Page 6 of Winds of Darkness

“I swear to you, I will be your end.”

“We shall see, my Ash Rider.”

“I am not your Ash Rider, Moranna, but I will your end.”

And with that, he stepped through the archway, breathing in the sea air before everything went black.

Chapter 1

They had gotten smarter since the last time he had visited the islands. The last time he was here, nearly four decades ago, the guards outside the cliff’s entrance had a fire burning to ward off the night chill from the sea. Rayner had appeared among the smoke and had all five of them lying in pools of blood before they had realized what had happened.

This time he’d had to move among the thick vegetation. He’d assumed they wouldn’t make that mistake again, and when he returned this time, he’d come in on merchant ships. It had been two weeks at sea departing from the Water Court. He could have traveled among ashes, but he knew better than to underestimate Moranna, even after all these years.

But she would always wait for him to come to her.

After coming to the islands every few years when he’d finally regained his lost memories, he’d purposefully waited decades this round. He let them relax, lulled them into a false sense of safety. But he’d been just as busy on the continent. It had happened by chance the first time. He’d recognized an overseer in a market in the Shifter territory. A good hour in an abandoned building and a few calculated stab wounds had the male telling Rayner all he needed to know. Moranna’s superiors were moving people out because of the destruction he was causing. Many of the guards and overseers had been spread to various positions throughout thecontinent. The male hadn’t known what exactly everyone was doing, but some had been assigned as spies in various territories. He had been one of those spies. The male had eventually died of suffocation.

From smoke inhalation.

And Rayner had found himself with a new purpose while planning his missions to the Southern Islands. He’d promised he would kill every single one of the people who had helped to keep the innocent people trapped in the cliffs, and he had suddenly found his hunting grounds expanded. He knew he’d become a rumor, a being as mythical as the Oracle. But people did not refer to him as the Ash Rider. No, he was whispered about as The Reaper, as if saying the name too loudly would summon him.

The last time he’d come to the Southern Islands, he’d nearly been caught. Arrows with shirastone tips. It didn’t stop his gifts, but they still hurt like hell when lodged in one’s kidney and caused sloppy movements. He’d managed to get a group of twenty-five out, half of them children. It was the most he’d ever moved out at one time. When he’d left, he’d estimated there were still at least two hundred innocents left in the colony, but that number would be higher now. Lots of younglings could be born in forty years, and he would guess the Baroness was a little moretolerantof those with lower power levels, considering her dwindling pool of subjects.

It was helping, he supposed, in one way. She allowed more to live, thus keeping them safe until he could come back for them. Although, safe probably wasn’t the best word to use. It kept them alive, which was better than dead … for most of them.

Despite that upside, there was the issue that Moranna had moved her most prized and most powerful. They were kept locked away and hidden, and he knew that would include Aravis if she was still alive. He’d had yet to figure out where exactly Moranna had stowed them away though. Which is why he had waited all these years. He wanted the sentries to have their guard down. He had no intention of making his presence known this time. There was only one Fae he had his sights set on for this visit.

The Captain of the Marshals.

Fortunately for the guards outside the cliffs, that meant they would get to keep their lives this visit if all went according to plan. He crept from the thick expanse of trees and plants, smoke drifting from a small torch he kept smoldering. He was several hundred feet away from the entrance into the city beneath the cliffs. It was the only place a person could walk in and out, the brand that was given beneath their skin when they were born their key to enter. He lifted a hand, ashes pouring from his palm and seeking the wards surrounding the place. He’d once thought he could only move among existing smoke and ashes. It wasn’t until he had remembered his training from this cursed place that he learned he could create his own. It drained his reserves far too fast to do it regularly though.

But he’d learned even more about his gifts since his time spent inside the cliff walls. Things he had been more than happy to share with those who kept the innocents trapped here like slaves. Like how he could control which parts of him shifted to ash. How he could send those ashes into a body, wrap them around hearts or lungs or bones.

Ashes swirled halfway up the cliff side, and Rayner’s lips kicked up in a wicked grin. One of her failsafes. Moranna always left one small weak spot in her wards to make her own escape if necessary. She’d gotten clever with them since he’d left, but not clever enough. In the next breath, he was hovering above the ground in his ashes. The next blink, he was inside.

He immediately disappeared among the smoke of the sconces lining the wall. Nothing had changed. Everything was still pristine and white, spelled to always look that way. She still made Fae clean every day, saying they needed to earn their keep, as if being bred like prized livestock wasn’t enough.

Rage coursed through his veins at the thought, the monster she’d created lifting its head. His ashes trembled beneath his skin, as hungry for violence as he was. He breathed deep, the scent of smoke and fire filling his senses, fueling the surging anticipation inside.

Staying hidden, he flitted among the braziers, taking in everything happening. With the ward breech halfway up, he was on the mid-levels. Everything was quiet, Fae hurrying along when they passed, eyes fixed to the floor. The white clothing everyone was issued blended in with the walls, the floor, everything. The only color in the place had been Moranna in her bright red attire.

Until he’d returned and added a little color of his own with blood splatters on the walls and pools of it on the floor, corpses left in his wake. He’d glimpsed Moranna once in all the times he’d come back to these cursed cliffs. She’d appeared on the highest level the third time he’d come back, staring down at him, a faint smile on her red painted lips. He’d only been a few levels below her, so he’d heard the words when she’d said, “Welcome home, my Ash Rider.”

By the time he’d moved through the smoke to reach her, she’d disappeared. He’d had to choose between going after her or getting the group of Fae he’d already gathered out. If he went after Moranna, those Fae were surely dead, so he’d left her for another time.

He maneuvered up through the levels. Feris had been housed on the same level his own rooms had been on when Rayner had resided here. It would be easy enough to see if that was still the case. He was nearing the top when a scream made him stop mid-leap between ashes. Smoke swirled when he stepped from it, his boots silent on the pristine floor. Calculating what level he was on, he realized this was either on a floor of producing rooms or a level where some of the more powerful used to be housed.

Keeping to the walls to avoid being seen along the railings, Rayner moved quickly, straining to pick up any other sounds. The walls were thick rock, and the doors were solid wood. To be heard through them, the scream had to have been roaring. He sent his ashes from his palm as he went, seeping under the cracks of the doors and seeking any sign of sentience. His ashes, usually associated with death, always reacted differently to life. They would vibrate, strain to get closer; whether curious or seeking to destroy,he was never quite sure. But when they trembled and pulled him closer to one of the last rooms, he knew they’d found something.

Pulling them back into himself, Rayner pushed the door open, feeling the wards crackle over his skin. Just as shirastone did not affect him, he was able to pass through most wards without issue. But when he stepped across the threshold, he stilled, taking in the scene before him. This was a producing room all right, but this was not one of Moranna’s assignments.

This was sentries and overseers taking what they wanted.

His lip curled back, his ashes vibrating beneath his skin for an entirely different reason now. But he still didn’t move. Because one overseer, the one closest to the female, was on the ground.

An arrow shoved into his eye.

Where the arrow had come from, Rayner didn’t know. There was no bow in sight and no other arrows. Just the one protruding from the man’s face.