Page 1 of Ember and Eclipse
Chapter I
Shewasfacetoface with a crocodile.
The only things visible above the murky water were the top of his broad head and the middle of his ridged back. He stared unblinkingly at her, as still as a stone statue. One usually didn’t even know the creatures were there until they struck. Despite their astonishing size, they moved like phantoms through the water, undetected, until it was too late.
Rel lifted her face completely out of the water to take a breath, her chin bumping against the crocodile’s snout as she did.
“I’ll never get used to you sneaking up on me. All this room, and you have to be right here?”
She affectionately pressed two fingers between his nostrils. When she hadn’t seen him on the shores, she knew there was a chance of him finding her when she was in the water. Yet she was always surprised by his sudden appearance.
His gaze held unfathomable depths, an entire universe. She had looked plenty of monsters in the eye before, but Aloysius wasn’t one of them. Even though rows of thick, sharp teeth were set into his pointed mouth just beneath the surface, she trusted the creature in some way that defied all reason. But she also respected the very real threat that he was. This particular swampbelongedto him. It was only with his permission that she was allowed to enter it unharmed. She had a sense he respected bravery, and if she were any less so, he wouldn’t welcome her in his territory.
Finally, his opaque eyelids covered his ancient, marbled eyes as he effortlessly sank beneath the water again. His gray and brown-speckled skin allowed him to almost immediately disappear. Rel only felt a ripple of movement as he swam past her.
Letting out a long exhale, she swam the way she’d come with the reason she got in the water bobbing behind her—grood reeds. They had become a staple of her diet since she’d been in the wetlands. Both the stalks and meaty center were edible. They could be added to soups and salads or blackened to eat alone. Rel hadn’t intended to do any swimming, but when she spied the tops of them breaking the surface, she couldn’t help herself.
She pulled herself out of the much deeper and darker waters when she reached the shelf. Algae caught in rivulets of water rushed down her warm copper skin as she rose like a wild creature from its depths. The speckles of silt and debris that intermingled with her freckles and caught in strands of her rust-colored hair made her appear like she was of the swamp herself.
The bank was a muddy mess, but the saturated ground didn’t bother her. She actuallylikedthe way it felt as her feet sank into it and the mud pressed between her toes.
“I still have to hunt down some storm mint before it’s gone for the season,” she said to no one in particular. A buzzing sound joined the noise of the surrounding forestry as if in agreement.
Grabbing her shift, she turned toward the swamp to watch its surface. There was no movement, but she could feel eyes on her. Undoubtedly, more than one giant reptile was watching her from its depths. She slipped into the material—the thin fabric sticking to her and soaking through instantly.
Waving a silent goodbye to the concealed beasts, she placed the rest of her clothes and haul in the basket that already held an abundance of plump, reddish mushrooms. Barefoot, she began the trek back to her dwelling.
The route was one she knew well. She would know it even blindfolded, just by the scent of the varying flora that lined the path, and the subtle tells of the earth beneath her feet. The moss here was exceptionally spongy and soft, and the dirt was rich and silky from the nutrients of the multiple water holes nearby.
When she came to an unremarkable batch of cattails and high grass minutes later, she stooped to part the dense stalks. Her small boat with two oars was tied to a thick root, anchoring it in place. Placing her findings into the wooden vessel, she carefully boarded it and unknotted the rope.
In the distance, Rel could just make out the shadow of a structure through the mist that hung around it, shrouding it from being easily sighted. Her home sat on a dark isle, lording over this much larger swamp. The islet was the same elevation as the land behind it, seeming to have been cut away from it by time.
In a particularly dense patch of fog, she momentarily lost sight of everything, barely able to make out her hands on the oars. Once through, her home was there, high above the water. She slowed, guiding the vessel to one side of the rocky and dirt-compacted base.
She tied her boat to a section of stone that had been chipped away from the rest of the cliff. Placing her arm through the basket’s handle, she made sure everything was secure before looking up the length of the rock face. The only way to get to the land above was by using the rope ladder that was located on this side.
Climbing expertly up the ladder, even with the awkwardness of her bundle, she finally heaved herself over the edge. Lastly, she pulled up the rope, guaranteeing no one would be following her.
Not that she had seen a single soul since she had moved here.
Rel had been drawn deep into the wetlands a year ago like a witch bespelled. Even as she journeyed, she had to question what she was doing, but still, she tromped through the humid place. Emerald vines, jade moss, bright algae, and the gentle sway of the willows called her home.
The damp air doused her, vines crept and reached for her, and the energy of the swamp enveloped her. She followed the wilderness’ directions until she was shown the asymmetric structure centered on the isolated cliff. She knew then, without a doubt, that it was meant for her. The very terrain was enchanted, encumbered with ancient magic and untamed wildness.
She was meant to be here.
When she had figured out her way onto the islet and to the front of the home, she knocked and called out. The place had an air of expectancy, like it had been waiting for her all this time. The door was unlocked and swung open easily, beckoning her to enter. Despite the layer of dust, crumbling leaves, and thick spiderwebs, the cottage looked like a home that had once been lovingly cared for. It also had a sense of lingering magic that drifted in the rays of sunlight and sat tucked away on sooty shelves.
A witch had built and inhabited it, Rel knew without a doubt. But the place had seemingly been abandoned. She stood on the brink of the threshold for a long time before willing herself to step inside.
The moment she did, she knew this was the only place that would ever feel like home.
Rel still got that inexplicable feeling when she opened the door now.
The central room was filled with an overstuffed settee and chair, shelves crammed with leather tomes, and glass jars of various shades of purples and teals. An intricately tiled fireplace was the focal point, and even with the heat, she used it often.
Some of the belongings were from the previous witch, but there were many additions of her own. Plants she had nursed back to health hung from the ceiling or took over shelves. Most had no sense of personal space, their tendrils reaching up the walls and spilling over their pots—tameless and unable to be contained. There were far more knives and books as well, both of which sat around in piles or tucked in the empty spaces she could find. Half-finished sewing projects, baskets that needed patching, and charmed torches were also here and there, organized only in a way that was chaotic at best, but made complete sense to her.
