Page 12 of The Iron Vow

“Then perhaps we should stop wasting time with pointless sentiment,” Grimalkin said, sauntering forward. Gazing around at us all, the cat sniffed and twitched his tail. “I had thought a path had already been chosen,” he commented. “There is no use in lamenting the unknown, or what cannot be. Conversely, Forgotten King,” he added, narrowing his eyes at Keirran, “I amneverwrong. The Nightmare King must be dealt with, one way or another. If this ancient library truly holds the secrets of Evenfall, then perhaps it contains the secret to defeating him, as well.”

“And if it doesn’t?” Keirran challenged him.

“Then going there is still a better plan than rushing in blind and hoping to hit something along the way.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Puck sighed. “That’s how my plans always go.”

After a fitful rest, we left the tower, following Nyx through a forest that continuously mumbled or whispered words that were just faint enough to be audible. I lost track of the times I thought I heard my name somewhere in the trees. Gradually, the undergrowth began to thin, until the forest eventually ended at the edge of what I could only assume were the Grave Lands. As Keirran had said, they were a flat, barren expanse with rocky outcroppings jutting from the earth like obsidian shards. The grass was dead and withered, and the few trees here were bent, twisted, and bare of leaves. Scattered throughout the plain, the skeletons of giant creatures poked from the ground like the remains of dinosaurs.

“Well, this is cheery,” Puck remarked. “You know, I think I saw a picture of this place under the definition of the wordsdismalanddepressing.”

“It’s called the Grave Lands,” Keirran said. “Were you expecting butterflies and balloons?”

“Ah, you jest, princeling, but that would probably be even more terrifying.”

Movement flickered among the rocks, and some kind of canine skeleton creature went trotting across the stony landscape. It paused and observed us with hollow eye sockets, the bones of its body bleached completely white, before it turned and hurried off. Its bony paws made faint clicking sounds over the rocks, until it slipped behind a boulder and disappeared.

We kept walking. The terrain didn’t change over the next couple hours, the blasted, barren landscape continuing on. It wasn’t until we walked past a field that vented steam from somewhere below the cracked earth that we saw something different.

The ruins of an ancient town, broken walls and crumbling watchtowers silhouetted against the horizon greeted us as we left the steaming plateau. From a distance, there were no lights, no columns of smoke, no smells or sounds or signs of life anywhere past the wall. This place, like many others before it, seemed abandoned.

Keirran glanced at Nyx. “Is this the sunken city?”

“I...don’t know.” The Evenfaery frowned as she observed the sprawling ruins. “Itwasa city, once. I seem to remember...lots of statues.”

“Oh, and let me guess.” Puck snorted. “Some of them came to life.”

Nyx shook her head. “Not here,” she said, completely serious. “You’d have to go to the village in the Staring Forest to experience that. Though I’d recommend you have quick reflexes—they come to life only when you’re not looking, and they move very fast.”

“Ah, you know what? That’s okay.” Puck shuddered. “I will be avoiding the ‘I’ll never sleep again’ town.”

As we drew closer to the ruined gates, the top of the watchtower seemed to move, a ripple flowing across the roof like a beast alerted to something’s presence. Looking up, we saw the tower was covered in dozens of crows, silently watching us with beady eyes as we passed beneath.

“Oh, hey there!” Puck raised an arm in a cheerful wave. “My friends, how’s it going? See anything interesting? Any good gossip lately?”

The crows stared at him in baleful silence. Puck sniffed. “Guess they haven’t heard anything juicy.”

We ducked beneath the gate, entering a broken city of ruined stones, shattered roads, and half-crumbled buildings. Skeletal structures rose into the air, some of them seeming to defy gravity as they loomed over us. I glanced between the rooftops and caught sight of a large structure that, for all intents and purposes, looked straight-up like a wizard’s tower.

And like Nyx had said, the city was filled with statues. Stone figures, most of them broken and unrecognizable, stood on every corner, limbs and heads lying in the weeds. But even their numbers were small compared to the true residents of this place.

The crows. They were everywhere. Clusters of them perched on rooftops, on walls and pillars and exposed beams. They sat on headless statues or peered down from broken windows, muttering to each other. The air was filled with the sounds of grinding beaks and ruffling wings. Glassy black eyes watched our every move.

“I remember this place now,” Nyx said. We had reached a square, surrounded by broken towers and the shells of buildings. An ancient fountain stood in the center, stagnant water filling the pool at the bottom. “I believe it was called Cruach at one point, though the Cruach I remember had fey living there.”

Keirran, watching the clusters of birds perched overhead, narrowed his eyes. “Were there always this many crows hanging around?”

“Hey, there’s nothing wrong with crows,” Puck said. “Crows and ravens get a bad rap from mortals. Have you noticed in every spooky movie there’s that ominous shot of the lone crow cawing from the trees?”

“Yes,” Ash said dryly. “Must be that whole portent-of-death thing.”

Keirran, still staring at the birds, shook his head. “I don’t like the way they’re watching us,” he muttered. “I don’t think these are normal crows—”

A section of crows perched on the corner of a building launched themselves into the air with a flurry of guttural cries. I jumped, then watched as the flock spiraled above the rooftops and began to descend toward us. We tensed, hands falling to weapons, as the crows swarmed the top of the fountain, cawing, wings and talons flailing, trying to find a spot to perch. For a moment, I couldn’t see anything through the mass of flapping wings and feathers. Then, the cluster of birds seemed to fuse together into one. Bodies stilled, voices died, and a creature turned toward us atop the fountain. A lanky, humanoid crow, its arms ending in scaly talons, spread its dark wings for balance atop the stones and tilted its head at us, beady eyes sharp and curious.

“Food?”

Its raspy and guttural voice sent a warning tingle skittering up my spine. The eyes of the crow were bright with hunger. It shifted on the rocks, long talons leaving white gashes in the stone as it edged closer, opening and shutting its beak with a snap.

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