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

Rowan's home loomed from the carriage windows, its blocky form imposing even through thick sheets of rain. Wind buffeted the carriage, slamming against it like a wild animal, and Rowan was grateful for the sheltered cabin that kept their driver safe. The horses were a surly, solid, and determined breed, and he'd paid extra for the armor which adorned their sides. He wouldn't risk the lives of men or horses so that he could attend a ball, even if it was an important one. Other Uphill citizens didn't share his concerns, as he'd spotted several carriages along the way huddled between buildings, the horses too spooked to continue in the storm.

Their carriage clattered underneath an awning, and the drone of the rain overhead stopped. Rowan took a deep breath, helped Kess from the carriage, then faced the unassuming block that had been his home. His father was relentlessly practical and hated the adornment and artistry on display in other manors. The building was utilitarian and downright austere, the stone cut into harsh corners with pillars attached to the building only for the sake of holding up the roof.

Still, it was sturdy and solid, which, in a gale like the one that now perpetually buffeted the city, was necessary. And it was home. Something ached in his chest at the familiarity, but also at the memories of a family who hadn't wanted him—who had used him, even. Kess squeezed his gloved hand gently as they stood in the entrance, other partygoers weaving around them to enter the brightly lit chamber ahead.

"If you can handle abominations of nature, you can handle your father," she said, a small smile lighting her eyes. Rowan smiled at her, some of his tension gone. Kess's absurdities had a way of putting the world into perspective, at least. He squeezed her hand, suddenly grateful for her presence by his side.

"Thank you," he said. They stepped into the ballroom together.

The ballroom itself was a drab stone square, though it was well-lit with lanterns and a smattering of Rowan's lights. He tried to ignore those as he pressed through the throng of people with Kess by his side. It was just as crowded as the previous balls had been—an odd thing given that the storm, the rumors, and the changing atmosphere of the city should have kept many noblemen in their homes. Still, if his father intended to run for the Seat, this would be an important political night for many households. They would want someone there to witness the exchanges, no matter how risky travel might be.

He wasted no time in approaching his father, who stood on a dais where classier households might host musicians. Rowan's father had never approved of such nonsense, as he called it, and instead used the dais as a makeshift platform from which to survey his kingdom.

Rowan stepped onto it with Kess, and several noblemen scattered like a flock of cloudspawn, trying to avoid the impending confrontation between father and son. Still, they stood nearby, watching. His father met his eyes, looking irritated.

"The last time we spoke, I seem to remember two promises being made," he said, a drink in his hand. "Since those promises have remained unfulfilled, I—"

"I wish for you to support my petition for the Seat of Mariel," Rowan said, his voice strong. It carried slightly, and the room grew hushed, though many maintained the quiet hum of conversation for the sake of propriety. Rowan's father barked out a laugh before taking a sip of his wine.

"You? A Seat? Fool boy, you have no Fulminancy. You expect me to take you and your wetboot filth seriously?"

Kess stepped forward then, her movements graceful in the maroon silk she wore. Her gloved hand still in Rowan's, she laced her fingers with his and let a spark of her Fulminancy drift through their hands in the same way his father had several months ago. That small burst of energy twined between his fingers gracefully, like a dance, and Rowan's fingers tingled and warmed where Fulminancy met. He stood tall, his back straight, and looked his father in the eye. His father's sneer didn't disappear until Kess let go of Rowan's hand and the Fulminancy continued to dance there.

His father opened and closed his mouth a few times, the wine entirely forgotten. Rowan knew he wanted to call it out as a trick, but he and Kess had planned for that possibility—Rowan might not have the skill alone to keep his borrowed Fulminancy twining between his fingers, but they'd found that inertia was a good enough substitute. And, with no trail of Fulminancy back to Kess, his father would be hard pressed to call it a lie.

The trick had the intended effect on his father. His hands tightened around the stem of the wineglass as he watched, aghast.

"You wear your colors like they're new to you," Kess said nearby, but not close enough to interfere with the Fulminancy. "You'll find that mine are not new to me." He saw her smile out of the corner of his eye. "Not any longer." She paused, folding her arms together. "But what to do with a son who hasn't even taken his exam, and yet surpasses you in skill already? If I were you, I'd make apologies fast, Lord Northmont."

His father paused for a beat longer, seemingly trying to decide if he wished to scream or have them thrown out. Finally, he downed the rest of his wine and sat, his eyes wary as he watched the two of them. Rowan closed his fist and let the Fulminancy snuff out there.

"You can't really be serious, boy," he said, setting his wineglass on the table.

"I am," Rowan replied. "You know my other powers are no trick either, Father. You've seen them in action yourself. Who better to petition for the Seat of Mariel than a man who can control Fulminancers? The Downhill will celebrate him, and the Uphill will fear him. It will be an easier election for you, and you'll have your say in any of my votes."

His father's eyes searched him, assessing. "And what do you get in exchange, boy? You wouldn't do this out of the kindness of your own heart." His father's eyes were hungry, and Rowan knew he had him. Now he only had to finish the job.

"I've always had an eye for politics, Father. This is an opportunity I can't pass up. I can enact policies which benefit both halves of the city, work with the other Seats to enact meaningful change—I'll never have an opportunity like this again. And, quite frankly, I'd like to have more oversight when it comes to my own inventions. An inventor beholden to his creditor isn't as creative as he could be."

It was the truth—a better gift than his father deserved. The matter of ascendancy still nagged at Rowan, but they would solve one problem at a time.

His father weighed him, scowling at Kess, who stood poised and confident slightly away from him, the smile on her face tending towards a smirk. Finally, he spoke.

"You've always been a meddler, it's true. I wasn't able to beat it out of you." He snagged another glass from a servant's tray and swirled the wine about, dark eyes brooding. "Fine," he said. "I shall support you. As you've somehow made good on both of your promises from the other night, that earlier threat is void." He smiled, a snakelike thing. "For now." Kess drew closer, gripping his arm again. "There is a nomination ceremony next week you will need to attend. Bring your woman if you wish, though I imagine she will only hurt your chances." Kess's mouth twisted in displeasure, but she said nothing. They'd won, after all. "Until then, stay very far away from me."

Rowan bowed to his father and made his way off the dais with Kess, heart thundering in his ears. Mariel's gray skies, we did it. He believed us. A strange sense of relief washed over him, mingling with the unease in his gut. It had been almost too easy, but that was real Fulminancy—a power that suddenly made everything within reach for Rowan. He felt that borrowed power, warm and comforting within his skin, a new life he hadn't had before. Part of him felt a pang of guilt at the deception, but another, stronger part of him didn't care. The ends would justify the means, for now.

Kess followed Rowan around the party, trying to relax. They had, after all, been successful. Rowan's father was convinced, and they were on track to infiltrate a Seat. It meant that she might be closer than ever to figuring out why Oliver was working with the Council in the first place. If nothing else, Rowan and Niall combined should be enough to find something substantial on her brother, and having access to Council meetings and buildings might give Kess some idea of how to stop the storm raging outside.

Niall caught her eye from across the room, where he lounged on a chaise with a glass of wine. He winked at her, and Kess tried to look pleasant instead of annoyed. She still didn't trust him, but at least he hadn't betrayed them—yet.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Their cover wasn't blown, Rowan was petitioning for her Seat, and he hadn't suffered any ill effects from the transfer. Though she'd heard that voice, she also wasn't dead, which was advantageous—so why was she still nervous?

Thunder rumbled overhead, and a bolt of lightning struck with such force it rattled the building. Women squealed, and Rowan gave her a sharp look, but she shook her head. It hadn't been her powers.

That's when she heard it again.

Release it. Scatter it. Unlock it. A woman's voice boomed through her head this time, more distinct than a few hours ago. The party continued on as if no one else could hear the voice. She kept her face straight, but couldn't help the little flinch her fingers gave where attached to Rowan.

"Kess, what—"

"I'm going to go sit down for a moment," she said, shaken. Rowan tried to follow her to the edge of the room, but she waved him off, encouraging him to spread the word of his nomination. He hesitated, but eventually left, though she caught him glancing at her periodically.

The chair didn't help her nerves, but the voice was gone, at least. Kess couldn't for the life of her figure out why Mariel would tell her to release Fulminancy, yet give her no means of doing so. Maybe she'd just run out of time. She folded her arms, frustrated. If the voice wanted something done, perhaps it should have been a little more specific.

Kess was about to join Rowan again when a small young woman, barely sixteen, came up beside her ear, whispering. Kess recognized her as one of Wyatt's sisters. She'd worked the tavern on and off for years before snagging this servant job Uphill, which likely paid ten times as much.

Her voice was quick and light in Kess's ear. "We didn't quite find 'im, lady, but I have a mind where he'll be next."

"Where?" Kess asked, breath short.

"That nomination ceremony next week. Some of the other Council people said they'd bring 'im along, but I had to leave before they mentioned why."

"It's fine," Kess said, thinking. "Thank you," she said to the woman, grasping her hand in both of hers. "I am in your debt."

The girl flushed, then nodded, flitting off to serve more drinks. Kess sat there for several moments, chewing her lip. It all seemed to fit together a little too nicely, but then, she'd known that her brother was working with the Council. Whatever his reasoning for helping them, she'd be able to find out, and she'd have Rowan with her to boot. It wasn't a bad start.

She made her way through the massive chamber towards Rowan again, slipping beside him as he finished a conversation with an old school friend of his. In spite of his bastardization, Rowan was now well-connected and generally liked—in large part due to the popularity of his lights. Those were a lit fuse against a mining charge, but Kess expected the election to go well for him, if nothing else got in the way.

Rowan nodded to the man, giving him a slight bow, then murmured in Kess's ear as they steered away from the more crowded part of the building.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes," Kess said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Rowan, I—"

Her words were cut off as a crack and a clatter of dishes rang out across the room. Kess's eyes snapped to another, more recognizable sound—that of flesh against flesh. A well-dressed man stood in the corner of the room, his hand crackling with Fulminancy. Wyatt's sister sat on the floor, sobbing, holding her cheek. Drinks lay at her feet, the wine trickling across the floor through shards of glass.

"No one says no to me, wench! Was I not good enough for you last night?" His slurred voice was clear enough to ring out throughout the room. He crouched by her then, grinning, his voice lower, but still very much audible from the amount of alcohol in his system. "Tonight me an' the lads down at Redring are going to have a great time. I'll tell them to wear something nice." The man patted the girl's cheek, and the patch of his garrison number was visible on the side of his jacket. A Witchblade garrison leader, then. Kess didn't think, she moved.

Rowan's grip kept her back.

"Kess, we can't."

"What do you mean, we can't? I'm not leaving her there. She—"

"The damage is done," Rowan murmured, nodding to the girl. Kess stopped pulling against Rowan's arm just long enough to watch Wyatt's sister pull herself from the ground as the man stalked off. "I want to help her just as bad as you do, but unless it gets worse, we have to leave it."

Kess took several deep breaths, fighting to calm herself. He was right, of course—any action now could ruin their chances of being in place at the nomination ceremony. Being invited was by far preferable to marching on the Uphill with an army. And Kess was fairly certain they didn't have that kind of manpower.

Her mind recognized Rowan's wisdom, but her heart screamed otherwise. How many times had this happened to Wyatt's sister before? How many Fulminant men had she been forced to share a bed with to bring home a paycheck? A sick feeling settled in Kess's gut as she realized that she'd put the girl up to this. She'd sacrificed her to get to her brother. Kess huddled closer to Rowan as he led her further away from the scene, fighting tears.

Kess had, in some part, moved past her bitter hatred of the Fulminant. There were those who used their powers to better Hillcrest, and still others who used them for abuse. And yet Kess had a hard time remembering when any Witchblades had been kind or understanding.

Kess still remembered the proprietary touch of the Witchblades she'd murdered at Riverside. She felt less and less remorse about that day as she watched the garrison leader laughing across the room. Entire garrisons were having their way with women? If Kess stood by and did nothing about that kind of abuse, what kind of Fulminancer did that make her?

Seconds after they reached the corner of the room to shelter near an undecorated pillar, screams erupted from the middle of the ballroom.

"What now?" she breathed.

Light snapped from the center of the room, flashing and illuminating the partygoers as they backed away from a well-dressed woman who held her head, screaming. She wore a red and blue sash, but she should have left it off for all the good it did her. Her shrieking turned into garbled words.

"Release it!" she shrieked. "Unlock them!" Her Fulminancy crackled around her and storm clouds appeared where she stood before they devoured her and the Fulminantic light she produced. Several seconds passed, the screaming sucked into the storm clouds to leave only the concerned whispers of the nobility.

Those swirling clouds disappeared and left a dark blot in the middle of the room, its form ephemeral, a shadow where the woman should have been.

"I don't suppose Mariel could have been a bit more specific?" Rowan whispered next to her. You're telling me, Kess thought.

"Rowan," she hissed. "We need to leave. Now." She tugged on his arm, and Rowan, to his credit, didn't argue. They were out the front doors and into the carriage before the screaming started again. Behind them, the few Uphill citizens with sense flooded the exit, crowding one another as the shadow darted through the crowd. A few made it through, but many were trapped in the exit. Even those that made it out under the awning were forced to wait for carriages. What the shadows did when they had unbridled access to people, Kess could only guess at. She slumped against the carriage seat, heart pounding.

Kess stared at the carriage wall as it thundered away from the manor. Rowan refused to speak. There was nothing to be said. She'd told him of the shadows, and here they were, appearing among the nobility. Niall hadn't been wrong. Kess hadn't been wrong. But if Fulminancers could transform into those shadows, what did it mean?

Release it.

I'm trying.

Kess knew she should be more concerned with the shadow, but her thoughts fell on Wyatt's sister, beaten and tormented, her eyes haunted and her hands covered in blood and wine as she cowered away from the man in front of her.

And yet she'd fled. Away from the shadow. Away from Wyatt's sister. Away from anyone who needed help. She'd helped the Downhill in the past months, but only when convenient to her—only when the risk was so low as to be negligible.

She was cautious. Deliberate.

She was a coward.

What am I so afraid of? Her own voice echoed back to her from that rooftop fight with Rowan a year ago—a lifetime ago.

Yourself, he'd said.

Kess removed her glove and clenched her wounded hand until blood welled up through the bandage. She'd left Wyatt's sister to that man and his garrison. She'd left the whole Downhill to rot for years while she hid. She'd nearly gotten Rowan killed. Perhaps she hadn't asked for these powers, and perhaps she hadn't been willing to commit the atrocities required to ascend to them, but with that act already done, what did it make her if she refused to use them to their fullest extent? What did it mean for her parents' sacrifice if Kess wouldn't even use her powers to protect others?

You'll become a monster, she thought. You were never able to control them before. Nothing has changed. But ignoring them had brought this storm, these shadows, and those creatures to the city. Ignoring them had left so many to suffer. Perhaps Fanas had been right.

Heat still seared through her body as Rowan's touch faded, a burning, white-hot pain that flooded through her veins at all hours of the day. Perhaps it was killing her. Perhaps she would be the next Shadow.

But without her, what would someone like Wyatt's sister do?

She found, as the wind slammed into the carriage and the rain came down in thick waves, that she no longer cared about what these powers would do to her, or what she would become.

She was a tool, just like her Fulminancy. She would use what she had been given to make things right, even if it destroyed her in the process.