Ashes of Chaos (Legacy of the Nine Realms #2) - Amelia Hutchins Page 0,139

reading the warning. Magic was in play; cold, lifeless magic, judging by my reaction to it.

Beware the Forbidden Witch. She, who is of Hecate’s womb, is unwanted within this home. Blessed are the forgotten and those that have strayed, for in their darkest day, they found their truest way. May we remain forgotten, may we remain sane, for fear of the mad witch who bathed the realms in its darkest, wicked ways.

“Jesus, fuck! What the hell is this place?” I asked the door as if it was going to answer me.

“It’s the Valley of the Dead, in the Dark Mountains that lay between realms. Your realm and mine, Aria,” Knox whispered against my ear, causing me to jump again. “We’re in the middle where people came to escape persecution for being together. Couples who had fallen in love or those who wished for a new beginning without the war destroying them,” he explained solemnly.

“What the hell? Did you take creeper lessons from Greer? Put a bell on it!” I snapped, hating that he’d scared me right out of my skin. I leveled him with a chilling look, and he laughed softly as I turned back, frowning at the sign. “Who is the Forbidden Witch?” I asked softly as his heated breath fanned my neck.

“That’s the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” He kissed my neck, forcing me to step away from his lips. Turning to face him, I glared. “What does it say?”

“You can’t read it?” I asked, feeling a small sense of victory.

“No. It precedes me.”

“It says, beware the prick that plays thy heart, for he is a loser of the lost art. Though his prick is thick, and sometimes it plays nice, it comes too fast, with strings attached, and has a hefty price. Thou shall not let your guard down, for the moment that you do, he’ll scare you and won’t prepare you for the horrors awaiting you. The man is broken, his grief outspoken, and such a lost cause that his ghosts still haunt his pathetic ass, for only they would welcome his cold, dead heart, blah, blah, blah. Then end.”

“Does it indeed? Because that word right there,” he said, pointing to the sign, “that’s your family name in your native language, isn’t it?”

“I thought you couldn’t read it?” I countered.

“I can’t, but you just confirmed what I thought it was. Should I kiss you as a thank you?” he asked.

“No, does it look like I need a kiss? My face is dented in, asshole,” I frowned, moving toward the side of the house to peer in through the window.

I stared at my reflection, wincing at the damage. Exhaling, I caught Knox watching me with an unguarded look in his eyes. He didn’t enjoy seeing me hurt. That much was obvious. Although, he hadn’t helped the situation or offered to rectify it. Men sucked with their bipolar mood swings that changed faster than the weather in Texas during the spring.

Using my good arm, I rubbed away the dust from the window. Cupping my hands and peering through the ancient glass, I noted an altar, an overturned table, and grimoires that were little more than dust-covered leather bindings now. Whatever happened here, it had happened a long time ago.

I studied the cottages, all built with the same thatched roofs in varying states of decay. There was no scent of rotting food or wood, only the decomposition of bodies and earth. Moss blanketed the roofs and outer walls of the small square cottages.

The silence of the place was deafening, and the deeper we walked into the village, the more profound it became. We were in a site long forgotten. It was an abandoned beauty left in ruins that lay untouched by the world outside the high stone walls.

We passed more doors covered in the thick green moss, and I zeroed in on the warning and claw marks that once again marred the doors. I tilted my head, trying to make out the language etched into them, but came up empty.

“What language is that one?” I asked quietly, trying not to disturb the silence of this place, and yet needing to know what language marked the door on the largest house.

“Mine. Do you want to trade information?” he asked, smirking while he waited for my answer.

“No, it’s not worth it. You’d just use what I’d tell you to attack my people.”

I stepped closer to the cottage, running my fingers over the design etching into it. I yanked my hand away as