CHAPTER 22

SLADE

The bridge to nowhere was aptly named. There is no place to be seen in this thick fog. No location that could ever be tracked on this narrow stretch of dirt.

Before it was connected to Annwyn and our realms were tied together, this bridge was probably never-ending. Perhaps the first Oreans who ever walked upon it are still in the nowhere, walking.

But despite the way it looks, I can tell the bridge is connected. I can scent it. It's faint, bogged down by the wet brume, but the unmistakable, unforgettable smell of Annwyn is hinted in the air.

My steps are muffled as I stride forward, my pace steady, my determination rigid. The prints of thousands of other boots are crushed into the dirt, evidence of just how many soldiers have crossed through.

For Orea's sake, I hope no more come. If they do, Queen Malina will have to deal with them.

As I walk down the bridge, my magic starts to feel muted. My sleeves are rolled partially up, spikes exposed. Though my black veins are receding little by little, and my skin itches uncomfortably, like something is scraping against me.

I don't dare try to force my power up, just in case. But the feeling of my power being stifled is unnerving.

I ignore it.

I'm not surprised that the bridge does strange things, but I know better than to try to fight it.

Hopefully, Argo will follow my command and go back to Fourth, because I don't want him anywhere near this twisting fog. The bridge is no place for a timberwing. There's no telling what could happen in this voided air should he try to fly through it.

Centuries ago, when Seventh Kingdom tried, the beasts never returned. I'm not willing to risk Argo. And even though the bridge is reconnected now, there's also no telling what I'm going to find on the other side.

So although he was anxious and furious, not wanting to part ways, it's too dangerous for him to come with me. And I promised a very special little girl that I would keep him safe and send him home, so that's what I did.

This journey must be made by me, and me alone.

There are whispers in the fog, but I know better than to stop and listen to them. I know better than to linger.

I keep my mind focused on Auren instead. Thinking of her with every breath I take. My hand delves into my pocket every so often to feel her piece of ribbon, and with every step, our pair bond thrums.

go go go go

I'm coming.

I keep going until there isn't just a hint of Annwyn in the air anymore. Instead, it nearly chokes me. Its scent is nostalgic. Bringing up memories I mostly tried to forget, and yet, I suck it down with gratification in its familiarity.

I'm not sure how much time has passed by the time I finally reach the end of the bridge.

Slowly, the fog lifts away, like fingers gripping the corner of a curtain and pulling it back. My heart pounds as the last of the haze dissipates, and I brace myself for what's to come.

Then, I step off the bridge and into Annwyn.

A place I never thought I'd return to.

My body responds, recognizing the land. Something prickles my fae senses and pumps through my body. I look down, seeing my blackened veins return, spreading down to my wrists, my power no longer feeling like it's being held back.

I take in a breath, and my lungs feel fuller. Like this is the air the fae are supposed to breathe. My gaze disperses, taking everything in, noting the light purple sky. But that's where the beauty stops, because the land I stand in is…

Dead.

That's the only way it can be described. I thought the dirt bridge was drab, but this is different. The ground here looks leeched. Like all the color has been drained and the land has bled out, leaving it nothing but a pale, lifeless corpse.

Clumps of grass are withered and white, the soil equally colorless and parched. There are hills and mountains and a city clustered in the valley near a wide-mouthed riverbed. It should be a land of beauty.

It's not.

Because that mountain, those hills, the city, even the river, it's all dead. Ashen and unnatural. Not a single tree or blade of grass grows. Even the river has run dry. As if it was all scorched and then never recovered. Never came back to life.

Even from here, I can see the city looks empty, the buildings decrepit. There's nobody in the streets, no sign of movement or life. Beneath the sweet scent of Annwyn's air, there's a lifelessness that reverberates up from the ground and hangs down from the clumped, pallid clouds that are stilted in the sky.

This is a different sort of death than my own power, but something just as fatal has taken root here. And by the looks of it, the infection is spreading.

Miles away in the distance, I can see the expected vibrant fields and green forests and impressive mountains. But this disease of the land is encroaching on that lush, colorful beauty. And the death stems from here, right at the entrance of the bridge.

Seventh Kingdom was destroyed when the bridge was first broken. It wiped out the entire kingdom and every living thing that resided there. But it looks like that destruction landed on both sides, because Annwyn seems to have suffered the separation too, with this crawling, growing death.

A death that feels angry. Feels hungry .

Maybe this is why the fae have repaired the bridge and invaded Orea. I never heard about the land dying. It doesn't seem like it's happened recently, either. I can sense how far the death reaches, and something tells me it's been happening for a long time.

My expression hardens. It appears my father broke far more than just the path from Annwyn to Orea. Not that I'm surprised. He enjoys breaking things.

Things and people.

Pulling my grim gaze from the dead city, I try to determine which way to go. Then, something in the distance catches my eye. A column of rising smoke.

"So there is life amidst the death," I murmur.

Different paths branch off, though they're nothing more than simple trails in the ash for me to follow. Taking the one that leads toward the direction of the smoke, I start walking.

The smoke is my guide. I follow it without stopping, and as I get closer, I see its source.

A bonfire in the middle of an army base camp.

There are only a few dozen fae gathered here. Maybe the rest were all sent across the bridge to wreak their havoc.

I'll be wreaking havoc of my own.

The soldiers are eating and drinking around their fire, while others haul supplies from carts to the buildings.

The ashy soil has stuck to my boots from the walk over, littering me with the land's dead grime. But the base camp has obviously been subject to its assault for much longer, because the roughshod buildings are completely covered in it.

Thick layers of the dust coat the wooden buildings, the splay of tents, the supply carts, and the soldiers themselves. The large fire burning at the center of the camp seems to burn duller too, as if it has also gotten clogged up with the loam.

One good thing about it? The ground keeps my steps muffled, choking out the sound as I near. None of the gathered fae around their fire notice me until I stop just beside the wooden building and spook them with my voice.

"I'm looking for someone."

The soldiers snap their heads in my direction, some of them startling so badly they spill their bowls of muck.

"Who are you?" one of them asks, confusion on his face.

I send a rift of rot toward him. A single reaching root that stabs through the ground and then splinters up his body. He jolts, stunned, while black poisoned veins erupt through him.

In a blink, he collapses on the ground, skin browning with rot, and the soldiers around him jerk up in surprise.

"What the fuck?"

One of them aims magic at me. Some sort of blip of light. I don't know what it does. Doesn't matter either, because I kill him before his magic can reach me.

Some of them hurry to grab weapons strewn around haphazardly. "Don't do it," I say in warning, but they move to attack anyway, and I'm about to shove out more magic when something unexpected happens.

Behind the gathered soldiers, a new group suddenly appears. Swiftly and silently, they start to charge.

Though, not at me.

The soldiers are caught completely unaware as the group attacks them.

With a battle cry, the new group pounces, the element of surprise allowing them to cut the soldiers down before half of them even realize what's happening. I watch the slaughter, head cocked as they clash.

The attackers aren't in the same attire as the soldiers. Each of them is dressed in civilian clothing, yet they move with practiced uniformity and obvious combat training.

Swords clash, axes hack, while blood and shouts stream out. Magic bursts from one of the attackers' hands in a cluster of something that resembles teeth. The sharp projectiles hit the marks of the soldiers, digging into eyes, jabbing through jugulars, while around them, their comrades fight savagely.

Within seconds, the skirmish is over, every soldier dead on the ground.

I look around. "I have to admit, I'm impressed."

The group snaps their attention toward me, and I shake my head at the male who starts to move forward, his sword dripping blood. "I wouldn't," I warn.

He has a thick red beard and bushy brows, with a scar at the side of his neck. His assessing gaze flicks over me before moving to the body I rotted. "You're no Stone Sword."

"No, I'm not."

The group gathers closer, only a handful of them, yet what they lack in numbers, they made up for in pure brutality. The fae with the magic hangs his arms loose at his sides, though I can see another one of those clusters gathering in his palm. He takes a step toward me, fingers twitching.

"You try to aim those little teeth at me and I'll rot yours from your mouth and then crush your jaw with my fist."

He goes still, glaring at me with eerie yellow eyes.

The first fae raises his hand, as if telling the others to hold. "Why did you kill one of the Stone Swords?" he asks. Perhaps he's the leader of this little contingent, though there's nothing on his clothes to mark him as such.

"Because they didn't give me the information I asked for."

He exchanges a look with the others. "And what information is that?"

"I'm looking for someone."

"Here?" he says in surprise, motioning around the anemic scenery. "This place is cursed. No one comes here. Except the Stone Swords, but that's a recent development," he says, kicking at the corpse of one of the soldiers.

I arch a brow. "And who are you?"

The group seems to tense all at once, sharing silent exchanges. The leader steps forward, hand still gripping his sword. I watch him and the rest like a hawk, ready to kill in a single blink.

But instead of attacking, he lifts his hand. "This is who we are," he says as he knocks a fist at his own chest. "Do you wear the symbol?"

My gaze drops down to the pin fastened against his tunic. It's no bigger than the pad of my thumb. The circle of metal has a bird in the center, one wing clearly broken.

"We wear the sigil of the Vulmin Dyrūnia."

I frown at the words. They sound familiar. I think I've heard them many years ago.

"The—" My mind snaps with long-forgotten knowledge of the ancient fae language. A language I haven't studied since I was a boy. It creaks in my head like entering a dusty room whose door hasn't been shoved open in decades. Struggling to break open the rusted locks, I shake my head. "Vul—light?" I question.

"Vul min Dyrūnia," he repeats, stressing the suffix of the word. " Dawn . It means dawn's bird."

Something shifts in my chest. Makes me pause.

"And what exactly is that?"

"We are the resistance to the tyranny of the Carricks."

Now I remember. I heard my father mention them before, but they were spoken of like vagabonds. Petty criminals.

"So the Vulmin oppose the invasion that's happening in Orea?"

He looks around his group, some of them whispering tensely, and he rubs a hand down his beard. "So it's true?" he asks. "Carrick mobilized the army, but we didn't know… The bridge?"

"Rebuilt."

He swallows hard. I see another go pale.

"And what are you doing here? You say you're no Stone Sword, and yet, you seem to know quite a lot." His hand tightens on his sword. "How do you know this?"

"Because I came from Orea."

This time, some of them gasp, but his brows fall into a frown, eyes skimming over my spiked arms and pointed ears. "You're no Orean."

"I didn't say I was. Now, either help me find out what I want to know, or move aside. I can promise you, attacking me won't end well for your group."

He pauses, as if weighing his options. I see his eyes drift over to the soldier I rotted through. "Who are you looking for?" he asks.

"Her name is Auren."

The change that overtakes them all is so tangible, so solid, that I wouldn't be surprised if I could reach out and grab it. They rear back, and instant recognition flares in their expressions. It makes every muscle in my body tense.

They know her.

"The Ly?ri Ulvêre?" he asks, his tone sharp, eyes narrowed.

My mind trips over more of that old fae dialect. I try to pick out the roots of their meaning. Lya …was it…shine? Gleaming? No. Wait. It's—

Gold.

"You know her. How?" I demand, my tension mounting.

"All Vulmin knew of her before, and soon, every fae in Annwyn will," he tells me. "She was our golden girl gone who was found…only to be lost to us again."

My stomach twists and my spikes pulse. "What the fuck does that mean?" I seethe out.

When he doesn't immediately answer, rot thrusts up from the ground and starts crawling over everyone else in his group. He whirls, watching them struggle as poisoned death invades their bodies like constricting vines, only these wrap beneath their skin.

In a flash, I'm before him, wrenching him by the collar and forcing him to look at me. "Tell me right fucking now or I will kill you all."

"She is lost to us," he chokes out, scrabbling at my one-handed grip. "King Carrick has her."

My lungs constrict. "Why the fuck would the fae king want her?"

He looks at me like I'm mad. "Why would you ask that?" he spits out, jerking in panic as some of his people start to fall onto the dirt, choking on the rot that begins to fester their organs.

"Tell me!"

His fearful eyes swing back. "The Carricks hate them! They tried to kill her entire line. But she survived somehow. Auren Turley is the last-birthed heir, and she's come back to us to finally unite Annwyn and end the Carricks' reign."

I drop him, and my power jerks back from the group. They cough and sputter, but my ears are drowned out with the clicks of connections that snap into place.

Turley.

I know that name.

My magical and combat training took precedence once my power manifested, but my father still ensured my schooling continued as was appropriate for the son of a noble.

I remember briefly learning about the Turleys. For a handful of centuries or so, they ruled Annwyn. As my tutor taught it, they ruled until abdication, when the favored Carricks took over. The Carricks had political connections and they were stronger and better liked by the people.

My great-grandfather became a rich man when he backed the first Carrick's rule. My father became a famous one when King Tyminnor Carrick called for him to aid in breaking the bridge.

"I thought all the Turleys died a long time ago," I finally say.

"That's just what they wanted everyone to think. To forget them. But when that still didn't work, when the Vulmin still followed them…the Carricks slaughtered them during an attack. We thought their line was ended for good when the golden girl disappeared. Most people believed she was dead. But she came back. They say she fell through the sky."

Fell through my rip.

My emotions battle inside my chest, my heart pumping wildly. Auren is here. I knew it instinctually, but to hear it confirmed fills me with fierce hope.

"But the king has her?" I ask, my excitement cut through with the sharp edges of worry.

He nods. "That's what we heard."

My rot pulses with my spiking panic. If King Carrick has her, and the Carricks hate the Turleys…

"Where does your allegiance lie?" he asks pointedly.

"With her," I answer. "My allegiance lies with her ."

Everyone from the group has gotten back to their feet, though they don't dare move. The fae with the teeth magic keeps the cluster clutched in his fist, but his hand trembles. "Our allegiance is with her too," he tells me, his voice raspy but full of challenge.

"Then I'll let you live," I reply.

Tension and wariness builds between them. "Who is Auren Turley to you?" the leader asks.

Who is she?

She's fucking everything.

"We are a p?yur. So stop fucking wasting my time and tell me where she is," I grit out.

Another ripple of shock goes through the group. "You are fate bonded?" he breathes.

My jaw locks. " Where ?"

He obviously senses my growing impatience, and he's smart enough not to test the limits. "The capital kingdom. It's not far. Two days' walk. One if you're quick."

"Then I suggest you be quick."

His bushy brows lift and he looks around as if at a loss. "We can't take you. We need to see where the Stone Swords have gone."

"There's nothing to see on the other side of that bridge. I killed them. So you're taking me." There's no room for argument.

He blanches. "Who are you?"

"Slade Ravinger."

"Slade…" His eyes dart to the side, as if he's reaching into the corners of his mind, trying to pull out a recollection. "I've heard of a Slade…"

The yellow eyes of the magical fae go wide, and the clump of teeth in his palm falls at his feet. "Wait…Slade Cull . You're The Breaker's son? You're…The Rot ?"

I haven't heard anyone call me that in a very long time.

When I don't contradict his statement, the leader's face goes pale. Everyone in the group seems to lose their breath.

My reply is stabbing, stark and quiet. " Ravinger . Not Cull."

I see him visibly swallow.

"Auren Turley is paired with you ?"

"Yes," I reply, knowing exactly what they're all thinking. How can the fates have bonded her to someone like me?

But there's something they don't understand yet, though I have a feeling they will soon.

There is nothing I won't do for her.

Auren is life. I am death. That is why the goddesses paired us together.

She is the gleaming power of light, and she needed her antithesis to stand at her side. Because she's the golden sun of warmth and growth, while I am decay and darkness, with a magic that comes from the deepest core of the earth.

There is no growth without rot. There is no sun without the dark sky. And there is no me without her.

But even if we were never paired, it wouldn't matter. Because I would have made her mine, whether the goddesses deemed it or not.

And I'm going to find her.

So I turn and start to walk. "Let's go."