Page 222 of Of Empires and Dust
A hole formed in Ella’s chest where her heart had been. “I heard her… I heard her voice.”
Fenryr’s eyes softened, the tension leaving him. “There is so much you do not know, my child. A world you have not seen. I will show it to you, and I will explain everything. But I need you to promise me that you will not attempt to cross back into Níthianelle without my guidance. You were Fragmented, and the tether between your body and soul is weak. It needs time to mend. I need you to have patience. Can you do that?”
Ella wanted to argue, wanted to roar and scream and tell him to go and fuck himself. But she didn’t. This was a god, a true god, formed in flesh and blood before her. And every moment she was around him she was forced to fight the compulsion to kneel.
“Yes.”
Fenryr let out a sigh. “There are those who would twist and chain us, those who would open our throats and drink our blood as it spilled. We must not make it easy for them. Go and rest. Diango, Aneera, Nuada, and Sennik will escort you.”
The three Angan who had followed Ella stood on the far side of the plateau. They were joined by a man with wavy black hair down to his shoulders and a long green cloak. An Aldruid, a Blooddancer. Just like Ella. He had introduced himself the day Ella had awoken, he and four others. All Aldruids – the last Aldruids of Fenryr’s blood. An enormous black wolf lay on the ground beside him. Sennik’s keeper, Balmyras. The creature was larger than even Faenir, with deep golden eyes.
“I don’t need an escort.”
“I will not force them on you if you do not wish. But you are their family, and they worry for you, whether you believe it or not.”
Ella glanced over at the Angan, who now knelt with their heads bowed. Sennik stood with his hands behind his back, his stare fixed on something in the city. His keeper, though, watched Ella intensely, ears pricked.
“Fine.”
Sennik, Balmyras, and the three Angan walked with Ella and Faenir through the streets of Aravell and back towards Alura. They drew more than a few eyes as they went, but Ella was used to it. They were staring at Faenir – and now Balmyras. She, too, would stare if she saw a wolfpine that rivalled a small horse for size.
“How are you feeling?” The words were the first Sennik had spoken to her since their introduction. The silence, though, had mostly been Ella’s doing.
“Bright as a sunflower.” Ella kept her gaze ahead as she spoke, watching two elves wheel a cart full of terracotta vases down the street, smiling at each other like children.
“My favourite colour is blue.”
“What?” Ella shook her head and stared at Sennik.
“There are eighteen of us alive who have Fenryr’s blood in our veins, and two of those are my sisters. I would like to know you, and if you insist on being as abrasive as a whetstone, then it is up to me to bridge the gap. So, my favourite colour is blue. My mother used to dress in blue all the time before she died. I think that’s why. I can’t remember her face, no matter how hard I try. I was only four when the Vethnir hunters took her.”
Ella frowned at the man but eventually yielded. “Mine is purple. My mam used to grow lavender outside our home. The smell always reminds me of her.”
“Lavender, you say? Of course.”
“Why ‘of course’?”
“Lavender is particularly calming to our kind, and it masks our scent. We keep lavender in all the dens around the continent. It makes life difficult for the Vethnir hunters and the Bjorna. It’s not from Epheria, you know? It comes from Terroncia, specially grown by the Woodhearts – a Gift long lost. It blends with the scent of the Fenryr and creates something only our kind can smell. Your mother was a smart woman.”
“That she was. She was many things.”
“Aren’t we all, Ella Bryer. Aren’t we all.”
Chapter 49
Hope Anew
18thDay of the Blood Moon
Ilnaen – Winter, Year 3081 After Doom
The chamberbehind the door was circular in shape, with walls that rose into a domed ceiling plated in gold with The Order’s symbol at its centre. The baldírlight glistened against that gold, illuminating the chamber to its fullest.
A soft blue light radiated from Jotnar runes carved into the ground around a raised stone platform in the middle of the chamber. A skeleton – much too large to be human – rested against the base of that platform, legs folded, arms hanging by its side, tattered clothes draped from fleshless bones. The sight dragged a sorrow-filled sigh from Calen’s lungs. It was Kollna. He knew it as well as he knew the sky was blue and the grass was green.
Calen closed his eyes for a second, clamping his teeth together and clenching his jaw. And as he opened them, his gaze fell on what was perched atop the platform: nine dragon eggs.
Settled dust had muted the sheen of the scales, but the eggs were unmistakable, easily the size of his head, scales overlapping from top to bottom.
