Page 7 of Thorn & Ash

Another punch to the gut had him on his knees. When Evander collapsed, his two brothers crowded him, exchanging kick after kick, their attack relentless. Evander tried to raise his arms to cover his face, but the pain roared inside him, consuming him. White stars danced in his vision, and the monster within him lurched, eager to be unleashed, to end this attack once and for all.

Evander channeled all his energy into keeping the beast at bay. He allowed his brothers to beat him, to smash him as if he were nothing more than a caged animal.

He couldn’t risk it. Unleashing his power would have deadly consequences. And with his brothers, he didn’t dare expose that side of himself. Everything was a weapon to these two, and they would easily exploit it if they knew.

He had worked hard for eons to keep this part of himself shackled forever. This was a small price to pay to keep his mind and body intact. He would never give in to that darkness. Ever.

He had to keep this secret. Keep the beast bound. Even if it meant enduring his brothers’ cruelty for a few more moments.

When the two finally stopped, they laughed, mocking the way Evander remained curled up on the ground like a child. They left without preamble, their jeering echoing in the forest long after they vanished from view.

Evander remained huddled on the ground, the pain so blinding and intense that he knew the smallest of movements would amplify it. So he remained where he was, struggling to breathe through the blood in his throat.

He was immortal. He would heal from these wounds, as he always did. But that wasn’t the point. The point was, his brothers had the power to render him weak and powerless. And they often sought to remind Evander of that fact.

After what felt like hours, Evander finally rose, his muscles burning and his head throbbing. The blood had dried on his face, and he hastily scrubbed at it, causing silver flecks of it to fall to the earth. His hands ran along his forehead and cheeks, searching for more wounds. But there was nothing else. Either his immortal body had already begun healing, or most of his injuries were internal. He could feel it as he staggered to his feet, his insides burning and scorching a path of fire through his blood that he endured with every step. He gritted his teeth, telling himself this was worth it. His brothers would leave him alone for a while. He’d bought himself more time.

And his secret was still safe.

He sat by the edge of the river, resting his back against a large pine tree as he struggled to control his breathing. The silence of the forest surrounding him, lulling him into a calm and peaceful mentality. Slowly, the trauma of his beating faded, and he focused on the solitude he loved. The tranquility of this secluded space.

He wasn’t sure how much time passed—perhaps hours—before he finally climbed to his feet and dusted the dirt off his clothes. A few flecks of silver blood had stained his tunic, but he buttoned his jacket, covering the blemish. His ribs still ached and his muscles protested his movements, but the worst of his injuries had already healed.

He would overcome this. Just like he always did.

He turned toward the forest, then froze with the realization that there was something else lingering nearby. For one horrifying moment, he thought his brothers had returned. But as he inhaled, he realized it was something new. A magic he had never smelled before.

Evander faced the river and breathed in more deeply, allowing the hunter within him to sift through the foreign fragrance in hopes of identifying it.

Salt and seawater. The faintest hint of roses.

Evander frowned. None of those things belonged here. This was a freshwater river, and he had never seen roses in the forest before. Eyes narrowing, he scrutinized the depths of the river, peering at the glowing silvery orbs of the souls floating within. Nothing seemed amiss. Except…

There it was. Several paces away, farther upstream, was a faint, transparent fog that Evander might have missed if he hadn’t been looking for it. Heart pounding, Evander edged along the riverbank, drawing closer to the strange mist. Whatever it was couldn’t be good. This was a strange magic—a new magic—which meant it was dangerous.

Like all forms of magic.

As Evander drew nearer, he realized the fog was taking shape. It slowly solidified until it formed the semi-transparent embodiment of…a woman.

Evander stopped short, his mouth falling open in surprise. Wariness crept into his thoughts. He trusted women about as much as he trusted magic. Both Aidoneus and Cyrus had been tricked and betrayed by women in the mortal realm. Even if this mist belonged to a wayward soul, Evander still didn’t trust it.

Something whispered in the air, making the hairs on Evander’s arms rise. He wore a black tunic and jacket, much more modest than what some of his brothers wore, and yet a chill skittered along his body, making him feel as cold as if he stood stark naked in the forest.

“What are you?” Evander asked, his soft voice ringing clear over the babbling river.

The eerie whispers continued, intensifying and rising, and only then did Evander realize it was… music. A haunting melody sung from a grieving soul. He’d only heard a handful of souls sing their grief; most screamed or wept or wailed.

But this… This was beautiful. Striking. Each note triggered something powerful inside his chest. He drew in a breath, his eyes stinging, though he didn’t know why.

“Let me help you.” Evander drew closer, his feet now planted on the very edge of the bank. Any farther, and he would have to wade into the stream itself. He extended an arm, and the singing abruptly stopped.

The disembodied woman solidified further until she resembled a rippling silver statue. She wore a thin gown, almost as sheer as a nightgown, and her long, dark hair floated around her. Her eyes were luminescent enough for Evander to believe she probably had blue or green eyes in her mortal form, though he couldn’t make out the color in her spirit form.

But he didn’t need to. Even like this, she was quite lovely.

Or perhaps it had just been too long since he had seen a soul’s body. Most of them were spherical orbs, making it easier for him to keep to his task of shepherding them onward. If he had to look upon their mortal countenances like this, it would make his responsibilities that much more difficult.

Especially if they were all as beautiful as this one.