows
Chapters (61)
  1. Dedication
  2. Prologue
  3. Ashyn: One
  4. Two
  5. Three
  6. Four
  7. Five
  8. Six
  9. Seven
  10. Eight
  11. Moria: Nine
  12. Ten
  13. Eleven
  14. Twelve
  15. Thirteen
  16. Ashyn: Fourteen
  17. Fifteen
  18. Sixteen
  19. Moria: Seventeen
  20. Eighteen
  21. Nineteen
  22. Twenty
  23. Twenty-one
  24. Twenty-two
  25. Ashyn: Twenty-three
  26. Twenty-four
  27. Twenty-five
  28. Twenty-six
  29. Twenty-seven
  30. Twenty-eight
  31. Twenty-nine
  32. Thirty
  33. Moria: Thirty-one
  34. Thirty-two
  35. Thirty-three
  36. Thirty-four
  37. Thirty-five
  38. Thirty-six
  39. Thirty-seven
  40. Ashyn: Thirty-eight
  41. Thirty-nine
  42. Forty
  43. Forty-one
  44. Forty-two
  45. Forty-three
  46. Forty-four
  47. Forty-five
  48. Forty-six
  49. Forty-seven
  50. Forty-eight
  51. Forty-nine
  52. Moria: Fifty
  53. Fifty-one
  54. Fifty-two
  55. Fifty-three
  56. Fifty-four
  57. Fifty-five
  58. About the Author
  59. Back Ad
  60. Credits
  61. About the Publisher

Not Daigo. Not a paw. A misshapen hand with talons as long as the fingers themselves.

She grabbed her father’s shoulders to haul him to safety. His eyes were open. Those blue eyes she knew so well, the whites shot with blood. Then she saw his face.

With a cry, she released him and fell back. She hit the floor. Daigo leaped onto her, facing off with whatever . . .

Father. It’s . . .

No, it wasn’t. Couldn’t be.

Then the cry came, a moaning, snarling screech that set every hair on end. The claws swiped at Daigo. The wildcat pounced and caught the thing by the wrist. The other hand slashed Daigo’s back. With a howl, Moria yanked out her dagger and leaped up.

Then she saw it. Truly saw it.

It was her father. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t—couldn’t be—but it was. Her father’s blue eyes. Her father’s fair hair. But not her father’s face. The face of something from a nightmare, gray skin stretched over bone, jutting chin and nose and cheekbones. No lips, just a slash of a mouth. And teeth. Fangs. So big his mouth couldn’t close. He let out another of those terrible cries, his jaw stretching open until all she could see were the fangs. They shot toward Daigo.

Moria broke from her shock and lunged at him. Her blade was raised, but she couldn’t swing it down, her arm refusing to move, her mind telling her this was her father, no matter what she was seeing. All she could do was swipe at him with her free hand. It was a feeble blow, but enough to surprise him. He turned on her. Daigo dropped between them, fur rising as he spat.

Moria made a noise. She wasn’t even truly sure what it was, but Daigo understood. He backed up to her side.

The thing on the sleeping mat—not my father, not my father—pushed its gnarled legs from beneath the covers. Its gaze stayed fixed on her, head bobbing, nostrils flaring. Drinking in her scent. Thinking. Considering. Planning.

“Father?” she said. Her voice came out so low she barely heard it. She tried again. “Father? You’re in there. I know you are.”

He’s not. You can see that. Look in his eyes and you’ll see it. He’s gone. This is a . . .

No, no, it’s not.

It is.

Shadow stalker.

This was the missing piece. The one part that had made her think it wasn’t shadow stalkers in the forest. Because they hadn’t seen this. The risen dead. The manifested form.

Her father was gone. This . . . thing was a twisted spirit inhabiting his body. He was . . .

Her breath caught, and it stayed caught, and she stood there, unable to draw air, chest burning, vision blurring.

Dead. My father is dead. This thing killed him.