Shoulders collided, bodies stumbled. Yet as he approached, the crowd parted.

  Thana pushed the door open. Behind the bar, a heavyset man lifted his eyelids, his bloodshot, shadowed eyes struggling to follow the movement. His glassy gaze drifted to Thana before settling back on the glass he was wiping.

  “I’m looking for a woman who commands fire,” Thana said.

  “Maybe I know something, maybe I don’t,” the man muttered.

  “What do you want?”

  “Money.”

  A freezing draft swept through the room, making the lantern flames flicker. Thana’s palm widened, his fingers stretching as a reddish glow pulsed beneath his skin. His hand closed around the barman. The man’s ribcage buckled under the pressure.

  “Stop please!” he screamed.

  His fingers brushed the edge of the counter before slipping away. His gaze swept the room, jumping from face to face, searching for help. Some patrons shrank into themselves, desperately trying to melt into the shadows, while others cast frantic glances toward the exit. In a corner of the tavern, an old man raised his glass. The liquid sloshed, brushed the rim then he brought the cup to his lips.

  “Na’thul vekh’orha, ad’nem sul’kar… Rham’nash ek doth va’ah…”

  “If you value your life, tell me what you know.”

  The barman struggled, sweat pouring down his forehead.

  “Yes yes! She’s part of the royal guard! You’ll find her in the castle. Please, spare me!”

  Thana’s fingers tightened, and the body exploded. Blood splattered across the floor, seeping between the gaps in the wooden planks, while strips of flesh clung to the beams. The patrons screamed and rushed for the exit. Some stumbled, others slammed into tables, and the weakest curled up beneath them.

  The old man stopped in front of Thana. His fingers clutched at Thana’s tunic, then he dropped to his knees.

  “An’kara… You still walk among us.”

  Thana adjusted his collar and stepped through the door. At the center of the room, a fissure snaked between the floorboards. A maw burst open, revealing a forest of razor-sharp teeth. A viscous strand dripped down and splattered onto the floor, forming blackened pools. A tongue, as wide as a tree trunk, slid out of the gaping mouth.

  The stench of rotting flesh filled the air. A woman doubled over, one hand clamped over her mouth. A man gasped in shallow breaths before a spasm tore a stream of bile from his throat.

  The tongue coiled around a man and tightened. A thin trickle of blood slid from his lips and nostrils. The tongue hurled him into the air, and the maw swallowed him whole.

  A man leveled his blade at the horror.

  “Come on, monster!” he spat.

  The tongue slammed into the floor, pulverizing a table. He brought his sword down, tearing away a chunk of flesh. The creature roared, a rumble so powerful it made the walls shake.

  “I got you, you bastard!” he shouted.

  It lunged at him, and the impact burst his chest apart.

  A woman rushed for the exit, but the moment her foot touched the ground, she stumbled.

  “No… no… please!”

  The appendage wrapped around her waist and flung her backward. Her head struck the wall. Her vision shattered into bursts of light, then went dark. Everything faded to black.

  The old man raised his arms.

  “An’kara… Your judgment is perfect.”

  The tongue fell upon him and devoured him. A crack—then nothing.

  Outside, Thana advanced toward a massive door banded with iron. Four soldiers stood guard before the entrance. One of them, his face half-hidden beneath his helmet, stepped forward to block his path.

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  “Are you lost, stranger?” one of them called.

  “I’m looking for a woman who controls fire.”

  “We don’t answer questions from strangers. You don’t belong here. Go back where you came from,” a second guard cut in.

  A smile brushed Thana’s lips as he stepped forward.

  “Stop right there,” a third soldier growled.

  “I don’t need your permission.”

  Blades leapt from their scabbards.

  “You won’t go any farther,” their leader threatened.

  The first attacker lunged and brought his sword down, severing Thana’s arm. A geyser of blood splashed across the cobblestones.

  “It hurts so much,” Thana murmured, a twisted smile on his lips.

  The next guard drove his sword into Thana’s stomach, the blade sinking all the way to the hilt. The last hurled his spear, the steel tip piercing Thana’s shoulder and slamming him to the ground.

  “He’s completely insane!”

  His companions burst out laughing.

  Thana picked up his severed arm and pressed it against the stump.

  Filaments coiled around the bone, weaving muscle and nerve together. Where there had only been a bloody stump, skin closed over itself, leaving an intact arm behind.

  “That’s impossible,” one of them whispered.

  Thana gripped the shaft of the spear and tore it free. The steel tip slid out of his flesh, leaving a gaping wound that sealed itself at once.

  “Now… where were we?”

  Thana slipped a hand beneath his coat. A shiver ran up his arm as his fingers brushed a cold, smooth surface. They closed around a green lantern. Behind the tinted glass, glowing red veins pulsed.

  “Tick, tock… Tick, tock…” Thana whispered.

  Around the lantern, the air trembled.

  “Not yet,” he murmured.

  It began to hum, releasing a reddish light that spiraled outward. Three guards were snatched away. Their flesh puckered, twisted, then vanished into the object. The fourth collapsed, hands shaking, fingers desperately clawing at the stone.

  “Please… Protect me. Let the light keep me safe…”

  “I’m looking for a woman who controls fire,” Thana said.

  The guard shook his head, eyes blurred with tears.

  The lantern’s glow intensified, casting a shadow across the cobblestones. It slid toward him, then engulfed him.

  “Speak.”

  His head snapped back, and his iris ignited with a spectral red glow.

  “Her name is Iskra… She’s… in the castle… on the seventh floor.”

  Cracks split open along his arms and legs, oozing black smoke that curled in tendrils toward the lantern. Soon, he was nothing more than a shattered assembly of bones and strips of skin. A final flash tore through the air, then, with a sigh, he was drawn in.

  “Always insatiable,” Thana murmured.

  He slipped the object beneath his coat and entered the castle. A servant, arms laden with linens, bumped into a clay vase and nearly sent it crashing to the floor. He caught it just in time before hurrying away.

  “Move faster, we have to put everything away before he arrives!” a woman whispered urgently.

  A young boy stumbled under the weight of a tray piled with dishes.

  “Careful!” another murmured, catching him just in time.

  Farther down the corridor, an old man in an apron hurried to extinguish a lantern.

  “Put out the ones in the back too,” he whispered.

  A servant carrying a basket of fruit appeared around a corner and collided with Thana. The impact threw him backward. The moment he hit the ground, convulsions wracked his body. A strangled rattle escaped his lips as a dark liquid seeped between his teeth.

  Thana pulled a leather pouch from his pocket. He pinched a handful of dust and blew it into the air. A guard jerked, then collapsed, his hand clawing uselessly for his halberd. Farther on, a maid dropped her tray; porcelain shattered into a thousand pieces on the marble floor.

  One by one, they fell. Their skin stiffened into wax, their breaths choked into rattles, and their bodies curled inward.

  Thana climbed the staircase and reached the seventh floor. His fingers brushed the stone, which shuddered beneath his touch as his body sank into it.

  He emerged inside a chamber. A scent lingered in the air, blending the smell of abandoned linens with melted wax.

  He continued on his way, slipping from one room to the next. Then, at the end of a corridor, a half-open door let a faint glow spill out. A man lay asleep, slumped on a canopied bed, his chest rising with each breath. Suddenly, a rain of blades burst forth. Three pierced his skull, while the others buried themselves in his torso, arms, and legs.

  “Not bad you spotted me,” Thana said.

  Around him, blades hovered in the air.

  “Your power is fascinating,” he admitted, a crooked smile on his lips.

  The man finally opened his eyes; his black pupils gleamed.

  “Who are you?” he demanded.

  “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  The knives shot forward. The impact hurled him backward, pinning him to the wall.

  “What do you want?” the man roared.

  “I’m looking for Iskra.”

  “What do you want with her?”

  “She’s going to accomplish something in the future that I won’t like. I have to kill her before it happens.”

  “You’d better worry about your own fate.”

  The blades whirled, shredding muscle and tendon. But his body kept advancing, pushing through the steel.

  “Unfortunately for you,” Thana said, “you’re the one who’s going to die.”

  The spikes shot forward, pierced straight through his torso, and burst out the other side, continuing on into the stone.

  “You’ll have to do better than that.”

  “What are you?” he whispered.

  Thana placed his hand on the man’s forehead.

  “Where is Iskra’s chamber?” he asked.

  “It’s room seven hundred and twenty-nine, but she’s not there.”

  “Where is she?” Thana pressed.

  “She’s on a mission… She won’t be back for a week.”

  “That’s inconvenient,” he murmured.

  Thana seized his lantern. In an instant, light surged over the man, and his body was drawn in.

  He crossed the threshold of room seven hundred and twenty-nine. A pale light slid along the walls. On the desk sat an inkwell, a thin trail of dried ink streaking the wood. Crumpled, scribbled pages lay scattered about. He picked them up and flipped through them administrative reports. And there, set aside, a hairbrush with strands of brown hair caught in its bristles.

  “That could be useful,” he said.