Page 203

“Don’t say it,” he whispered—begged.

I had to. “My mouth has been bleeding. It was doing it just a bit ago when you left to get me clothing.” When he started to look away, I stopped him, keeping his eyes on mine. “And I no longer feel the embers in my chest, Ash. I feel them everywhere. In my blood. My bones. My skin.”

A shudder rocked him, and then I was in his arms, held tightly to his chest. He didn’t speak as I felt his heart pounding. He didn’t need to because he knew.

My Ascension had fully begun. And I was right. We didn’t have much time.

We likely didn’t even have a day.

The end was upon me—us.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

The knowledge of what was to come followed as Ash and I shadowstepped into the Bonelands.

I knew the moment we arrived. The humidity and sweet scent of the cavern disappeared, replaced by a cooler breeze that reminded me of spring in Lasania.

Ash’s arms didn’t loosen from around me as I lifted my head. The mist started to dissipate around us as the chatter of birds faded, revealing green—lots of lush green foliage. I saw low, ground-hugging evergreens, bushes that bloomed with pale flowers, and trees with vine-covered trunks and sweeping limbs heavy with broad leaves.

“Huh,” I murmured, holding the Star diamond in my right hand.

Ash drew up a hand, his fingers tangling in my wet hair. “What?”

“I’m kind of confused.” I looked to my right, seeing more of the same. “For a place called the Bonelands, I expected to see a bunch of bones.”

“Look down, liessa.”

My gaze darted back to him, my eyes widening. Part of me wasn’t sure I wanted to, but curiosity always, always won out.

The corners of my lips pulled down. “All I see is dirt and grass.”

“If we stood in this exact spot at the end of the Ancients’ time, we’d be standing upon the remains of those who fell to them in battle,” he said. “And those bones are still here, only retaken by the lands over the millennia. Nearly everything east of the Skotos to the Cove has grown from the remains of those who perished.”

My upper lip curled as I resisted the urge to hop into Ash’s arms. I’d seen a lot of gross things. Did quite a bit of them myself. But I somehow found this far more disturbing. “Knowing we’re basically standing on the graves of the gods only know how many skeletons kind of freaks me out. And it feels a little disrespectful.”

“The draken would agree with you.” His fingers trailed through my hair. “They see the Bonelands as sacred.”

I’d heard that. I tilted my head back. Stippled sunlight glanced over the curve of Ash’s cheek and jaw. “What exactly caused the war with the Ancients?”

“One thing.” His gaze drifted over my face. “And yet many things.”

“That’s a helpful answer.”

A faint grin appeared. “The Ancients never felt things like mortals do, or even the Primals of my father’s age before the first of them fell in love. They just were not…created that way,” he said, sliding his hand from my hair to my chin. “But that didn’t mean they were apathetic to the needs of their children or the mortals who eventually populated the lands west of Iliseeum. They were full of empathy…until they weren’t.”

“What caused that to change?”

“The same things that happen to any being who sees too much time pass.” His thumb glided over my lower lip. “They lost their connection to those who came from their flesh and the mortals, seeing less and less of what made those who inhabited the realms beautiful over time. My father said they began to see anything not created by them as parasitic. The changes mortals made in their realm didn’t help. The Ancients were particularly displeased with the disruption of land in the name of advancement. Too many forests were cut down, replaced by farms and manors. Roads replaced soil. Cities were built upon meadows. When they looked at the mortal realm, they only saw death.”

“Really?” I drew out the word.

Ash nodded. “My father said the Ancients were not only able to see but could also connect to the souls of every living creation. That included higher forms of life such as you and me, but also animals and plant life.”

Creases formed between my brows. “Plants have souls?”

“That is what my father said the Ancients claimed.”

“So, I take it that neither you nor the older Primals can see such a thing?”