Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(7)

“I wouldn’t bother.” I laughed, the sound of my steps loud in the darkness. “I think you are fighting a losing battle.”

“You are probably right. I guess you would have to sleep in a real bed every once in a while for it to do what you want, anyway.” She said the words, but she didn’t stop trying to flatten her hair.

“You could keep it going and get yourself some matching dreads.” I smiled at her as I took a few quick steps over to the still feigning Dramin, putting the half-full mug on his nightstand.

“Don’t think that the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.” She twisted her hair around her finger mindlessly as she turned to me. “I don’t think I’d look good with dreads.”

“You are probably right, but you can give it a shot. Who knows, you might fall in love with it.”

I tried to smile, as did she, but neither smile stuck. They fell off our faces like undercooked pasta on the wall, sliding to the old stone floor in pools of hope that we had lost far too long ago.

I gazed at her as I watched the humor fade, the carefree nature that was so Wyn disappearing from a heartache I had seen before. It was a look I never wanted to see again, yet there it sat, feet from me, ripped and bleeding.

I said nothing, only extended my hand to her in comfort. After all, I didn’t think any words would help. They hadn’t for the past few months, and they wouldn’t now.

Sometimes, words couldn’t heal the way you thought they would. Sometimes, they made you bleed more.

Her hand was cold as it wrapped around mine, the skin slick with a clammy chill. She held on as if she was in danger of floating away, a grip I returned as we stood by his bedside, the vigil so heavy against my soul it was hard to inhale.

“When was the last time you left him?” I regretted asking the question as I watched her shoulders stiffen, her hand tightening around mine slightly as the pain and irritation moved through her in waves. “Left the room, Wyn.” I quickly clarified, even though it didn’t seem to help. The reaction was the same.

“I took a team to the yellow sector last night. We thought we saw a light…” Her voice was stiff, dangerous, and I cringed against it. “I need to leave again in a few hours.”

“Another raid?” I would like to say it wouldn’t happen, given the fight Ilyan had left, but I knew better.

“Grocery run,” she said, her focus still on Thom. “We need more apples. I hope we don’t lose anyone this time.”

I tried to smile, tried to think of something to say, but it was hard. It was hard to think of anything besides how are you? And if I was tired of that question, I knew she would be, too. Why couldn’t people think of anything else to ask? Even discussions on rainstorms would be better or at least something to get your mind off the world.

“I have to go meet up with Ilyan, but do you want to spar later?” I asked hesitantly, knowing I would end up with a broken bone or two. She might be volatile and aggressive sometimes, but it was good practice for me.

“I’d like that.” She looked away from me as she answered, her focus returning to Thom.

I waited for her to turn back, but she stayed still, her hand tight against mine, her heart beat a heavy throb against my palm.

I squeezed her hand, her focus undeviating as she released me, leaving me standing beside her in the darkened room, the stagnant air pressing against me in a painful mass.

Part of me didn’t want to leave, but another part knew I had no choice. I had to walk away from the darkness and back into the hallway. I had to walk away from her, from Thom, and in some strange way, from the hope that Edmund would stop hurting those I loved.

It was a dumb hope, really, and one I had tried to let go of many times.

I knew it was inevitable. No matter how much I tried to push the images of everyone dead in the street, of Ilyan bleeding in the cave, back into the black pit of my mind …

Edmund would still come.

It was a good thing I had learned how to push back. It was a good thing I wanted to win.

And I would.





The hallway was far too bright and active for this early in the morning. Where the building had been half-asleep and empty moments before, now it was slowly filling with people, people who looked at me as they passed, head bowed in respect, hushed reverences on their lips.

You would think I would be used to it by now, but I wasn’t. Besides, I couldn’t ignore the tiny voice in my head that said they were talking about me, and not just mumbling the usual polite formalities.

Sometimes, my brain was too high school for its own good.

I had moved into a wider and much busier hallway when the sound of thunder and drums resounded through the sky. The clamor grew louder as the massive building began to shake, old, lead windows rattling, a fresh layer of dust falling over me like snow and confetti.

My heart clenched, the recall from this morning’s sight coming right to the forefront. The falling of ash, the cave collapsing over me. I knew it wasn’t the same, but I couldn’t stop the reaction.

I couldn’t stop the fear.

After all, I already knew what it was, and it was so much worse.

How many? I asked the question into Ilyan’s mind in a rush, and his focus moved away from Risha as I ran to the windows beside me, looking at all of the black specks that were now circling around the high dome. Like drops to a windowpane, everyone around me followed suit, their eyes to the sky as the gasps and murmurs resounded down the hall.