A Court of Ash and Fire

Chapter Three

"What is it girl?"

Fleetfoot ignored Aelin, continuing to dig into a mound of snow. Aelin had found her loyal hound with Rowan, who was helping to rebuild a public library. After a hello kiss to her husband, she had taken Fleetfoot with her into a nearby forest for a walk. 

Aelin breathed warmth into her palms, shivering. Somehow, the Terrasen's pine forest were even colder than the snow-dusted streets of Orynth. The pretty woodland was located just outside her city, needles slashing across the pure snow. 

Now, the golden dog had found something buried in the midst of the pine trees, currently digging at the ground with the ferocity of a lion.

Edging closer, Aelin dropped to her knees and sent a blast of flame into the snow, burning it to nothing but steam. There, in the glistening powder, lay a large stone. It was flat and smooth, a pretty pale black colour. At its crown was a small insignia; a mountain with three stars.

Aelin felts a weird tugging in her middle, as her magic wanted her to touch the stone. Feel it beneath her fingers.

"What do you think it means?" Aelin whispered, brushing her fingers over the delicate etching. Fleetfoot woofed softly. Aelin leaned a little closer and frowned. "Wait. This is written in Wyrdmarks."

Indeed, under the strange symbol, were three rows of the devilish little symbols. Aelin went to trace her fingers over the marks when the pad of her finger split open on a sharp edge. She hissed, drops of her blood dripping into the Wyrdmarks.

Suddenly, the mountain insignia began to glow with a bright white light. Aelin scrambled back on all fours, and Fleetfoot growled low in her throat. Her glowing blood seeped through the Wrydmarks, filling them with white light.

A sudden, crippling pain tore through her stomach, a scream working out from her throat. She clawed at her torso, burning and burning and not knowing how to make it stop-

Aelin opened her mouth to yell for help, when a blinding light enveloped her, coated her, and dragged her into a portal.

~

"Who is it?" Beron hissed, a large sword already in his palm.

"I don't know, Rhys said, drawing Illyrian blades from thin air. Azriel held Truth-Teller, and Mor, Amren, and Cassian all held knives. A dagger was hallway out of the sheath strapped to my thigh when the doors to the meeting room burst open on a gust of darkness, sending us all slamming into the window.

I bought my arms up to cover my head as I collided with the glass, which cracked dangerously upon impact. I winced, by back feeling like it was going to break as everyone shot to their feet, weapons drawn. I stood a little slower, putting a hand to my head. A streak of blood trickled from my temple.

There, in the doorway, was one of the most horrible creatures I had ever seen. At first glance, it was pure smoke and shadows, but grey and slimy skin peeked out between folds of black. It's eyes were hollow and black, staring at us with a hunger that made my stomach lurch.

A spear of darkness shot towards us, and I blocked the High Lords and their associates with a shield of hard air. It shuddered under impact, and I flinched.

"Feyre, are you alright?" Rhys asked, his voice hard.

I nodded, concentrating on keeping the shield in place. But with every bone-shaking blow, my powers weakened. The other High Lords added their own magic to mine, strengthening it. But it still fractured.