Page 125 of Deadly Maiden

After drying the page with my sleeve, I shove back the chair and go to Kyvin. Leaning forward at the waist, I indicate his tattoo where it peeks from his tattered shirt.

“May I look?”

He places his book aside, stands up before me. “Yes,” he rasps.

“Okay. Thank you.”

It seems odd to do this, but I undo one more button on his shirt. There is nothing new to be found. Only that ornately written surname,Ashebelow his first name. It appears the very top button was ripped off at some point. So, did they mean theAshepart?

Kyvin Ashe. Wait.

To the right, another letter shows, but it’s written in lighter mauve-to-red ink. The trace of pinkish tattoo ink shows faintly but from this close I can read it. I suspect the color change was deliberate.

I stare at the new letter. It’s anR.

Asher not Ashe. A rare name whether first name or surname.

The only Asher I know of is…

“Asher Stryke. The brother of the Chained King.” I whisper those words through my hand where I’ve covered my mouth. As if anyone else will hear me.

Kyvin…or Asher, does not react.

“You can sit again. Read if you want?” I gesture for him to sit, and he does so.

He has no understanding of any of this. Why then? Why did they choose to make him an undead then send him to me? Is it even him? I might be wrong.

“Fuck. I need to read that diary.”

The second page of the message sticks to the first but I eventually peel them apart.

Yes, that is Asher. He is, or was, Asher Stryke, the brother of our king, Jannik Stryke.

In case you don’t know of his life, he died in the early days of our war against Zardrake. He was a good man, and wouldhave been a great ruler, if Jannik was not already on the throne. The king of Zardrake, Madlin Darsh, is however not a good man. If he still reigns, be wary of him and his queen Ruelle.

“I have noticed.” Odd to be getting parental advice from the grave. Landos would have approved. I frown, sigh, wipe away the obligatory tear and read onward.

In these pages, toward the end, you will discover our attempts to utilize what we called dark matter. It can be deadly. Take precautions. Read our words before doing anything yourself.

“Too late.” I smile and trace the familiar signature below.

Love, Aislinn and Sabre Gothschild

So, they called darkthing matter by the term dark matter. Did Rorsyd overhear it being discussed back then? The labels are so similar it seems likely.

“Darkthing is better. Agreed Anathema?” He materializes below the desk, sniffs my feet then leaps onto the desk and curls up on the book stack. “They told me not to mess with stuff like you. Too late, hey.” He levers open one eye, sends a piercing look, then closes that eye and snuffles at his paws where they poke his face. “I don’t regret it at all.”

I turn to the first page of the actual diary writing then lean back in my chair to study Kyvin. Make that Asher. “I still don’t know why,” I muse. “Just an experiment? I doubt it.” I should skip to the end of the diary to find out the answer. I’m a fastreader though. A glance at the writing reveals most of it is quite legible. Thank the gods.

Decision made. I’ll skim and skip through to the good bits. Leave a bookmark of some sort if anything piques my interest.Yes.

I begin to read. The beginning is dated only a few years prior to their deaths.

The hours flit by. I have a late breakfast. Some of this makes for alarming imagery. The things my parents did trouble me. I leave a trail of amateur bookmarks created from torn paper.

Lunch outside with Kyvin, overlooking Slaedorth valley. Then more reading. More damn reading. My butt begins to ache.

No matter how startling the revelations, I keep reading,churn churningthrough the pages. My eyes feel like they’re made of dried-out parchment and filled with grit, but I need to know what I’m dealing with.

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