The siren swam upward, gaze fixed on the ship hull ploughing through the ocean surface. No sunlight pierced the waves. No fish followed the stern. All had escaped the storm. All save the ship.
Alessia smiled as she imagined the frantic sailors struggling to fight nature’s fury. Struggling and failing. “Drag them down.
Dr. Jacob Martin stood on the prow of The Cloudscuttler, leaning on the rigging and watching the thick stratocumulus clouds pass under the ship’s hull. The fog rolled away in every direction like folded sails, broken only by the occasional towering formation.
Yes. This is where he was meant to be.
Den sloshed through the streets of the City With No Name. Overhead, a sagging wire sparked as it trembled in the rancid wind. There’d be another fire soon. He should probably call some Smokers out to take care of it. Instead, he turned down an alley.
Where is he?
Dusk coated the outback
“Do you know what color fae blood is?
Green, my son, naught but green—
So go now forth and slay their queen.
But beware, for she seeks her mate,
And only death can stop this fate.
For if she steals one of your kin,
Take her life to give the changeling back his.”
Noah perked up as the call came through. Another nighttime commotion at the old, abandoned fairground.
“Dispatch, I’m at that end of town, I’ll check it out.”
Noah turned at the junction, towards the site.
On the outskirts of the small town, it was a relic of its heyday, bankrupted by the advent
Pounding footsteps shook the forest and knocked fiery, autumn leaves from the trees. Gemma pressed against the nearest trunk, the bark’s ridges digging into her bare arms. We found the stone golem.
“Fiske, Korth, you ambush him from the other side.” Uncle Roan spoke just loud enough for her to hear.
Maize ran her fingers along the fresh scars trailing her arm as she stared at the king’s latest request. The white suit lay draped across her red-wood weaving desk. Make this suit so that its wearer is immortal, the king’s messenger had told her. Then, perhaps, will you be forgiven.
Strands of afternoon
“Scarlet!”
I wince.
“Yes, ma’am?” I turn and bow to our loud neighbor.
“Are you going to drag your grandfather home?”
I bristle at her tone. He may drink too much, but only to forget his memories of the war. Everyone understands… except Lenora Cutter. She never has grace for anyone, not even
The domed turrets of the Little Palace blazed a fierce rose-red. The color of magic. The color of a curse.
Mariya had to get there.
But a line of Rusakian soldiers blocked her road, their blood-red shields reminding her of all the lives lost during their occupation of her city.
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The carriage arrived late in the afternoon, but Sebastian didn’t get out right away. He peered through the frosted glass at the house, its cobblestone siding glowing in the sunset. Candles flickered in the snow laden windows like watchful eyes.
Sebastian glanced at the paper on the bench beside him. The dreaded “yellow slip”
The wind howling across Haiz’s brown, leather wings could not drown out his roar as he sliced through the air back toward his cave. His voice bounced from valley, to village, and on toward the mountains, declaring his sovereignty over all things within his territory.
His scaled eyes scanned the ground below, searching.
Ivan never expected his future to rely on a honeybee.
Just one more challenge. He clenched his fists as he stood before the golden door on the Ukran palace’s upper floor. If he succeeded, he’d free the imprisoned Tsarina Mischa as well as her subjects, who had all been cursed a week ago
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