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

go but forward. Sigrid glanced around for another passage, or some secret she hadn’t grasped in her first cursory glance.

Beside her, a strange club leaned against the wall. Bulbous at the end, carved with swirling runes, there had to be a reason for it. She reached out, picked it up, and hefted it in her hand.

Not quite as heavy as she imagined, but it would do the trick. Sigrid held it over her head and dipped it into the curtain of water. It parted around the club. A narrow opening in the falls appeared, just enough for her to get through without drenching herself in the process. She slipped through, pausing at the last second to toss the club back to the wall in case others were following her and needed to use the item.

She turned and surveyed the cavern beyond the waterfall. She was on a precipice. A single, long stretch of stone that arched from one side of the cavern to the other. Each side dipped so far down she could barely see the end, and even then, all she could see was ragged stones that would rip and tear at a falling body. If they survived the fall.

The center of the long stretch of stone bulged out, nearly in a perfect circle. There, six stone pillars stood in equal distance and a large, flat altar in the center. Small stones had been placed in a path to them, swirls and intricate painted pieces making the entire path seem slightly magical. Reflective pieces bounced light spots onto the walls.

Long vines had grown down the walls, lush and green. They swayed with a wind she couldn’t feel as she made her way toward the center.

The closer she got, the faster she realized there were people standing beside the stones. The humming sound, the song of the waterfall, was coming from them. Their mouths were open in a quiet song and their arms raised toward the sky.

A single woman stood at the flat altar, her head tilted back, dappled light reflecting on her face. In a way, the woman was familiar. Sigrid thought it was like looking at a reflection of herself.

The woman’s skin was much darker than Sigrid’s, burnished by the sun and worn down by years of work. Her face was heart-shaped, lovely bowed lips, with crow’s feet wrinkles spreading out from the corners of her eyes.

Long, white hair fell straight as the waterfall behind them. The ends touched the back of her knees, swaying only slightly as she breathed. A strip of leather wrapped around her torso, covering her breasts, while two other matching pieces fell from her waist in a makeshift skirt.

The dismissal of decorum didn’t bother Sigrid. This woman didn’t look like a barbarian, or if she did, Sigrid couldn’t see past the way her lips moved in time with an ancient chant that echoed in Sigrid’s own heart.

She forced her eyes to move away from the woman, to look at the other people who stood at the pillars.

Her gasp should have startled them, or made them falter in some way, but it didn’t. Their eyes remained closed and their shoulders squared.

Could they feel her eyes on them? Could they sense the way her gaze had sharpened and her mind had fractured?

These weren’t people, but they weren’t Beastkin either. Each of the women and men standing at a pillar were some kind of twisted version of the two. The woman nearest to her stood tall and strong on legs that bent the opposite direction, covered in a dusting of feathers. A man stood in the corner, lifting arms that ended in taloned hands like a vulture. Another’s face had elongated into that of a canine, while the rest of his body remained like a man.

What were these people? They weren’t Beastkin, not that she’d ever seen before. Beastkin were only beast or man. They weren’t some strange amalgamation of the two that created the monsters in front of her.

The quiet hum of song died down, drifting like fallen leaves until they touched the ground and then there was nothing left at all.

Sigrid felt her own breath slowing with theirs until a cumulative gasp escaped them all at once. The woman at the altar lowered her arms, opened icy blue eyes, and captured Sigrid’s gaze with her own.

She didn’t know what to expect. Would the woman shout and throw her off the edge for interrupting what was clearly a sacred ceremony? Would she be angry that Sigrid was here, or would she welcome her with open arms?

They stared at each other for long moments before the woman raised an arm and beckoned her forward.

“Come, child. Let me look at you.” Her voice was soft, like the first snow gently touching the earth.

She found herself moving toward the woman as if in a trance. Her feet were careful to follow only the path, until she stood in front of the strange Beastkin woman who must be the matriarch of all clans.

“Sigrid,” the woman said, pressing a hand against her own chest. “My name is Aslaug, matriarch of all clans.”

“A pleasure.” Sigrid dropped into a curtsey, even though she knew it would seem odd to them.

“You’ve traveled a long way to see us.”

“I didn’t really have a choice.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Aslaug smiled, and the wrinkles around her eyes grew deeper. “News of your deeds has reached even here. The woman who brought all clans of Beastkin together, after so many years apart. It is not a feat many could have achieved.”

“And yet, I am here. Not with them.” Sigrid glanced around at the others who remained at their pillars. One of the bird-like women smiled at her, while the man with the wolfen face gave her a nod. “I fear I am lost, Matriarch of all.”

“Why is that?”

“I have brought them together, and yet, I cannot control them. They grow more and more volatile every day. They forsake what makes us human, embracing only the