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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

When the darkness finally took her, it was a relief.

11

THE MONTHS THAT FOLLOWED BELREN had been unbearable.

For three months Ranka did not rise from bed. Her world was a fog of pain and nightmares, of days spent swathed in bandages while her body burned with a new, furious power and a never-ending hunger. With sleep came the nightmares—bodies in the snow, houses collapsing under the weight of flames, and a sister’s voice screaming what have you done?

“Ranka?” a familiar voice whispered. “Are you awake?”

Ranka’s eyes cracked open.

“There are those pretty gray eyes,” Yeva murmured. “You had me worried, sleeping for three days straight again. Are you hurting?”

Yeva leaned over her, her narrow face pinched with concern. At sixteen, she was training to be a healer. Her witchery was too weak for her to scout or fight, but her sharpened sense of smell, like Ranka’s, gave her a penchant for sniffing out disease or festering wounds. Asyil sat in the corner, grinding a poultice she balanced on her thigh. Asyil was no healer like Yeva, had no desire to be one. But she would go wherever her sister did.

Ranka understood that more than anything.

She’d been dreaming again—not of Belren, but of Vivna, holding her hand, leading her through the snow, her cheeks rosy, scarf snapping in the winter wind. These days, it was always Vivna she dreamed of.

“I’m going to change your bandages—can you sit up for me?”

This was their routine. Yeva came every morning, to change Ranka’s bandages, clean her wounds, hunt for any sign of gangrene or a warning that a burn was about to turn necrotic. She was gentle in a way Ranka had never known, and she was kind. It was those gray winter mornings that made the nights bearable, that precious hour as Yeva cared for Ranka and Asyil rattled off updates on the latest camp drama that helped Ranka forget, if only briefly, that she was only a girl of twelve and she’d already lost everything that mattered.

Until the hunger came.

It was always there, that ache in her veins, the twitch in her hands. Even now bits of gray spotted her vision. She could hear Yeva’s heartbeat, quick and nervous in the watery light of dawn. She could scent the witches beyond the cabin walls. At night she heard their whispers.

“The first blood-witch in twenty years…”

“Did you see what she did to that town?”

“If she could do that at twelve, imagine once she’s an adult….”

“I think our mornings together may end soon.” Yeva’s smile didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I brought you something.” From her pocket she pulled a bracelet. It was beautiful—a delicate leather band adorned with shimmering, iridescent orange beads. Human craft, by the look of it.