A shiver collected at the base of her neck and then shot down her spine to her arms and legs. Wind swirled around the crowd, and it smelled not of the sea, but like a blooming field of flowers. Eshiel bowed so his forehead rested against the opened rib cage. His arms sank deeper into its core. The corpse shimmered, flesh curling and peeling as if it were within a furnace. The wind howled. The cliff shook beneath them. Eshiel cried out, wordless, primal, and then tore his arms free.

The corpse exploded into flame, consumed with such fury not a shred of ash or bone endured to fall upon the witnesses. Eshiel stood to his full height, bare chest heaving, tattoos rippling, and they were fire, the tattoos, they were burning. He tilted his head back as the communal prayer ceased. Blood trickled down his face, mixing with his tears as a wave of emotion overcame him. His voice, normally deep as the ocean, suddenly trembled as he whispered.

“Lycaena, return to us, even if it must be in blood.”

Dark flame burst from the six pillars, flowing in thin streams to the space above the altar. It collected together, shaped, took form. Fire became flesh and cloth. Light and heat became wing and dress. Keles dropped to her knees, and she wept with dozens of others in the crowd. “Return to us,” Eshiel had demanded, and Lycaena answered. Somehow, despite her death, despite the knives of the church’s priests, she answered. She came. She lived.

“My goddess,” Keles said, eyes wide, hands reaching, soul offered once more to the wondrous being of compassion and love to whom she had sworn her life since the day she knew how to walk.

A touch upon her fingertips, hot and dripping with blood. In that moment, Keles knew she would never leave. What price Eshiel demanded, she would pay. What lives must be offered, let them be offered. The empire had taken their goddess. Let their soldiers be sacrificed for her return.

“It’s true,” she said, and wept uncontrollably. She closed her fingers and clutched her fists to her breast so she could still feel the residual heat. The years of warfare and despair, of crushing doubt and self-hatred for failing to prevent the death of the one she loved most, bled away.

“You live. Goddess, you live.”

if you enjoyed

THE BLADED FAITH

look out for

THE PARIAH

Book One of The Covenant of Steel

by

Anthony Ryan

The Pariah begins a new epic fantasy series of action, intrigue, and magic from Anthony Ryan, a master storyteller who has taken the fantasy world by storm.