EMBERS OF THE FORSAKEN

The Hunter's Return

Smoke was rising from Saltpoint before the ship even reached the harbor.

James saw it first—a thin grey column against the pale morning sky, smudging the horizon like a bruise. His stomach turned to ice.

"No," he whispered.

Taylor grabbed his arm. "It could be anything. A cooking fire. A storm."

"At dawn? In a fishing village?" He pulled away. "They found them. Voss found them."

The ship's captain—a hard-faced woman who'd said nothing during the journey—looked at Sora. "Do we approach?"

Sora stood at the railing, her gold eyes fixed on the smoke. The death of the Dying King had left her hollow, her authority shattered. But some part of her still functioned.

"Approach slowly," she said. "Armed."

The ship glided toward the dock.

The village was destroyed.

Cottages burned, their roofs collapsed, their walls blackened with soot. The dock was splintered, half-submerged. Fishing boats lay overturned on the beach, their hulls cracked open like eggshells. And everywhere, the bodies.

Old Marius lay face-down on the sand, a crossbow bolt in his back. Two of the village women were tangled together outside the smokehouse, their throats cut. A young man James had shared bread with three days ago hung from a broken mast, his eyes wide and empty.

"No," James said again. Louder this time.

He jumped from the ship before it had fully stopped, landing knee-deep in the black water. He waded ashore, his boots sinking into the wet sand.

"Tommy!" he shouted. "TOMMY!"

Silence. Just the crackle of flames and the creak of burning wood.

Taylor caught up to him, her knife drawn. "James, wait. There could be traps."

"I don't care."

He ran through the village, checking every body, every doorway, every shadow. The schoolhouse where Tommy had helped the younger children read. The kitchen house where they'd eaten breakfast. The small cottage with the straw mattress and the wooden shutters.

Empty. Burned. Empty.

"TOMMY!"

Taylor grabbed him from behind and pulled him to a stop. "Look."

She pointed at the shrine to the sea god. The small stone building at the edge of the village, its roof still intact, its door closed. Something was carved into the wood.

A symbol. The divided circle—light and dark. The mark of the Dying King's followers.

But below it, another symbol. One James knew.

The Inquisition's brand. The Mark of the Hunt.

James pushed open the door.

The shrine was empty of statues or offerings. Instead, a single piece of paper lay on the altar, weighted down by a stone. James picked it up.

The boy lives. For now. Come to Ravensbrook. Surrender yourself to Commander Voss at the Spire, and the child goes free. Refuse, and you will receive his fingers. One per day. You have seven days.

The Hunt awaits.

James crushed the paper in his fist.

"Voss," he said. "He took Tommy."

Taylor's face was pale, but her voice was steady. "He wants you to trade yourself for the boy."

"Yes."

"Then we go to Ravensbrook."

"Taylor—"

"We go to Ravensbrook, we find Voss, and we kill him." She took the crumpled paper from his hand and smoothed it against her thigh. "He's had this coming for two years. I'm not going to let him use Tommy as bait without paying the price."

James looked at the bodies outside the shrine. The old man. The women. The young man hanging from the mast.

"These people died because of me," he said.

"These people died because of Voss. Don't confuse the two."

Sora appeared in the doorway. Her crew was behind her, their curved swords drawn, their faces grim.

"The Inquisition came last night," Sora said. "A small force. Maybe twenty hunters. They landed after midnight, killed everyone who resisted, and searched every building."

"They were looking for me."

"Yes. When they didn't find you, they took the boy and left." She paused. "One of my crew found tracks leading inland. Not toward the coast—toward the mountains. They're taking him overland."

"Why not by ship?"

"Because the Inquisition's ships are on the other side of the continent. They came on fast raiders, probably hired from the eastern ports. Those ships aren't built for long voyages." Sora stepped aside. "If you leave now, you can catch them before they reach the pass."

Taylor walked past her. "We need horses."

"There's a stable at the edge of the village. The Inquisition didn't burn it. They took the best horses, but three remain."

"Good." Taylor turned to James. "Are you coming, or do I go alone?"

James looked at the shrine. At the altar. At the crushed paper still in his hand.

"I'm coming," he said.

---

The stable was half-collapsed, but the horses were alive.

Three of them—two bays and a grey, all thin and scared but strong enough to ride. Taylor saddled the grey. James took one of the bays. Sora stood in the stable doorway, her arms crossed.

"I should come with you," she said.

"No." James tightened his saddle's girth. "You've lost your King. Your people need you."

"The Dying King was my purpose. Without him, I have nothing."

"Then find a new purpose." He swung onto the horse. "But not with us. This fight is ours."

Sora nodded slowly. "The Inquisition has a fortress in the Spire. The commander's quarters are at the top. Voss never sleeps in the same room twice, but he always eats breakfast in the north tower's dining hall. At dawn."

"How do you know that?"

"Because thirty years ago, I was a spy for the King. I know every weakness of every faction in the Sundered Realms." She reached into her jacket and pulled out a small leather pouch. "Spores. Bloom spores. If you need help, crush one. Kate will know."

James took the pouch. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me. Kill Voss." Sora stepped back. "And bring the boy home."

Taylor kicked her horse into motion. James followed.

The grey dawn light turned the smoke from Saltpoint into a golden haze behind them.

---

They rode hard for three hours.

The terrain was rough—rocky hills, sparse trees, the occasional stream. The Inquisition's trail was easy to follow. Broken branches. Horse dung. The bodies of villagers who'd tried to flee and been cut down.

Taylor stopped at the edge of a clearing. "We're gaining on them."

"How can you tell?"

"The droppings are fresh. The tracks are deep—they're riding heavy, probably carrying the boy." She looked at the sky. "They'll stop to rest at noon. We can catch them by sunset."

"And then what? There are twenty of them. Two of us."

"Three." Taylor pointed.

A figure emerged from the trees ahead. Tall, thin, wrapped in a cloak of grey wool. A hood covered their face, but James recognized the way they moved.

"The Dissembler," he said.

The figure pushed back their hood. Not the Dissembler—Sarai.

James's heart stopped.

"You're dead," he said.

"I was." Sarai walked toward him. Her skin was no longer grey—it was pale, almost luminous, with silver veins crawling beneath the surface. Her eyes were the color of molten metal. "The Ember didn't kill me. It changed me."

"How?"

"I don't know. When the transfer finished, I was gone. No heartbeat. No breath. For three days, I was dead." She touched her chest. "Then I woke up. The Ember was hungry. I was hungry. I dug myself out of the bone-house and walked across the Glass Sea."

"That's impossible," Taylor said.

"Many things are impossible. Then they happen." Sarai looked at James. "The fragment inside me isn't the same as the one you carried. It's weaker. Smaller. But it's still Emberion's hunger. And it led me here. To you."

"Why?"

"Because the Ember remembers you. It wants what it can't have." She smiled—a sad, cracked expression. "But I'm not here for the Ember. I'm here to help."

"How did you know we'd be here?"

"I didn't. I followed the trail of death. Bodies. Fire. Blood." Sarai's silver eyes flickered. "Voss left a path of destruction from Ravensbrook to the coast. Any fool could follow it."

Taylor dismounted. "Can you fight?"

"I can do more than fight. The Ember gives me... abilities. I can feel people's fears. Their weaknesses. Their hiding places." She looked toward the mountains. "The Inquisition column is six miles ahead. They've stopped to rest at a stream. The boy is alive. Scared, but alive."

James dismounted. "How many guards?"

"Fifteen. Five are watching the boy. The rest are scattered around the camp."

"Weapons?"

"Swords. Crossbows. One Null-blade." Sarai's expression darkened. "Voss isn't with them. He sent his hunters ahead while he returned to Ravensbrook."

"Then we take the hunters. Rescue Tommy. And then we go after Voss." Taylor drew her knife. "Sarai, can you lead us to the camp without being seen?"

"I can lead you through the Ember's eyes." She closed her own eyes. When she opened them, they were solid silver. "Follow me. Stay close. Stay quiet."

She walked into the trees.

James looked at Taylor. "Do you trust her?"

"I trust that she wants Voss dead. That's enough for now."

They followed.

---

The Inquisition camp was exactly where Sarai had said—a small clearing beside a rocky stream. Five tents. A central fire. Fifteen hunters in grey robes and golden masks.

Tommy sat tied to a tree at the edge of the camp. His hands were bound behind his back, his ankles tied to the trunk. His face was bruised—someone had hit him. But his eyes were open. Watching.

"You see the boy?" Taylor whispered. They were hidden in the treeline, fifty yards from the camp. "The hunters around him. Three on the perimeter. Two closer."

"I see them," James said.

"We take the perimeter first. Quietly. Sarai, you handle the two closest to Tommy. James, you stay here. If something goes wrong, you run to the boy and get him out."

"No. I'm not sitting this out."

"You're not sitting out. You're the backup. If we fail, you're the only chance Tommy has." Taylor grabbed his arm. "Don't argue. Just watch."

She moved into the trees.

Sarai followed.

James watched.

---

The first perimeter hunter died without a sound.

Taylor came up behind him, one hand over his mouth, her knife sliding across his throat. She lowered the body to the ground and moved to the second.

Sarai didn't use a blade. She walked toward the two hunters guarding Tommy, and they froze. James couldn't see her face, but he could see the effect—the hunters stood motionless, their hands at their sides, their masks tilted up as if they were listening to something.

Sarai touched one of them on the forehead. He crumpled. She touched the other. He crumpled too.

The Ember, James realized. She's using it to paralyze them.

The remaining hunters noticed. A shout went up. Crossbows raised.

Taylor threw her knife. It embedded in a hunter's chest. She drew her second blade and charged.

Sarai moved faster—faster than anyone James had ever seen. Silver light trailed from her hands as she ran, and the hunters who tried to stop her fell without a sound.

James ran for Tommy.

"Jamie!" Tommy shouted.

James reached the tree and started cutting the ropes with the small knife he'd taken from the ship. The ropes were thick, the knots tight.

"Are you hurt?" James asked.

"My face hurts. And my ribs." Tommy's voice shook. "They hit me when I tried to run."

"They won't touch you again. I promise."

Behind him, the battle was ending. Taylor and Sarai had killed or disabled all fifteen hunters. The clearing was filled with bodies and the groans of the dying.

Taylor walked to James, her knife dripping. "We need to move. These were just the advance scouts. Voss has more men in the mountains."

"Where's Voss?"

"Ravensbrook. Waiting for you." She knelt and helped James cut the last rope. "We can't go back to Saltpoint. The villagers are dead. Sora's ship is leaving. We need a new plan."

James pulled Tommy to his feet. The boy swayed, but he stood.

"The plan is the same," James said. "We go to Ravensbrook. We find Voss. We end this."

"You can't just walk into the Spire. It's the most fortified place in the city."

"Then we don't walk. We sneak." James looked at Sarai. "You said the Ember lets you see people's fears. Their weaknesses. Can you see Voss's?"

Sarai's silver eyes flickered. "From here? No. He's too far. But if I get closer—"

"Then we get you closer."

Taylor shook her head. "This is insane. Even if we get into Ravensbrook, even if we reach the Spire, Voss has an army. We have three people and a child."

"Four." A voice came from the trees.

A man stepped into the clearing. Tall, dark-skinned, with a gold tooth that glinted in the dying light. He wore elegant clothes—ruined by travel—and carried a curved sword.

Raymond.

The smuggler prince from Ravensbrook. The man who'd betrayed them to the Inquisition.

James drew his knife. "You."

"Me." Raymond raised his empty hands. "I'm not here to fight. I'm here to help."

"You sold us out. Taylor and James. You told the Inquisition where to find us."

"I did. And I've regretted it every day since." Raymond stepped closer. "The Syndicate had my sister. They were going to kill her if I didn't cooperate. So I cooperated. And then Voss killed her anyway."

Taylor's knife was at his throat before James could blink. "Why should we believe you?"

"Because I'm the only one who knows how to get you into the Spire." Raymond didn't flinch. "I've been smuggling in and out of that fortress for years. There's a tunnel. An old maintenance shaft that leads directly to the north tower's basement. Voss's dining hall is one floor up."

"If you're lying—"

"Then you kill me. I'd prefer you didn't, but I understand the risk." Raymond looked at James. "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm asking for a chance to make things right. My sister is dead. I have nothing left except my network and my guilt. Let me use them to help you."

James looked at Taylor. At Sarai. At Tommy.

"One chance," James said. "If you betray us again—"

"Voss will kill me before you get the chance. He's not in a forgiving mood." Raymond lowered his hands. "Do we have a deal?"

James sheathed his knife.

"We have a deal."

---

They walked through the night.

The mountains gave way to rolling hills, then to farmland, then to the outskirts of Ravensbrook. The city loomed on the horizon, its clockwork towers black against the stars.

Tommy rode with James, his small body pressed against his brother's chest. He was asleep, exhausted by fear and pain. James held him tight.

"The Spire," Raymond said, pointing. "The tall building with the blue lights. That's Voss's headquarters."

"How many guards?" Taylor asked.

"At night? Two hundred. Maybe more. The Inquisition is paranoid about assassins."

"And the tunnel?"

"Leads to the north tower's wine cellar. Voss's personal stock. He's the only one with the key—but I've been stealing his wine for years." Raymond smiled grimly. "The lock is cheap. Any knife can open it."

"What about guards inside the tower?"

"Four at the cellar door. Two at the stairs. Six in the dining hall." Raymond counted on his fingers. "Voss eats alone. His personal guard waits outside. If we can get past the cellar and the stairs, we can take him before anyone knows we're there."

"That's a lot of ifs."

"That's why I brought friends."

Raymond whistled. From the shadows of a burned-out farmhouse, a dozen figures emerged. Men and women, armed with swords and crossbows, their faces hard and tired.

"My crew," Raymond said. "The ones who survived the Syndicate's purge. They're not afraid to die. They just want to take some Inquisition hunters with them."

Taylor looked at the crew. Then at James.

"This is your call," she said.

James looked at Tommy. At the sleeping boy's bruised face. At the way his small hands still gripped James's shirt even in sleep.

"We do it tonight," James said. "Before Voss knows we're here. Before he has time to move Tommy's fingers."

Raymond nodded. "The tunnel entrance is in the old cemetery. The same one you used before. We'll be inside the Spire by midnight."

James dismounted, careful not to wake Tommy. He handed the boy to Taylor.

"Take him somewhere safe," he said. "Somewhere Voss won't find."

"James—"

"Please. I can't fight if I'm worried about him."

Taylor looked at Tommy. Then at James. Then at the city.

"There's an old safe house in the Shallows," she said. "The one Elias used. The Inquisition might have searched it, but they won't expect us to go back."

"Then go. I'll find you when it's done."

"When it's done, we leave Ravensbrook together. All three of us."

James nodded.

Taylor carried Tommy into the darkness.

James turned to Raymond and Sarai.

"Let's go kill a commander."