The Bride of Death by F.M. Aden

Author:F.M. Aden
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781738963140
Publisher: Northern Light Press

The Little Lamb

There was a library in the palace. It was hidden behind a statue of some unknown chimera. When you touched its snout, the platform would turn, and you would find yourself in a vast athenaeum. There were old books and new books and books being written at this very moment. There were oral tales that had only ever been spoken but never written, that existed on toughened paper in blood. She saw the works of the Turks, the Romans, and the Greeks. There were stories of wars yet to come, of bloodshed and death, of civilizations falling and rising. These were works written by the demons of myth, sinful tales of horror and blood.

Karash had led her here when she asked him if there was a library for her to research Korbolko the firebird. It was a room of magic and impossibility, and it seemed to take a deep breath when she entered, the walls expanding like a pair of lungs. The shelves were made of strong cherrywood, and candles lay on every shelf, ready to be burned. Zerryn found herself in a section that housed the books of myth. She found various tales of Korbolko, who went by many names. Some of them were of Rus, some of China, and some of the Turks.

Zerryn wasn’t sure how many hours had passed before she felt the shadow of a presence behind her. For a moment she thought it was Erlik, that had sought her out. But the form that slipped between the shelves only had the barest essence of him. Yağmur’s half-shaved head gleamed in the dark, and her tall form slid into the chair opposite Zerryn.

“Shouldn’t you be out there tearing the fear from the innocent?” Zerryn said.

Yağmur stared at her, somber and focused. Her black eyes were so much like Erlik’s, a slit filled with darkness.

“We met before,” she said. Yağmur leaned back on her chair, the legs resting on the shelves behind her. She withdrew a dagger and twisted it in her fingers. “You were young, you died, and you came here.”

Zerryn sucked in a sharp breath. “I don’t remember.”

“Of course not,” she said. “You lost a piece of yourself that night, became a pawn in fate’s game.”

“Was that when he gave me this?” Zerryn pointed to her black pupil.

“You were strong, touched by magic,” Yağmur said, almost in wonder. “Birds flocked to you and wolves turned to pups before you, like you were Asena the Mother. Trees swayed to kiss you, and Archura the forest guardian vowed to serve you. The oldest cryptids turned from Erlik and crawled to you like you were their little queen. You were old magic, pure magic. And Erlik didn’t like it.”

“Erlik had said something of the sort when we first met, but I don’t have that magic anymore,” she whispered. Her chest ached, and she realized that she longed for the magic they spoke of. If it were anything like Erlik’s, she would do anything to get it back.

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