Dawn of Cobalt Shadows (Burning Empire Book 2) by Emma Hamm (best e ink reader for manga .txt) 📕

ground in front of their hearth. She wasn’t someone who needed a castle to keep her happy.

The dragon inside her lifted its head, sniffing the air and trying to figure out what kind of person waved to them. But the cold shards of the air stifled any scent. It was as if there were no one else on the planet but Sigrid and the snow that surrounded her.

“Just a few more steps,” she muttered through chattering teeth. “A few more and then you’ll be there. They’ll give you food, water, maybe a fire. It doesn’t matter, just anything that’s warm and comfortable for a few moments.”

Her toes ached with every step. She couldn’t even feel her fingers anymore, and then there was the way her face felt tight in the frigid air. Would she lose some of her fingers? She’d heard of people losing them before in such cold weather.

Finally, she was close enough that the figure should be able to see her. Lifting her voice, Sigrid called out, “I’m here!”

The figure didn’t react. Instead, they kept waving as if she wasn’t right in front of them.

“Hello?” she asked tentatively.

Again, no reaction changed as the figure continued to wave.

“Oh, no.” Sigrid’s teeth chattered harder and she made the final few steps to the “figure” in the distance who was supposed to be her savior.

She reached out and patted a hand to the part of the short, squat tree with only a single branch to its name. “Just you, old friend. Is that it? No one else?”

Sigrid sniffed loudly, swallowing her emotions and the distinct need to cry. The tears would freeze on her cheeks, and then where would she be? She wouldn’t be able to think, breathe, or even dash away the tears, because they would then freeze on her blackened fingertips that she was already certain she was going to lose.

Looking up into the sky, she tried to slow her ragged breaths. “There’s nothing you can do now,” she told herself. “Just keep moving. One more step.”

Her body didn’t want to move anymore. She couldn’t force herself to take one more step without resting for a little while. Sigrid slumped against the tree trunk and slid down it until her butt touched the ground.

There, that felt a lot better. She could think a little more clearly now that her lungs weren’t working overdrive to feed her pounding heart. She could stay here for a few more minutes and warm herself up.

Body heat had to count for something. She pulled her arms out of the jacket sleeves, tucking them against her heart where there was still a little heat left. If only there was a place out of the wind, then she was certain she could figure out a way to heat herself.

The tree branches rattled above her head. The wind whipped across the mountaintop. She couldn’t see if there was grass underneath all the snow, or if this was merely a barren wasteland of rocks and jagged stones.

Perhaps this was a pretty place once. She could believe that Earthen folk might have climbed to the heights just to see the view. Beyond the curtain of white, all of Wildewyn would be laid bare to her eyes.

She imagined the sight that the snow hid. It would be a glorious unveiling of emerald green and hundreds of rivers that snaked through the forests. Perhaps birds would burst into flight by a hunter who was making his way through the forest in search of something to feed his family.

Maybe even Beastkin could be hidden in that land. She might be able to see the home of the ancients, tucked away far from prying eyes.

What would they look like? She didn’t even know what to think. The legends said they were Beastkin just like her, but somehow, she thought they might not be. They were mythical creatures, stronger than any Beastkin alive. They couldn’t be just regular people who found themselves with a good bloodline.

They might be taller than everyone else. Or maybe, they were so beautiful they would make her eyes burn.

Would they have golden eyes? Eyes that made her heart ache with memories she’d tried so hard to forget?

A gust of wind blew snow in her eyes, making them water in tune with her thoughts. If they were so beautiful, she hoped they might give her a break and not make her cry any more than she already had.

“You have to get up,” she whispered to herself. “You can’t sit here and wait for death to claim you. Stand up, Sigrid.”

With laboring movements, Sigrid rolled onto her hands and knees.

“You’ve survived more than this. You can stand up. That’s all you have to do.”

The words were a lie. She couldn’t think of a time when she’d been so close to death, and so very alone. A sob wracked her lungs, but she refused to entertain the thoughts that beckoned her to lie down and accept her fate. It would be okay to die in a place like this, the thoughts whispered. No one would find her, and the tree was already here for the ceremonial rights. And hadn’t she already had them?

Perhaps this was the gods telling her that she should have died on that funeral pyre. Maybe this was their punishment for desecrating the old religion.

“No,” she grunted. “I will not die like this, today or any day.”

She heaved herself into a crouch, then forced herself to stand. A fire burned inside her from an ancient past that refused to die. She would not lie down and let death claim her, not when there was still fight inside her.

“Now, find a place to stay for the night. Dig a hole in the ground if you must. Dragons are resourceful. Beastkin know the land, Sigrid. Find something more than just self-pity.”

Had someone said the words to her before? She couldn't remember. They seemed to ring with a memory, but she couldn’t place it with any particular moment in her life. Had