From Iron and Ruin

Whatever it Takes.

Chapter 41: Whatever it takes.

It wasn't long before the golden glow that had surrounded my return to Aoak had faded into something darker.

The real reason I had been called here. Not Aviana Birchwood, but Seeker Birchwood. Someone that was far more important than a long-lost daughter. Someone who was needed.

Asha'da, that was a lot of responsibility.

Galen walked with me throughout Aoak as the Legion got to work. I could hear Gwen shouting from the walls, her voice caught on the wind. Halon had gotten up before dawn, leaving only a sniping comment before he had gone out into the town.

"You're being attacked because of me," I told Galen, a hand resting on the hilt of my Alelang. "And I am sorry for that."

"Halon told me a little," Galen admitted. "An old enemy of yours."

"Old friend." People greeted Galen warmly.

"Even worse," Galen steered towards the grave-yards. "I—well, Halon spoke to me a little about some letters."

"The letters that never arrived?" Something was wrong about the air near the grave-yard. Even though the sun shone above, mist clung to the dirt paths that lined the graves. Most people in Aoak went into the sea with their loved one's bodies, but some chose the earth. "I sent letters."

"I believe you," Galen assured. Ahead, Taelan and Matthaeus waited for us. Both men stood at either post at the gate, but they tilted their bodies towards one another. "And we sent you letters. I promise you, we did."

"I believe that." Legion soldiers, who waited at the grave-yard, bowed their heads as I neared. Taelan pushed himself away from the wall, hands tucked comfortably behind him. "But it makes little sense. Neither side received a letter."

Galen replied swiftly. "I can't imagine people would have been too fussed about delivering letters to Aoak's Half-Bloods."

"Ah." That made sense. It didn't make it easier, though. The thought of those letters being just discarded, or lost somewhere. Even worse, the thought that someone would have opened those letters and read them. Read my little adventures in Dratlan. The later letters where my hurt was spilled onto the page—why won't you return my letters?

"Seeker Birchwood." Taelan greeted me softly,"And Mayor Birchwood. Your sacred soil bears the marks of disturbance."

"Nirani?" I asked, eyeing the grave-yard. Soldiers were marking soil methodically, their mood sober. I guessed they weren't happy with disturbing the final resting place.

"I think we have one way of confirming that," Taelan said gently. "Come inside Aviana and confirm my suspicions."

"How can she...?" Confused, Galen lingered at the gate.

I stepped onto the grave-yard's well-kept path. It had been weeded and cleaned, with the grass verges trimmed. I followed Taelan to a mound of dirt beside a scooped out grave. Before I even grew close to it, my hands sparked silver.

The silver light danced against the grass and the earth. I closed my fingers tight, perturbed. "A new type of Nirani? Rising with decayed bodies?"

Coldness washed up my veins.

Taelan touched the earth curiously. "A strange and dark magic must have been used. Nirani are not from Cadelith- they are warped, but... if the Insurgent can use bodies to make the dead rise from the earth, then he will have boosted his army to a frightening degree."