We couldn’t wait.

Unnerved by the intrusive thought, I eyed the land. Either Ash had mentioned this before or my intuition had told me that these two riverbeds were fed by headwaters located in Mount Rhee, the place the draken called home. These waters didn’t connect to the Black Bay or the Red River, which started in the Abyss. Should we have gone to Mount Rhee instead? “There were animals here, right?”

“There were.”

Fresh, running water would bring them back. Eventually. “What kind?”

“Some were what you’d find in the mortal realm—deer, livestock, wolves, tree bears. All manner of birds.” He paused. “Serpents.”

My lip curled. “You didn’t need to tell me that.”

“Has it changed your mind?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so,” he replied. “There were also animals never seen by most mortals. Beasts both large and small.”

Curiosity rose as I rubbed my damp palms on my cloak. “Like what?”

“Too many to name. But the Shadowlands was once home to the lyrue.”

“The lyrue?” I repeated, the name tugging at the edges of my memory, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever actually heard the term before.

“They were one of my father’s lesser-known creations. Some would say they were a mistake,” he explained, and I glanced over at him. His features were highlighted under the brightening starlight. “They were originally mortal, and legend says that my father believed he could give mortals a dual life like he did for the draken. But this was different. For what he created were beings mortal by day that took the form of beasts similar to wolves but on two legs at night.”

My forehead creased. “I assume they were considered a mistake because…?”

“Because they had no control over their forms once night fell.”

Why would that be such a big deal when other creatures in Iliseeum weren’t exactly normal to look upon?

Ash cleared that up a moment later. “And because they would then dine on the flesh of others, from cattle to gods and everything in between.”

My mouth dropped open. “Them eating people should’ve been the first thing out of your mouth.”

A wry grin appeared as his head tilted. “You have a point there.”

“Yeah, just a small one,” I replied. “They ate people?” I shook my head. “And they couldn’t be asked to, like, not do that?”

“You could ask them all you wanted, but the moment the sun set, they became nothing but insatiable hunger.” Flat, silver eyes met mine. “It didn’t matter who they were when the sun was high or who they loved. Nor did their horror upon discovering what they’d done in the darkest hours of night when they became the most brutal, primitive versions of the wolf. They’d feast on their babes if left alone with them once the sun faded.”

My stomach hollowed. Eating people was bad enough, but chomping down on one’s own children? That was next level. “They’re gone now?”

Ash nodded.

I started to ask how, but the answer occurred to me. A new horror took root in my chest. “With it not being a true day or night in the Shadowlands…”

“The lyrue remained in their beast forms,” he answered, his jaw hardening. “They had to be hunted into extinction, and for most of them, it was a relief—a release from a life that had become a curse and one they never would’ve chosen for themselves.”

Good gods.

Wondering what could’ve gone so drastically wrong, I turned my attention back to the riverbed, unable to understand the difference between giving a creature a dual life and creating one from a mortal. But the line between them was thin. Eythos had given the dragons a dual life, creating the draken. Why had—?

I stiffened, my skin tingling. “He…he didn’t give them a choice.”

Ash’s head snapped in my direction. “How did you—?” He inhaled deeply, his chin lifting. “Foresight.”

Nodding, I swallowed hard. “Why didn’t he give them a choice?”

Ash held my stare for a moment before his gaze slid away. “I don’t know. All of that happened long before I was born, but my father wasn’t without flaws.”

A knot lodged in my chest. No, he was not. “Kolis believes that everyone saw his brother as flawless.”

“And Kolis is a fucking idiot,” he snarled, shadows appearing beneath his thinning flesh. “There were likely those who did believe that, but no one who knew my father could’ve possibly continued doing so. He made mistakes.”

“Like with Sotoria?” I blurted out.

His gaze swung back to mine. “You’re talking about what he did with her soul—the deal he made with your ancestor?”

Now, it was I who looked away. I nodded, but I wasn’t thinking about Eythos’s deal with King Roderick Mierel and how he’d placed Sotoria’s soul along with the embers of life in my bloodline. It was what Kolis had claimed Eythos had done to Sotoria. What I knew was true.

Eythos had been the one to end Sotoria’s second life.

“Even though whatever he planned didn’t work as intended, what he did can’t be a mistake,” Ash said quietly, but he was closer. I could feel him. “If he hadn’t done that, our paths may not have crossed.”

Slowly, I turned to him. The shadows had receded from his flesh, but the eather pulsed brightly in his eyes. I started to tell him that wasn’t what I’d meant, but that would open a door, and it wasn’t a good time to walk through it because that conversation would lead to another truth Kolis had spoken—albeit a partial one. The one about Ash’s mother.

So, I did what Ash normally did.

I got the subject back on track. “I know you said you don’t know why your father didn’t give them a choice, but do you have any guesses? Because it seems so out of character for him.”

Eyeing me for a moment, he shook his head. “If I had to guess? Ego. He thought he knew best.”

“And he learned quickly that he didn’t?” Sighing, I turned back to the riverbed. “I should probably stop delaying this.”

“You know, you don’t have to try this,” Ash countered as a shadow of one of the draken fell over us. “Since the Rot has lifted, it will eventually rain. Even with winter on the way.”

I nodded. “I know.”

A moment passed. “And neither of us has any idea how much energy something like this will take. There’s no reason to tax yourself.”

But there was.

Parts of the Shadowlands had already fallen to the Rot by the time Ash had been born, but he’d said much of it resembled the Dark Elms of Lasania. Wild and lush. It hadn’t become this even when his father died.

Nearly twenty-one years ago, all the trees lost their leaves, and all the bodies of water, except for the Black Bay, dried up.

That had happened the night of my birth, signaling the start of the slow death of the embers.

Even though I knew it wasn’t my fault, I felt responsible for the final thing stolen from Ash and all those who resided in the Shadowlands.

I wanted to give it back to them. Now. Not later.

But again, it was more than that. Life needed to return to the Shadowlands. “I…I don’t know how to explain it, but I just have this feeling. Here.” I pressed my hand to my upper abdomen. “Like I have to do this. It’s an urge, and…” I glanced at him. “I don’t know if I can’t not try. I need to.”

Ash frowned. “Like you’re unable to stop yourself?”

I thought that over. “Not in the same sense as the lyrue being unable to stop themselves from eating people.”

“Well, that’s a relief to hear,” he said dryly.

I smiled. “But I don’t think I would be able to rest if I didn’t try. Like, I already feel a restlessness and an inexplicable sense of urgency.”

“Nektas mentioned something like this to you, didn’t he? When you asked him about my father’s abilities.”

I nodded. “I think this is like that.”

The draken dipped low then, blotting out the remaining rays of sun and starlight. The wind whipped, catching strands of my hair and tossing them across my face. Extending their wings, the draken slowed, landing on their forelegs first.