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Panicked, she turned and stumbled over someone’s severed arm before she continued on. She had to find the rest of her family. Or what was left of them. Thoughts blazed through her head like a wildfire on dry grass. Amidst panic and grief, she tried to make sense of her home.

There were no dead soldiers present, of either side.

Why would either army take away each other’s dead but leave the villagers’ corpses?

But who knew why an army did things? Should she try to talk to the other survivors?

Would they be able to help her? No, she couldn’t trust anyone—desperation and grief turned people into monsters.

Best to avoid others until she figured out what to do—and where her parents were.

At least the attackers were gone. Not that it mattered if they killed her. They’d be doing her a favor. She spotted her home past a row of burned dwellings. Her intact home. She had to find her family. She had to know what happened. Whatever it was.

The outside of her home was relatively untouched.

The door was broken off its hinges and the shutters smashed, but it was otherwise intact.

Then again, it would’ve been better if her home had been burned down with the others—then she wouldn’t have to face what waited within.

She stopped on the threshold and steadied her breath.

She could leave. Nothing made her go inside.

She clenched her fists at the same moment a trickle of sweat dripped down her back. No, she had to go in. Otherwise, she’d forever wonder what happened.

Trembling, Nerys stepped into her dark home, her eyes quickly adjusting. She took one step and then another, scanning the familiar furniture, now smashed and overturned.

She didn’t have to go far to find her father. He laid face down on the floor in the entryway, the family sword still in his hand .

She blinked slowly—and moved on.

Nerys found her mother upstairs in their parents’ bedroom, strewn about like a tossed doll.

What they did to her mother’s body…

Nerys shook. And then screamed and banged on the wall, not caring what it did to her hands.

She should have been here! She should have been with them. So close. They were so close to avoiding this, to getting far away before this happened.

She failed them.

Exhausted, she fell onto the floor, gripped her hair with her bloody hands, and rocked herself back and forth, her knees digging into the boards.

She failed. She failed. She was supposed to get them out of here before… this .

Adilette…

Adilette…

And now there was nothing she could do. But she had to do something . Like she was watching from outside her body, she moved. She found sheets and first covered her mother’s body, and then her father’s.

Nerys then drifted to her and Adilette’s bedroom, a pristine space in an otherwise ravaged home.

Here, she could pretend that nothing happened.

This was a dream. And the only way to end dreams was to wake.

Nerys climbed into their bed and hugged her sister’s pillow to her face, taking in her familiar scent, and let darkness overcome her once more.

It was night when Nerys woke. The village was silent other than sporadic wails, which intruded into her home along with the rank odor of smoke and death. No, she didn’t dream her nightmare. Not that it mattered—both awakening and dreaming were filled with blood, and Nerys was never going to escape.

Now she had to decide what to do in this bloody world.

She was alive, her family was not, and that wasn’t going to change.

As tempting as it was, Adilette would never forgive her if she gave up now, gave into the grief until her corpse joined the hundreds of others.

Nerys picked at the threads on her quilt and realized she had few options, and none of them were appealing .

The first option was to wait in the village, join the other survivors, and hope that assistance arrived.

But then Nerys would be living in a city of decomposing corpses, which had already begun to turn rancid from a day in the sun.

Besides, there was no guarantee that the next visitors to Raven’s Crest would be friendly.

War attracted more than one type of scavenger.

8 That was assuming the people already in the village wouldn’t hurt her.

Nerys pushed herself off the bed, lit a candle, and found her traveling clothes.

She’d leave Raven’s Crest tonight. Staying here could mean her death—the forest was safer.

Alone was better than with those she couldn’t trust. As much as she despised hunting, her father had taught her how to hunt, clean animals, and fend for herself.

The surviving villagers seemed to be behaving for now, but how long until that changed?

She had seen none of her close friends among the survivors, and desperation was a horrible time for a lone woman to gamble on trust.

As she changed her soiled clothing and gathered some necessities together, including what little money her family had, she tried to think. She was going to leave. Now...where to go?

Thanks to a sweating sickness epidemic, old age, and a few unfortunate accidents, Nerys had no living family or friends.

9 The nearest village to Raven’s Crest was called Scarlet Briar, and was only a few miles away downriver.

Logistically, going there made the most sense.

She could keep to the woods and watch for signs that that village wasn’t also ransacked.

There was a chance someone at that village would help her, maybe offer her work in exchange for shelter.

She had a little money, not enough to start over, but maybe enough to get her away from here.

However, Nerys’s mind kept returning to the fact that the enemy had slaughtered the village when the village had soldiers stationed in it, and even more outside. This shouldn’t have happened. The reason part of the army had been there was to make sure that this very thing didn’t happen.

Something was off. Her father still had his sword—an enemy soldier would’ve looted it.

Also, there were no soldiers among the dead.

Then again, the attackers were likely a small company from the enemy kingdom, Cerdoran.

She didn’t know how long she was unconscious.

Ca’mail’s soldiers could’ve left the village as planned and the enemy could have swept in as she had feared.

Cefin…

With the soldiers gone, this meant that the one who betrayed her was likely safe, drunk, and passed out in his tent.

Regardless of what had happened in the village, the bastard Cefin was likely on his way to rejoin Ca’mail’s main army.

No matter what had happened, there was only one person to blame for the result—Cefin.

If she had been home during the attack, she could have at least helped her family hide in the woods.

At least there would have been a chance—

And Cefin took that away.

Her skin prickled like she had walked into frigid air, a path set before her. Now she had a plan, something with which to rescue the shambles of her life. She was going to find the main army and Cefin—and kill him.

Revenge.

Nerys smiled.

Cefin deserved all the pain she could give. What did she care that it meant certain death? She was dead already. 10

She had a plan—now to see it through. She packed an extra dress and a cloak in a knapsack and found one of her father’s hunting knives and tied it around her waist. The sword would’ve been more practical for defense, but she didn’t know how to use it, and it would probably just make her a target for theft.

The last thing she did before leaving her home’s upper story for the last time was pause at the top of the stairs and wish that her family’s souls would find peace in the Underworld. 11

Well, not the last thing—she went back to her bedroom, opened her dresser drawer, and picked up a clouded crystal figurine, which was the size of a peach pit and carved into the shape of a rosebud. A family heirloom. She then moved to her house’s lower level, her focus once more on survival.

She needed supplies—hunger would return.

Someday. She went to the kitchen and filled her pack with hard cow’s cheese, old rye bread, dried berries, and a water skin.

Moving mindlessly, she found a jug of wine, and parched, she drank more than was sensible.

She wanted water—and a clear head—but neither was an option.

There was no water in the house and she’d have to fill the skin at the river, since the attackers might have poisoned the village well.

Supplies packed, she then walked to the front door and stopped. There was nothing left for her here. It was time to go.

Her head light from the wine, she whispered a blessing over her father’s covered corpse before stepping outside, where she was greeted by the full moon’s light.