CROWN OF ASHES & WINGS

Castella

The night air in Evrithall always carried a sharp tang: smoke from the hearths, the briny breath of wind rolling in from the harbor, and if you were sensitive enough, the faint metallic trace of blood spilled outside Thaldrun.

Thaldrun is a massive wall shielded every corner of the Caeloria kingdom, vast enough to guard even its hidden veins, keeping out the monstrous things that lurked beyond.

More precisely, it stood against the Nyxthrad Forest, an ancient wood the old priests once called the Mouth of the World, a place where dark spirits and primeval creatures waited to devour the realm of men.

I pulled the hood of my cloak lower, hiding my face from the lantern light. The cobbled street was slick with the rain that had fallen earlier, each step echoing faintly between the tall, tight-packed buildings.

Everyone knew I had no business being here. Everyone also knew the Duke and Duchess had forbidden me from ever setting foot in Gilder’s Tavern, least of all on a weekend night. But rules to them were a prison, and I never had much taste for prisons.

The heavy wooden door swung open with a push. A wave of sound crashed over me. Laughter, shouts, the clash of mugs, warm and stormlike. The smell of thick ale, roasted meat, and sweat tangled together into something strangely comforting.

A few heads lifted from their card games as I entered. Some eyes widened, others just arched a brow. By now, they were used to my boldness… or my foolishness.

I crossed to a table in the corner where three Thaldrun guards sat. Their thick leather coats bore the silver shield insignia, the mark of the men who kept the great walls, dividing us from the darkness of Nyxthrad.

“I’m in,” I said, pulling out a chair before they could object.

The youngest guard (Kerr) if I remembered right, offered me a nervous smile and shoved a stack of cards toward me. “If you lose, Princess, you pay double.”

I grinned. “If I win, you tell me something I’m not supposed to know.”

The first hand passed quickly. They were good, but I was better. A perk of playing often with men who assumed I was just a sweet little girl who knew nothing of the game. I nearly took the second hand as well, but the conversation drifting across the table was far more interesting than the cards in my palm.

Kerr leaned back, swallowed a mouthful of ale, and let out a heavy sigh. “You hear what happened east of Thaldrun?”

The oldest guard, Bram, shook his head. “Not here.”

“Too late,” Kerr cut in, flicking his eyes toward me. “Our patrolmate… Alder… he didn’t come back two nights ago.”

I straightened, fingers curling around my glass. “Lost?”

Bram’s gaze landed on me, weighing whether I was worth the truth. “No. Attacked.”

“By whom?”

The noise of the tavern seemed to dull, or maybe it was only my ears sharpening, waiting for his answer.

“By a Morvane.”

The name was a whisper I’d heard before, murmured in markets, half-prayers spoken while tracing holy signs in the air. But from Bram’s mouth, it wasn’t a child’s fright-tale.

“We found him,” Bram went on, voice rough, “or what was left of him. What had already become… Morvane.”

I held my breath, reading their faces.

“Morvane aren’t just corpses,” Kerr said, his eyes wide. “They’re fast. They’re hungry in ways that make no sense. And if they bite you…”

“Enough.” Bram’s tone snapped sharp, though his fists curled tight on the table.

I tilted my head, studying the lines in his face. “You cut the story before the most important part.” I leaned forward. “If Alder had already changed, what did you do?”

Bram dropped his gaze, jaw tightening, as if the words themselves could chew holes into him.

Kerr swallowed, his eyes flicking nervously toward the tavern door, as though something outside might hear.

“There’s no… easy way,” he murmured.

I waited, elbow propped on the table.

“We thought he was still Alder,” Kerr said at last, voice barely above a whisper. “But his eyes—”

He broke off, staring into his ale as if it might drown the memory.

“What about his eyes?” I pressed.

“There wasn’t any white left,” Kerr said finally. His voice trembled. “Just black. Black so deep it looked like a bottomless well… and in the middle, a red glow, pulsing like a heart.”

The hairs on my arms rose, but I didn’t look away. “And then?”

Bram lifted his head, fury simmering in his stare but not aimed at me.

“Then he ran at us. Not like a man runs. Like an animal leaping for the kill. We held him for a few seconds, but he…” Bram stopped, sucking in a rough breath. “He smashed Gerro’s jaw clean through. If I hadn’t cut him down…”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Kerr’s voice dropped lower. “We burned the body. It’s the only way to be sure they won’t rise again. Fire’s the only thing they fear. Even steel isn’t enough… because they don’t bleed like us. What flows in them is more like poison.”

“Terrifying,” I said, though a smile ghosted across my lips. I sipped my ale slowly, bitter on my tongue. “And you left him in the forest before you burned him?”

Bram’s eyes narrowed, catching the edge in my tone. “That wasn’t him anymore, Princess. Alder died the moment those teeth sank into his throat. What remained was only a Morvane.”

I didn’t answer, though my mind was racing. They spoke of Alder as though he were a story scrubbed from history. But what I heard was something else entirely… a crack in the wall of their tale.

“How long before someone turns?” I asked, trying to sound indifferent.

Bram let out a heavy sigh. “Sometimes as fast as their last breath… sometimes it takes a whole night. There’s no telling. That’s what makes them dangerous. You could be walking beside your friend, and five minutes later he’s trying to tear out your throat.”

Kerr nodded quickly, his gaze fixed on me with a seriousness I’d rarely seen in his face. “Nyxthrad twists anyone stupid enough to wander inside without protection. Even Thaldrun can’t always hold them back… let alone someone like you.”

The edge in his voice cut at my pride. “Someone like me?”

Kerr froze, as if realizing too late what he’d said.

Bram, on the other hand, didn’t bother to soften it. “Yes. You grew up under lantern light, with warm meals and walls to keep you safe. You don’t know what it feels like to face them in the dark, alone, with nothing but a blade in your hand.”

I met his stare without flinching. “Maybe that’s exactly why I need to try.”

Bram snorted, unimpressed.

But Kerr gave the faintest smile, whether in admiration or because he thought I was insane, I couldn’t tell.

That night, I let them believe I was only playing with words.

But deep down, the choice was already made.

If the Morvane were truly out there, I wanted to see them with my own eyes.