Ashes of Chaos (Legacy of the Nine Realms #2) - Amelia Hutchins Page 0,138
on the side of an enormous cliff, stretching until the mountain opened up, revealing the endless sky. Sacrificed humans still sat on them, long forgotten with moss covering their bones.
I exhaled, stepping further into the village, watching the torches come to life, exposing the hanging bodies now little more than bones. My heart thundered in my chest as ravens gave flight, filling the sky with their shadows as Knox turned, staring back at me with a dark, sinister smile.
“They don’t want you here either, Aria. Interesting, isn’t it?” Knox asked, searching my face before he turned, staring at the angry birds who squawked as feathers rained down from their flight. My eyes studied them, noting that they were corpses. Raven corpses. “Welcome to the Valley of the Dead; home to the Hecate witch line, or those who tried to live without their Hecate name to keep them alive. Hiding couldn’t even save them from the monsters who wanted them destroyed.”
Chapter Forty-Six
We walked through an overgrown meadow flowing with poppy flowers that created a beautiful splash of color to offset the greenery. A deep sense of dread rolled through me, and the altars became fewer, the closer we got to the village. I left the trail without warning, moving toward one altar, needing to know what was on it, and why someone had made it.
I paused before a large, stone slab etched in ancient language around the edges. Pulling the moss away, I studied the symbol for male and firstborn son. My gaze lifted to the petite form that held a decayed babe, molded in place by the moss that had covered him.
Tears pricked my eyes and regret flooded through me. Senseless deaths never felt right. Especially when our grandmother had cursed us because of some fortune told long ago.
“What’s it say?” Knox asked, causing me to jump, his voice catching me off-guard.
“They’re male altars, reserved for male children of Hecate witches, but they’re all wrong. The poppy seeds keep the dead here, luring them to remain so the altar would be worthless. The sage is common, and it should be Palo Santo, which would purify the spirit. Mixing rosemary and sage would give them masculine energy since they’re male. This is just normal sage, which isn’t strong enough for the ceremony to send the deceased to another womb able to offer them life.”
“There are hundreds of them, witch. Maybe they used them as sacrifices instead of worrying about carrying them into the next life.”
“That is blasphemy.” I turned, glaring at him as I laughed soundlessly. “You find everything we do evil, don’t you?”
“Every single thing,” he admitted, a chill filling his tone.
“Am I evil when I’m naked with you?” I asked, slowly stepping forward, taunting him. “Or when I have your cock between my lips, does that too, feel evil? When your blood pumps through your veins and the sweat cools upon our bodies, do you think what we shared was evil?” His eyes dropped to my lips, and a sardonic smile lifted his.
“Do I think when I fuck you, that you could be something evil sent to lure me into a trap? Absolutely Aria,” he whispered huskily. “Witches are sexual beings, who often more times than not, lure men to their deaths with the promise of pleasure their magic pussies deliver to us.”
“If I am so evil, then end it, King Karnavious. Put us both out of our misery. Come on. Take my head and be done with it. I’m tired of you and your hatred of me.”
“Oh, Aria, you don’t get to die on me.” His jaw clenched at my words, his eyes slowly searching mine as silent tears filled them.
“Someday, you’re going to realize that you’re the evil one and not me,” I swallowed, glaring at him before I snorted softly, moving to the next altar, scraping off the moss, then moving to the next.
I slipped back to the trail, cleaning my hands off before I stopped dead in my tracks at the sign marking the town. Instead of welcoming visitors, it warned to ‘get the fuck out of here’ with death runes.
“We’re really not supposed to be here,” I muttered, groaning before my attention moved to the first house.
Huge claw marks had severed the protection wards written upon the wooden door. The hair on my nape stood as a chill wrapped around me, tightening in my throat as sweat beaded on my brow. I balled my hands into fists and canted my head to the side,