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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

Ranka swayed as fire ripped through her, as blood-magic and winalin warred all at once.

“Now I am going to give you something you were never capable of. Mercy.”

And then Ranka pulled the woman who’d raised her against her chest and tipped over the cliff.

78

THEY FELL. THE WORLD FLASHED around Ranka. Ongrum screamed, clawing at her, and Ranka pushed her away. Together they tumbled, hurtling through the air—and then they hit the sea.

Water poured into Ranka’s lungs. The winalin in her body kept raging, fighting with her blood-magic, warping it into something new. Her lungs burned.

And finally, after seventeen years, Ranka stopped fighting.

She let herself sink. Let the ocean pour into her lungs and turn her body into a leaden, cold thing. She pictured the cabin in the woods, those moss-dusted walls, the river that would always run.

If there is a next life, she willed, send me there.

Something splashed overhead. Salt water stung Ranka’s eyes, rendering the ocean around her a blur. A witch with sweeping tattoos and a brown neck ringed with shark’s teeth dove toward her.

No, she wanted to say. I’m done.

It was someone else’s turn to fight.

Let me go.

Blackness crept across her vision.

A hand closed around her hair and pulled her up.

Ranka was dying.

At least—she was trying to.

Voices cried out all around her. She coughed violently, seawater spilling from her lungs, and her power twisted, jerking out of her control as soon as she summoned it. Strength flooded her body—but so did illness. Her skin turned feverish, and sores opened up on her palms. Fire burned in her veins, and with it came an unnatural hunger, a desperate, crushing need to kill, like the demands of her blood-magic tenfold. Hands pinned her down.

They should have let me drown.

I was almost done—why couldn’t they just let me drown?

Familiar voices wrapped around her, vying for her attention, and Ranka fought, unable to see, hear, or feel anything but the burning in her veins.

A voice cut through the fog.

Witch girl.

Look at me.

Ranka Volst, damn you, open your eyes.

Ranka opened her eyes. She was on a beach. Witches and humans alike pinned her down. Her body was a festering, rotting thing.

Above her stood a girl. The girl. The one she’d betrayed, the one she’d burn down the world for, even now.

The world burned black and white—but she was all screaming color.

Aramis was sobbing. From her pocket, she drew a vial. It was the sole survivor from her workshop, the almost-cure that had nearly saved the Kerth.

Ranka stared up at her, a strange peace sweeping over her. The vaccine would kill her, surely. It would put an end to it. Maybe her corpse would prove useful. Maybe, somewhere in her diseased, poisoned veins, lay the cure.