Page 67 of A Touch of Stars and Stones (Kirrian #1)

“His mark? What does that mean? The brooch?” Kalan is Lyle’s friend. Capella made it sound like the brooches were only for Naturals. And if he gave his to me, what did that mean? Why did he give me something so precious?

“I can’t signal to my brothers. Only when she reigns do we wake and protect. They won’t hesitate like I have. You won’t have time to reason and explain your intentions. They will come.”

What? What did it mean? “Guys?” They don’t answer, so I direct my voice back at the creature. “I’m sorry for waking you. I didn’t know. Tell me how to send you back. To let you rest.”

“You must kill me, Fifth. Kill me and let me sleep.” His voice doesn’t possess the same ill will that I heard before.

“I can’t kill you, I don’t?—”

“You have all, Fifth. You do not need a made weapon. For you are a weapon yourself.”

Yes, yes, you can… That voice on the wind is not helping.

The Jarkoreth’s head rises, the short tendons of its neck exposed, half knitted together with cinereal flesh.

The offering couldn’t be mistaken for anything but a surrender.

I think about Ten’s blade, carried behind his back at all times.

How the sharp edge had drawn blood when I used it against Crimson, and how it would easily make the killing strike here.

But I didn’t have a blade.

“Ever, you need to do something,” Ravi shouts from the side, but it earns him a glare from the Jarkoreth, and I watch as Ravi shrinks backwards.

The forest erupts with a howl that rings so long and so deep that it seems to sing to the stone buried deep beneath us, making it shake in fear, too.

My hands clamp over my ears, and I crouch down, instinctively wanting to get low, but then I see the maggots and writhing dead things littered around us and jump right back up.

I want to run.

I want to run and not look back.

It was the Jarkoreth that made that sound, that awful, terror-inducing sound.

“They are coming for you, Fifth. The forest can hear. The forest knows,” it speaks in that low, deep vibration that only adds to the fear of the words.

They mean to harm, harm, only harm… The forest chants .

“Who?” I ask and look around at the rest of our team, all of whom look as startled by the noise as I feel.

“My guess is Ascella and Crimson. They would be the only ones to get here this fast. Or they’re gifting their speed, too, so worst case, all of them.” Ravi leaves out the ‘I warned you’, comment.

We’re still in the camouflaged area, hidden by the foliage that shields us, but I don’t know how far our little ‘raising the dead’ trick travelled. We have the physical screen behind us, but after the trees, all they’ll see is a whole bunch of death.

“What do we do? I can’t fight them.”

“We have to. This is a Warrior trial,” Capella states, closing the distance between us. “We can hide, ambush them.” She gestures between me, her, and Micah.

“No. I won’t leave Ravi and Raiden in the open. Ravi, want to make it rain? Maybe slow them down?” I ask.

He shrugs, and I roll my eyes at how much he’s not helping. He looks towards the Jarkoreth, and I step back a pace or two before we connect our hands.

Faint rain starts to fall, dampening the air around us, and then, as I squeeze his hand, a deluge unleashes, along with that prickly sensation of power travelling up my arm.

“Try maintaining it when you let go. Project your power,” Capella encourages.

“You’ve already done it, so believe in yourself.

” I don’t have time to argue with her or thank her for the boost of confidence.

I grasp for all my control and all the power that is locked away in that body of water, and I wrap my will around Ravi’s, feel for his connection, his strand of power, and I hold it in my mind.

My hand lets his go, a fraction, then another, and the rain still hammers us, drenching us through.

“Oh, my stars, you did it.” He sounds shocked, and I try to brush off the surprise and doubt he must have in me, regardless of the dead creature among us.

“Well done! That’s amazing, Ever!” Capella didn’t bat an eyelid at the death graveyard she helped me create, and now this. A well of power ripples with the warmth of praise from a friend.

But nothing we can do is enough because we can hear voices now. Footsteps.

We all bunch together, looking around for the attack as the footsteps grow louder. For a second, I think about grabbing Micah and Capella and hiding us or projecting our invisibility over everyone. But what about the… Where is the Jarkoreth? He’s… gone.

Ascella and Crimson step out around the tree that formed the last physical block to our position. No sign of Ten and Azur, but Calix is with them, and while we might say we were friends, I can’t count on him to defend me against his sister.

Three against five weren’t such bad odds. It could be worse, I force a positive spin in my mind.

“We could race past you and win. Some defence.” Crimson looks around and scoffs, but her eyes snag on what’s at our feet. The death and decay, rotting animals, and insects still writhing on the ground where we’d left them in a half-resurrected state. “What in Aslendrix?”

“See, I told you. You’re death. That’s what you are.

Nothing but a bad omen. A curse. And you’re going to curse all of us.

You think I’ll let you play out your little games and infiltrate us, one by one.

You think I don’t see what you’ve already done to Crimson?

To Ten.” Ascella’s rage is all I hear. Her harsh, bitter words are tainted and darkened by the image I saw and felt when we connected—her death.

“Ascella, please. I’m not death. You’re wrong. And I promise, I don’t want to hurt you. You saw a possible future. Maybe.” I try to talk her down, wishing that my words didn’t shudder with doubt as the rain still falls, running over our skin and turning the already bog-like ground into a cesspool.

“Well, this is a Warrior trial, and I say I don’t give you the chance.” She lunges forward, drawing her blade from nowhere. Her body’s a blur, using her speed to attack, but she’s not fast enough.

Three grotesque claws reach for her first, swinging down from the tree at the side, slicing up Ascella’s ribs. Her scream cleaves the air, but the Jarkoreth doesn’t stop. It falls from its position in the tree next to her, its decomposing body dropping and smothering her.

“No. Stop. Please.” I step forward, begging the Jarkoreth to stop because I know somewhere inside of me that it’s protecting me—it did this for me.

Its head snaps up and pulls away, heaving the body with the one working arm, leaving Ascella in a bloody mess on the ground.

Oh, shit. “Somebody help us!” I shout.

“Ascella!” Raiden’s scream pierces through the forest as she races for Ascella, Capella close behind her, Calix too. Crimson’s turned white as she stands looking over the gory scene.

We need a healer. Perrin. “Perrin!” I scream. There would be healers, they said. Nobody would be hurt. This was a game. Training.

My mind starts to unravel.

“Urghhh!” Crimson charges for me, but Micah steps in, his hands shoving to the ground. I push my energy out, thinking about boosting his specific thread of energy with mine, and the small tremor multiplies, growing stronger, enough to knock Crimson off course and towards the Jarkoreth.

It snaps its jaws at her, and she pulls her blade, aiming for the monster.

“No!” I leap and raise my hand to protect the Jarkoreth and clinch Crimson’s wrist. All her power and speed channel into me, and I know, without even trying, I’m draining her, not just of her speed and her magic, but of everything.

The well that I draw my power from isn’t there anymore. It’s a raging cascade, a storm, a wild and unruly thing that wants to lash out and fight back, feed off her, freezing her to the spot and eliminating any sort of attack.

She struggles in my grip until the knife drops to the ground, and that small distraction is enough for me to let go, loosening my hold over her.

I look at Calix, who’s approached with stealth, and he catches her as she slumps towards him, all her power drained by me.

Into me.

An eerie quiet surrounds us as if the whole forest is waiting. In my gut, I know what it’s waiting for.

I pick up her knife and step towards the Jarkoreth. “I don’t want to do this. I want you to ask me again, to be sure.” My eyes squint in the rain, but I look at the creature.

“Let me sleeeeppp…” Its hideous mouth speaks, and the air rolls with the voice I’ll never be able to forget.

I close my eyes and arc my arm, slicing the blade over the jugular it raises towards me, giving me an easy kill. It slumps to the ground, the massive hunch of its back sinking as the final breath of air leaves its body.

Sleep. Be at rest. I push the words out towards it, hoping the forest might hear them, too.

As the creature dies, I take a deep breath and let out a scream, ripping through the canopy that surrounds us, cathartic and draining. With the last note ringing in the air, the rain stops, and the death that was at our feet begins to seep back to where it came from.

Before I interfered.

“Perrin!” Raiden shouts. “Perrin!” Panic grips her voice.

Suddenly, people crowd the small area where we are. Not trainees. Custodians, other members of The Chamber. Were they watching us?

“What’s going on?” Micah asks, and I move towards him.

“The trial is halted,” Kamari answers, stepping towards me.

“Halted?” Calix asks. “Why?”

“You need more of a reason?” She looks around at what’s taken place before levelling her stare at me. “Take her away.”

“Me, what? Why? Calix, Micah!” I argue as three guards dressed in Warrior black approach, but they don’t grab me.

There is no calm inside of me. There is no still lake to draw from, only choppy waves and racing water.

Everything inside of me wants to push back and raze them to the ground, but Ascella is still on the floor, surrounded by blood.

The body of the Jarkoreth still lingers, rotting back into the earth, and it seems like whatever magic raised it, is dead now, too.

Maybe this is a nightmare, and I’m going to wake up soon. But my hand squeezes the hilt of the knife still in my hand.

Maybe I should be locked up.

I drop Crimson’s knife. This is all real.

“Micah, explain to Ten. Tell him what happened.”

I turn, ready to go with the officers, but a hard strike to the back of my head has me dazed.

Everything goes black.

When I come too, I’m not in the Variscite Forest. I’m in a dark chamber, and solid stone surrounds me on three sides.

The last one is decorated with inch-thick bars running from the uneven ceiling to the grimy floor.

The bed I’ve been asleep on is in better condition than mine back home, at least, and the only item not revealing where I am.

A cell.

My eyes adjust to the light, and my memory starts to flit back, along with a throbbing at the back of my head.

The trial.

The Jarkoreth.

Ascella.

But noises, footsteps—racing about, alarmed voices, all break the playback reel.

“Ever?” A light, sing-song voice that can only be Kyra sounds from the shadows beyond the bars.

“Kyra?”

“Oh, thank the Goddess, blessed may she ever be.”

“What’s going on? Why are you down here? Why am I here?”

“I wanted to find you. It’s been hours since you were taken down here. The Court is a buzz with it. There’s never been a trial halted before.”

“Has there ever been a trial where one of the trainees brought the dead back to life, and one of the monsters attacked another trainee?” I ask her, but immediately realise I sound too harsh.

She shrinks back a fraction.

“You didn’t do it alone, Ever.”

Has someone told her what happened? “I appreciate that, Kyra. But why are you here? Won’t you be in trouble? You can’t risk that for me.”

“We’re under attack.”

“What?” My heart is in my mouth. “You didn’t think that was the most important part to lead with?”

“There’s no need to worry. The Warriors have it handled. The Court is going through the drill. It’s a little skirmish, really.” It doesn’t sound right, her describing fighting in her light and joyful tone.

“What about the others? Are they okay?”

“Ten,” she gives me a pointed look that even I can see in the gloom, “is fine, but confined to the residence. All the other trainees, too, apart from Calix and Crimson, who are with the other Warriors.”

“Fighting?” I question.

“Yes. That’s what they do.”

“But we’re training. They aren’t part of the army or whatever protection The Court has.”

“They’re Warriors. They’ll fight. All of them will.” As if that’s explanation enough.

“Ascella? Is she… alive?” Please say yes. Please say yes.

“Yes, she’ll be fine. She’s recovering in the medical wing. I have to go, but I didn’t want you to worry. You’ll be safe here.” She smiles as if telling me any of this is just another part of any other day.

She races off, the candle flickering on the stone wall as she passes.

And I’m left to listen to the sound of people running overhead and hope that she’s right.