Page 21 of Ashen Blade

For hundreds of years, the scraps of her daughter’s solynaer-made blanket had lain buried in loam and dirt. She had not washed her hands for weeks after burying it, knowing once she did, the last touches of Saelith would vanish from her world. When she finally washed the blood and filth from her sorrow-bent body, she planted flowers over the buried remnants of her daughter and watered them with her tears.

She wished she could have buried herself, too.

But now a hideous thing bloomed in her chest. Her heart beat with anticipation again, and the clouds began to clear from her eyes. She wished not to decay, but to stand tall—to feel the moonlight upon her face and the stars stir within.

Hope.

It was a cruel gift from the gods. It hollowed people from within. Had ruined her before.

And would ruin her again.

“S-Sae…Saelith,” she whispered, voice cracking as she uttered her daughter’s name for the first time since that blood-soaked night.

Slowly, neck cracking with pain, she lifted her head to the moon overhead. Radiant silver light blinded her vision, yet still she beheld its glory.

“I…I will find you.”

Even if such a thing were impossible, she would defy the gods again to find her daughter.

It’s what he would want her to do.

eight

Unglamorous Entrances

Elarian crawled in darkness, deep and unending. Only the sloshing of fetid water and the stench of excrement accompanied her shivering form. Every so often, copper wafted to her nose. Blood had long been her companion in the gloaming hours of night, but now she found herself grateful to be spared the sight accompanying the foul air in her lungs.

Gods, the stench!

After three long weeks crossing the Evermist, she had almost forgotten how much worse the sewers could be.

Stone scraped against her palms, and her knees ached from staying bent for so long. She had begun to dry heave long ago—the lavender satchels only lasted so long—but still she crawled.

At last, she saw a flicker in the distance. The promise of light almost brought her to tears. Her breathing quickened. Close, so close! She could almost smell the cloying sweetness of the shivaem even as the filth piled up under her hands. If she had to crawl another league through this tunnel caked in grime and feces, she might simply stab herself and spare everyone the trouble. Grinding her teeth, she pushed on.

After a few minutes, the hazy outline of a grate appeared, dull metal glinting in the dark. She rushed forward, stumbling in the stagnant water until it sloshed over her tall boots. Every step squelched beneath her aching feet.

Godsdamn shivaem!

Closer, closer.

Her fingers wrapped around cold metal. She heaved her shoulder into it with a grunt. It groaned but did not move. Again she pushed, and again it protested. For one terrible moment, she feared it was rusted shut.

Godsdamn him, open!

Yelling, she slammed into the grate one last time. A shower of filth and fetid water rained down around her as the bolts finally gave way. She pushed up; cold stone met her palms. Chest heaving, she hauled herself from the drainage tunnel and collapsed onto the freezing floor.

Exhausted, she lay there until her breathing steadied. The cloying scent of vanilla and floral perfumes filled her lungs. Sitting up slowly, she surveyed herself. Dark, bloody water dripped from her short strands now slicked back and caked with rotting debris. Bits of moss and twigs from the drainage exit still clung to her clothes. Something she desperately hoped was mud slid from her boot with a wet splat.

Elarian grimaced as she stood.

The illustrious Ashen Blade, terror of the shivaem and prodigy of the Voice…

…climbing from a hole full of shit and blood.

Three weeks.

Three weeks crossing the Evermist and crawling through filth, bleeding for a cause that had long ago stopped asking for her permission to take. Elarian laughed despite herself. Out of all the places she’d gone hunting the vampire prince, this was by far the most vile. She didn’t know which would be worse: crawling through the sewer or soon pretending to be an adoring thrall for this court of blood and undeath.