Ashes Unwritten: Oblivion's Heir [Volume 1 Complete!]

Rae watched Claire take off, dagger held awkwardly in hands that were more suited to the delicate curve of a surgical knife. Rae considered following the woman, given that she looked entirely out of her depth, but something else caught her eye on top of the palace walls—Kess, frantically running towards two men standing on the battlements. Niall, she recognized from the garish colors and even brighter blond hair. The other was harder to identify, his hair dark and nondescript along with his clothes, but Rae thought she remembered him from that dark night under the palace—the night everything had changed.

Rae squinted, following Kess. Her vision was exceptional, so she had little cause to doubt it, but she swore she could see…shadows playing around Kess. Eyes still on the girl, Rae thumped Eamon on the back in a friendly manner.

"Got to go," she said. Eamon followed Rae's gaze, paled, and nodded.

Rae ran.

She cursed her lack of speed. With Fulminancy, she would have been up on the battlements already—her powers made everything a quick leap away. Without them, she was forced to climb the hard way. She found the stairs quickly and began the trek up.

She was slow.

Slow and useless. Was this what Rowan felt like? Arlette? Eamon? It was a missing song in her veins—the presence of silence where there should have been sound and life.

Her legs burned, and as she climbed steadily, Rae wondered how much time Kess had left. The woman had more control over her powers than she thought, though it was control born from years of quelling them. Perhaps that tendency would help her keep the shadows at bay, but Rae didn't want to find out. She could share some of that burden with Kess, at least—and maybe take back what was hers along the way.

A rumble shook the palace as something crashed nearby—a house perhaps, torn from its foundations as the Ashfall roared forward. Soon, not even the palace would be safe.

It was insane that a few months ago Rae had wanted Kess dead, and now she risked everything—powers and all—to help her out. Friendship from an enemy always comes with strings attached, Rae thought with a ghost of a smile. And yet, whatever faults Kess had, Rae had watched her for years—she didn't deserve to die, nor did she deserve to be turned into a monster. Rae would shoulder that burden for her instead.

Since Reina's death, Rae had only known survival. That night at the parlor had locked something into her veins—a desperate urge to survive, to be free. Rae had always hoped that survival would culminate in the bloody deaths of those who'd attacked Reina in the first place.

And yet, along the way, she'd forgotten what it was to live. She'd forgotten the joy of Reina's laughter, the taste of good food, the joy of a fierce Drystorm. The world was a swirl of grays and muted colors for Rae, devoid of flavor, texture, and feeling.

She could have had her revenge on the Council, but where did that leave her? She was an animal, reduced to taking the next step. Perhaps the next step was important, but by reaching out to her in that bloody Archives fight, Kess had reminded Rae of something more crucial.

She'd reminded Rae that survival needed to be worth something.

And if Rae could save Kess from that same fate she'd endured for so long—one of endless hard decisions and numbness—she would. She owed her that much, at least.

And yet, though she didn't fear the shadows or the approaching storm, or even death itself, she did fear that ordinary Rae was not enough for this task. There was a girl she'd never even met, buried under years of survival and death—one with no powers, no special abilities. One who was human. And in a city of gods and legends, what good could someone ordinary do?

Rae didn't have an answer, but she climbed anyway, without the song of Fulminancy in her blood, its silence a whisper of promises made without speaking.

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Rowan stood for several agonizing seconds over his father's still form. His sword shook. Screams erupted in his ears, his father's blows, his mother's sobbing. Kess's blank, bruised face when she'd returned with Rae, barely conscious. Her arm, twisted and blackened. Rowan had escaped brokenness, but now those memories came flooding back, breaking him in turn. He's dangerous, Rowan thought. If I leave him alive, he might get us all killed.

He hadn't lied to Kess that night in the Archives—he'd taken up the sword for more practical reasons, but as the years went on and Rowan showed promise with the weapon, he began to see it as a way to separate himself from his father.

He began to see it as his way out.

He practiced doggedly each day, promising himself that if the opportunity presented itself, he would rid the world of his father. He told himself that he was doing it for his mother and brothers, but as he stood there, sword pressed to his father's chest, he realized it was a lie.

Rowan hadn't wanted to kill his father to protect his family.

He'd wanted to kill his father to protect his pride.

I wanted so desperately for him to acknowledge me, Rowan realized. Even if it was only in defeat. I wanted him to realize he'd been beaten by the son he threw away.

And yet, even Rowan's lights—an invention that would have paved a new era for Hillcrest—hadn't been enough for his father. He'd sought a way to discredit and destroy Rowan anyway. Fulminant or not, successful or not, Rowan had always been the same to his father.

Redundant.

Rowan tried to steel himself to do the deed, but his sword was heavy in his hands, the grip slippery and unwieldy. He was no soldier, tempered by war. He was no orphan like Rae, hardened by a lifetime on the streets. He was a man who believed in a fair fight—who believed that people could rise past their darkest moments to become something more. He lowered his sword. His father would never give him the same chance, but Rowan wasn't his father.

Sighing, Rowan sheathed his sword and bound his father's hands, using torn strips from a nearby banner. It was sloppy, but it would have to do.

The building shook, and Rowan steadied himself with a hand on the cracked wall. Just as he was about to turn and leave, a flash of light drew him towards the windows. High above, on the battlements that surrounded the palace, flashes of blue and gray Fulminancy clashed with the darker blue of Kess's Fulminancy. Rowan paled. He sought the stairs.

Mercifully, Rowan found the staircases intact despite the rumbling of the Ashfall and the otherworldly snap of errant Fulminancy as it slammed into the building. He climbed with aching limbs, his leg still searing from his fight with the Blockers two nights ago.

Hurried footsteps sounded nearby, and he paused, searching for their source. All forms of palace security were gone, either herding the hoards of Downhill people, or gone to ground themselves. Still, Rowan was a cautious man. At the next landing, he stepped aside and waited for the group to pass.

"I, for one, do not like this plan," one man muttered. "They expect to stop that thing? At what cost? The Archives storm was one thing, but that one—how many of us will it take?"

"It's better than losing everyone in Hillcrest," another replied. "Those bunkers won't hold. They were designed for something smaller."

"Even with the girl, we won't have enough," a third said as the group climbed. "This pales in comparison to anything we've done before."

"We were given this power specifically to combat those storms," an older man snapped. "Mariel would not leave us to die like this. Keep your minds focused and your mouths shut."

The group finally passed, and Rowan peeked into the stairwell as they did so. Silver and blue sashes. He thought he'd recognized the men's voices. Apparently his father's plan wasn't universally liked by the Council, which Rowan found interesting, if damning. He leaned against the wall for a moment, letting the Councilmen get several stories above him for safety, though he hated the minutes it cost him. Kess could be dying or dead, and here he was—

"Rowan."

His sword was unsheathed and his feet were back into a fighting stance before he knew what was happening. He blinked. Rae stood in front of him, regarding his sword with little fear and a slight amount of disdain.

"You could have warned me," he complained. Rae just rolled her eyes, taking his elbow and dragging him up the stairs.

"I was standing right here," she said as they climbed. Rowan frowned, sheathing his sword. Rae was supposed to be finding Oliver, so why was she here?

"I thought you were—"

"Change of plans," the woman said. "Kess is in trouble." They took the steps two at a time, and Rowan was grateful for his training even as his stomach sunk.

"How bad is it?" Rae didn't look at him as she continued to climb, her small steps somehow managing to leap the same distance as Rowan. She shook her head.

"I don't know, and I don't want to find out. Hurry."