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Back The Ones We Burn Save as PDF
Chapters (93)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Part One: Skra: Sixty Days Remain
  5. PART ONE SKRA SIXTY DAYS REMAIN
  6. 1
  7. 2
  8. 3
  9. 4 Two weeks later
  10. 5
  11. 6
  12. 7
  13. 8
  14. 9
  15. 10
  16. 11
  17. 12
  18. 13
  19. 14
  20. 15
  21. 16
  22. 17
  23. 18
  24. Part Two: Monster: Twenty-Five Days Remain
  25. PART TWO MONSTER TWENTY-FIVE DAYS REMAIN
  26. 19
  27. 20
  28. 21
  29. 22
  30. 23
  31. 24
  32. 25
  33. 26
  34. 27
  35. 28
  36. 29
  37. 30
  38. 31
  39. Part Three: Butcher: Six Days Remain
  40. PART THREE BUTCHER SIX DAYS REMAIN
  41. 32
  42. 33
  43. 34
  44. 35
  45. 36
  46. 37
  47. 38
  48. 39
  49. 40
  50. 41
  51. 42
  52. 43
  53. 44
  54. 45
  55. 46
  56. 47
  57. 48
  58. 49
  59. 50
  60. 51
  61. 52
  62. 53
  63. Part Four: Bloodwinn: Coup Successful
  64. PART FOUR BLOODWINN COUP SUCCESSFUL
  65. 54
  66. 55
  67. 56
  68. 57
  69. 58
  70. 59
  71. 60
  72. 61
  73. 62
  74. 63
  75. 64
  76. 65
  77. 66
  78. 67
  79. 68
  80. 69
  81. 70
  82. 71
  83. 72
  84. 73
  85. 74
  86. 75
  87. 76
  88. 77
  89. 78
  90. 79
  91. 80 EPILOGUE Three months later
  92. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  93. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tell me no, a part of Ranka begged. Tell me there isn’t a chance. Tell me everything or nothing at all, but that it’s my fault she’s gone.

“You know I don’t believe in coincidences,” Ongrum said slowly. “And it was only Yeva they went after. The witch who died in front of you, child—was she blonde like you?”

“Yes,” Ranka croaked, her voice weak.

Her legs threatened to buckle. It was her fault, then, truly. After all this time—after everything Yeva and the Skra and Ongrum had done for her—her sister had been right. She was a threat to everyone around her. A monster, even when she tried so hard to be anything but. And now Yeva would pay the price.

“It’s your choice,” Ongrum said finally. “I backed you before when the prince wanted you to head south; I’ll back you now if you wish to remain hiding from him still.”

“Just tell me this,” Ranka whispered. “Is there a chance—even a small one—that I can save her?”

“Oh, witchling.” Ongrum touched her cheek. “You’ll save them all.”

Ranka touched her bracelet—and drew her axe. “Tell me what I have to do.”

4 Two weeks later

“HANDS OUT!”

Ranka sank into her cloak, sweating in the relentless heat, and tightened her grip on the poster she’d stolen. Six guards swathed in mourner’s black manned the checkpoint ahead, armed with buckets of soapy water and instant-click torches. Behind them, the royal city of Seaswept rose up before the sea, a behemoth of light, sound, and life. Seabirds whirled over a bay choked with dozens of ships, some Isodalian, some bearing flags and cargo from nations across the Broken Sea. Envy coated Ranka’s tongue. Unlike Witchik’s shoreline of harsh cliffs and storm-plagued seas, Isodal’s sloping beaches and gentle waves had allowed the humans to open hundreds of trading ports, and it had made them strong.

If it were reversed, Ranka thought bitterly, eyes tracking the ships, if it were Witchik connected to the rest of the world, it would be us who grew rich on your resources. It would be us who lived like gods while you starved.

“Next!”

A child stumbled to the front of the line. A pale human guard seized his wrists and shoved his hands into an old wash pail, scrubbed his nails with a brush, and yanked his hands back up. Sunlight hit his fingers—pink against brown skin. Human.

“Clear,” the guard drawled. He stamped the child’s checkpoint card and waved him through. The boy whimpered and stumbled past, waiting for the rest of his family to be processed.