Page 14

Maya is not among them.

“This’d be what they’ll take from us then,” Mavah says from her side.

“What?”

“Ourselves,” Mavah answers.

The food is set before them and it is better than any meal Dawsyn has ever managed for herself. Most of the dishes she has never seen. Steamed fish and roasted meats along with seasoned bread sit on silver plates. Root vegetables bubble and stew in great batches. Quickly, she spoons the stew into her bowl and grabs handfuls of bread. She wolfs down the tender meats, all while eyeing the dormant bodies of those across the way, who barely blink. No light adorns their eyes, save that of the pool’s reflection. They do not speak, grimace, yawn, or even twitch. If it wasn’t for their ability to sit, Dawsyn would think them corpses.

There is a young girl among them, perhaps ten years old, who Dawsyn recognizes. Grace is her name. Dawsyn remembers her selection, more than ten years ago, yet the girl hasn’t aged a day. Changed… but not.

“They look a sight better’n my poor excuse for a husband,” Mavah says quietly, her eyes calculating as much as Dawsyn’s.

“That is what we will be,” Dawsyn deduces, her frown deepening. “Whatever it is that they do, it will empty us.”

“Aye.” Mavah nods. “So, I’ll not be lettin’ that happen. I’d sooner throw meself atop their teeth.”

Dawsyn looks down at what will be her last meal. There will be no thinking or forcing her way out of this corner. Even if she could, where would she go? “I’ll follow soon after.”

The King of Glacia takes to his stage once more as the bowls and platters empty. The rumble of voices softens and then dies and each Glacian turns expectantly to him.

His voice rings out. “Bring them to the Pool of Iskra.”

Iskra. Dawsyn balks at that word again, both known and unknown to her.

Several Glacians usher Dawsyn, Mavah, Deidre, and Justin out of their seats. The cold, meaty hands weigh down on their injured shoulders. Dawsyn’s stomach hollows and she feels the fine meal she ingested rise again.

They are halted before the shining pool, filled with both water and air and neither.

Suddenly, horribly, Ryon appears from behind. Over his shoulders, he carries the bodies of both Lester and Carl. Without stopping, the hybrid Glacian passes through them all and goes to the edge of the pool. Without preamble, he tosses his burdens in.

Astonished, Dawsyn watches as the substance within reacts. It physically parts at the promise of falling prey, moving, as though sentient. It swiftly folds over the bodies, enveloping them, like the mouth of a snake widening to consume its catch. The pool is suddenly alight. The brightness burns her eyes as it sweeps the room and then it is gone, the pool restored to its former glistening glow.

Lester’s body bobs to the surface first and then Carl’s. They are quickly snagged by waiting Glacians, who haul them out and discard them.

“Still a little spark left in them then,” the King calls. “Though there would be more if it weren’t for that wretched temper of yours, Tithe.” The King tsks and wags a finger at a Glacian to his left, who smirks, teeth glinting.

“Now, humans, let us not delay further. This lot gets rowdier by the moment if they do not get their dessert.”

The room rumbles with appreciative laughter.

“Jump into the Pool of Iskra and be granted the gift of immortal life,” he says, gesturing to the cursed humans, still sitting obediently upon their seats. “The magic within will stop you from aging. You’ll never know another day of suffering, or pain. You’ll live for as long as you can avoid physical harm.”

A frustrated scoff from Mavah. “And live as a shell? A ghost?”

“Better than a life of misery,” the King rebuts. “Better than death. But if you’d prefer it, we can always throw your lame corpse in after we slit your throat.”

Dawsyn’s mind races.The substance in the pool, does it take away one’s soul? Their mind?

“Iskra,” the Glacian King continues, “is a small price to pay for eternal peace.”

“Iskra,” Dawsyn whispers to herself, her thoughts fumbling.

“There is, however, one alternate course,” the King rumbles. “Though, it has been many years since any human was fool enough to choose it.” He looks, smirking to the long tables, as though sharing a private joke. “You could take your chances on the slopes. We’d even give you a head start before we came to hunt you down.”

Glacian eyes gleam at his words. The corners of their lips curl.

“Be warned though. Not one human has ever managed to reach the bottom of this mountain. And there is no telling what would happen to you once you became a Glacian’s trophy.”