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We’d burned the funeral pyres for the two fallen of the Culled at sunset. One was Pullo’s quiet friend, Tierzel. It had hurt to see the usually jovial wraith fae so grim, tears shining in his eyes as we said goodbye to his dear friend.
I’d hugged him after we’d sent him to the afterlife with prayers to Vix. I remembered too well the pain and grief of losing Min so violently. Pullo welcomed my comfort and thanked me for it.
The other wraith fae I didn’t know as well. But both had been loyal to Goll and kind to me over the past weeks. Their loss had cut us deeply.
Keffa sang a song about souls finding contentment in the afterworld, meeting other lost loved ones there. It had been somber, but there was another emotion wafting into the air with the lingering darkness from the wolves. Fear.
Goll had told me he’d not seen animals behave in that manner. Meer-wolves were predatory pack animals, but their primary prey was deer and wild hog. They’d only attack a faewhen starving and desperate, and he’d never heard of any, not even a pack, attacking an entire encampment. There was indeed something wrong with the beasts.
Sickness, rebellion, and madness will prevail.
The plague—sickness—was already ravaging across Lumeria. This was the first touch of madness we’d seen. But if the oracles were right, and they almost always were, then we’d see more of this madness before it was all through. Not to mention a rebellion awaited. We’d just finished a long, grueling war. Who would want to stir up more trouble while Goll’s warriors occupied every city and was also helping to rebuild Lumeria?
Perhaps the rebellion would be one of the shadow fae. Goll and his warriors had said enough times that the shadow fae didn’t like the wraith fae. Perhaps one of their kind would go against the wraith king.
“Against Goll.”
“What?” asked Hava. “What’s against Goll?”
“Oh. Nothing.” I pulled my cloak tighter as we wound around the tents, nodding to a group of the Culled around a campfire.
They all respectfully stood and bowed as we passed, and my heart sank a little further. We’d come out here at my insistence. Tierzel and the other Culled had died because of me. A sickening sense of guilt weighed on my heart.
Hava looped her arm with mine and kept close for warmth as we drew nearer to the last tent on the south side of the encampment. That was where we were told Meck and Ferryn were.
“I’m so happy you have your wings back,” Hava said softly. “Well, you’ve had them back for a while, but you know what I mean.”
“Yes, Hava. Me, too. Though I will say, I need to exercise them. I could barely hold myself up while Ferryn fought that wolf.”
“Well, they did the trick and lifted you to safety. It’s wonderful, Una.”
“It is,” I agreed, hugging her arm and leaning into her, wishing this strange, dreadful feeling would go away. It hadn’t left since the attack. Perhaps, it was simply an aftereffect of the trauma.
“All we need is the final god-touched text, and I’m sure I’ll get back the other magick I lost,” I added.
“Healing magick,” said Hava. “A very special kind if it will allow you to cure the plague.”
That was my hope. It had me turning my thoughts to my father who, I was certain, was not long for this world. And Baelynn. My heart clenched at the thought of losing my dear brother. I simply couldn’t lose him.
I had to find this last text. By the gods, I was certain I’d be able to help my people then. All people who were afflicted. Goll had said there were rumors of the sickness now touching some of the dark fae as well. I was desperate to stop it.
Goll had promised to escort me immediately to Issos and to Valla Lokkyr once we’d found the last of them. He wasn’t the tyrant I’d once thought him to be. He could’ve refused to allow me to go back to Issos. He truly wanted peace between our people, as I did.
As we approached Meck and Ferryn’s tent, we heard low voices arguing. I pulled Hava to a stop, noticing Meck and Dalya standing outside the tent. Dalya seemed distressed while Meck whispered loudly.
“That’s enough. You shouldgo.”
I’d never heard Meck sound so angry. He always had an amiable mannerism.
“I’m trying to help,” Dalya said with desperation, her eyes swimming with tears under the afternoon sun.
“You’ve done enough,” snapped Meck with fury. “You shouldleave.”
A sense of certainty swept through me; he didn’t mean the tent. It seemed he wanted her to leave the encampment altogether. How strange.
“Is Ferryn not healing?” I asked, stepping forward.
They both turned sharply in surprise. I didn’t want to continue to eavesdrop on what seemed a heated, private conversation, but if Ferryn’s condition was worse than we thought, I needed to intervene. My innate need to heal, despite no longer having that magick, still beat strong and true deep in the heart of me.
