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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

Most who remained were women. A deliberate choice, she was sure. That’s why they found no guards. The warriors had been killed and had risen again, as had the other able-bodied men.

Building an army.

The men had risen, and their wives . . . Moria knew that the men were responsible for the corpses she’d found. They’d risen, possessed by shadow stalkers, and slaughtered their own families.

But the children . . . ? That’s what she didn’t understand. There were no children. She was blessedly glad not to find them horribly murdered, like their mothers. But what had happened to them? Had they died and risen again? Perhaps the older boys, even the older girls. Yet they were all gone, down to the baker’s daughter, barely able to toddle.

Again, she had to brush past Gavril in the doorway. He’d been better after the first house, but now he seemed frozen in the baker’s home. She pushed on. The next house was hers. When she neared it, her head started to throb. She rubbed the back of her neck. It didn’t help. Nothing would help but getting past this.

As she pulled open the door, she heard a soft flutter, like the wings of a moth. She lifted the lantern and saw a note pinned to the door with a needle. A note in her sister’s handwriting.

Moria grabbed it and smoothed it as she turned to sit on the front stoop, lantern perched on her lap, light leaping over the paper.

Moria,

Wenda says you’re with the children, long gone, but in case she is wrong, I ought to leave a note.

Everyone is dead or missing. I do not know what has happened, only that I am certain you are safe, because I would feel it otherwise. Father is . . . You know what has happened. I will speak no more of it until I see you, which I pray will be soon.

Men took the children. Men on horseback. I do not know why. Wenda believes she saw you with them, so we follow. The horses head east. There is nowhere else to go, I suppose.

If you find this note, come, but take care. Ronan has left us, but I am with Tova and Gregor of the guards, and I have my dagger, which I am quite capable of using, however much you insist otherwise. We are safe and we are fine, and I do not wish you to kill yourself rushing to my rescue. I do not need rescue. I need my sister, alive and unharmed.

Ashyn

“They’re safe,” Moria whispered to Daigo, sitting beside her. “Ashyn and Tova. They’re safe.”

He chuffed, as if this was never in question. She looked up to tell Gavril but found herself staring into the night.