Her Dark Enchantments by Rosalyn Briar EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Rosalyn Briar
- Language: English
- Genre: Fairy Tales
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
BYZARIEN
Embers danced against the inky night, only to rain upon the soldiers as
dead, white ash. The elderwood funeral pyre blazed in rolling flames as
Byzarien approached, and the putrid tang stung his nose. The glow erased
the mountainous surroundings, as if only the army encampment existed in
all the world.
A chant rose above the whistling breeze as the soldiers prayed to the
god of war, “As in war, now in death, guide our fallen brother, Lazaire. Let
him not be lost along the Darkened Path. Serve him as he served you.”
Each soldier tossed a token onto the pyre to ensure the deceased safe
passage into the Underworld. While Byzarien waited, the wind of eternal
winter bit through the leather and fur of his jacket. He swept his dark hair
over the scars on his cheek and squeezed the knucklebones in his grip. He
and Lazaire had often gambled into the early hours of the morning with
them—when Lazaire was still himself, that is.
Byzarien glared, an inferno in his eyes, at the woman standing closest to
the pyre. The witch had hair darker than volcanic sands, bone-pale skin, and
eyes sharp as broken glass. Rumors said she befriended the spiders that
spun her midnight gowns. The gloomy fibers clung to her body like a
second skin, and the intricate metalwork and beading reflected the flames.
Her face remained stoic and empty, with no hint of grief or remorse.
Murderer.
She had mutilated his friend. Byzarien’s gut wrenched the more he
thought about it. He couldn’t properly mourn Lazaire while his insides
burned hotter than the pyre itself. When the witch left before the service
was over, his hatred deepened. By the time Byzarien reached the pyre, his
breaths were erratic, and the knucklebones in his hand were slick with
sweat. The flames threatened to lick his scars, and echoes of his family’s
screams roared from the fire, but nothing would stop him from paying his
respects.
After tossing the knucklebones into the flames, he followed the line of
soldiers filtering in and out of the Guerrix Temple. Long ago, after a major
victory secured the kingdom, the very first Eglantyne soldiers had carved
the hollowed-out rock to honor the god of war. The underground temple,
though far from home, was sacred to the kingdom and its soldiers.
Ducking inside, Byzarien welcomed the dim glow of candlelight
sparkling against the gilded icon of Guerrix. The god of war held two
crossed swords, like Byzarien’s pendant—a gift from his parents when he
joined the army. Age-old murals depicting the gods clung to the walls with
chipped and faded pigments, while ghosts of soot rose from every candle
niche. Byzarien whispered a prayer to Guerrix, then moved along for the
next soldier to do the same.
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