Songs of the Wicked Read online

  Songs of the Wicked

  C.A. Farran

  Copyright © 2021 by C.A. Farran

  All rights reserved.

  Sylvan Ink Press LLC

  This edition published in 2022

  Edited by Grey Moth Editing @greymothediting

  Map created with Inkarnate

  Cover Design: Franziska Stern @coverdungeonrabbit

  ISBN 9798985132700 (paperback)

  ISBN 9798985132724 (hardcover) | ISBN 9798985132717 (ebook)

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Scene Breaks created by azdigitaldesigns.etsy.com

  Chapter Headers created by JustPSD

  Content Warning

  This story contains content that might be troubling to some readers, including, but not limited to, depictions of and references to death, harm against animals and children, references to sexual assault, graphic depictions of violence, and sexually explicit content.

  For Lance, whose faith in me is limitless, and for my wildling, who makes me believe in magic.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Spring brought purple lupines back to the riverbank. A whisper of their sweet scent reached out as they swayed gently in the warm breeze. Dappled sun undulated along Aislinn’s goose-pebbled arms.

  She lay in the tall grass, clutching the earth like a lifeline. The dirt beneath her nails was an anchor when her body threatened to float away. The river drowned out the rasp and crackle of her lungs struggling with each inhale as light danced across the ripples, casting sharp beams of sunlight to kiss her face and broken body.

  Aislinn’s golden hair, once braided into a crown adorned with wildflowers, was torn from the scalp in some places. Blood trickled down her forehead, and her cheeks were tight from dried tears.

  Her lavender gown—the one she’d promised her sister she’d keep clean for the ceremony—was torn and bloodied, and each breeze that ghosted against her skin breathed through the tears in the silk. The ground beneath her was wet with blood, and the throbbing in her ribs from his knife as well as the pain between her legs had grown numb.

  This would have been her nineteenth season.

  Where were the gods? The ones the elders swore would protect her? They hadn’t come when he took her body. They hadn’t come when she begged for mercy.

  Aislinn let her head fall to the side, squinting through blurring vision until her eyes found the faint outline of a human shape.

  A hooded figure stepped out of the shadows, bearing unearthly darkness. The being’s shroud of black devoured the light around it, and a blanket of quiet wrapped around the forest.

  This was no god she’d ever prayed to.

  Death had come to claim her. Aislinn knew it in the farthest corners of her heart. Softly closing her eyes, she conjured a warm memory—running through this very forest with her sister Yera. Barefoot over soft moss and cool grass. She could almost hear Yera’s laughter as she resigned herself to her fate and took one last strangled breath. Tired of counting her heartbeats and clinging to the riverbank with desperate fingers, Aislinn relaxed her grip, letting go.

  * * *

  It was a curious thing, to look down on one’s own body. Aislinn watched, puzzled, as the hooded figure placed a gentle hand over the corpse that wore her face.

  Aislinn lifted a shaky hand to her hair, finding the plaited crown intact and free of blood. A curious thing, indeed. “Is that me? Is that... my body?”

  The stranger stood, turning. “Do you know what I am?” The voice was somehow both soft and hard. A gentle rush and a harsh scrape.

  The trees groaned and their leaves shook in a sharp breeze—a breeze that failed to meet Aislinn’s skin. Part of her wanted to believe this was her mind’s final moments, conjuring images as her body shut down, but Aislinn knew better.

  “You’re death,” she whispered.

  The figure lowered her hood to reveal long red hair in a simple plait running down her back. Her smooth skin held an unearthly glow, unmarred by time and nature, though there was nothing youthful in her forlorn expression. With her brows drawn over her amber eyes, she gave a short shake of her head. “Not exactly.” She pointed toward the body on the ground. “That is the face of death. I’m merely your guide.”

  Aislinn always believed there was more to life than the here and now. She wasn’t the most pious, especially by Ardenian standards. Her mother always said Aislinn’s father had returned to the earth, but she knew there was something after death. She could feel it in every hum of the wind. She didn’t believe in much, but she believed that her father wasn’t far. Wasn’t that enough?

  “It’s time to go now, Aislinn.” The girl twirled a lupine between her fingers, vibrant purple spinning to a blur. When Aislinn’s gaze fell to her hand, she dropped the poor flower to the ground.

  Why pick a flower only to leave it forgotten?

  “How do you know my name?”

  “I know much about you.”

  Aislinn’s hands fisted by her side. “That’s not an answer!”

  “It isn’t, is it?”

  Why was this strange girl speaking in riddles? Was it not enough to face her mortality? “Can you at least tell me your name?”

  The ghost of a smile hinted against her mouth. “Lark.”

  “Lark,” Aislinn said, testing the name on her tongue. She never thought death would come in the form of a fire-haired girl, hardly older than she, bearing a human name. Then again, she hadn’t thought she’d encounter death so soon.

  “It’s time.”

  Aislinn glanced at her broken body that still lay on the riverbank. “I’m not going anywhere.” She stepped back from Lark. “I want to go home.”

  If she’d known she’d never see her mothe
r again, perhaps she would have sat still while she braided her hair. Or she wouldn’t have shrugged out of her embrace. She should have told her sister, Yera, how much she’d always admired her, that she envied her smile. Not for its beauty but for the ease with which it came. There were many things Aislinn should have done, but instead, she’d run off after the ceremony, desperate for a moment alone before the wedding feast began.

  Lark remained silent, watching.

  “Do you see what he... did to me?”

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t undo it. All I can offer you is peace.” Lark held out a hand. “Please, let me help you.”

  Aislinn recoiled and stepped around Lark. Why couldn’t she feel the wind? Why couldn’t she smell the lupines, the river and its scent of rotting moss, earthy and comforting? She rubbed her arm, but felt no goose pebbles on her skin. It was as if her hands had fallen asleep—tingles of sensation—nothing tangible but over her entire body. She stumbled and landed on her knees next to her corpse. When she first looked upon it, she felt nothing. Now, her chest constricted with panic. It was her face, but it was all wrong. Like her features weren’t where they were meant to be. She’d only ever seen her face in a mirror, to see it like this—frozen in pain...

  “Tell me this is a dream.”

  Lark knelt across from her, adopting slow, careful movements. For a moment they remained in silence, the only sound the gentle rushing of the river.

  Aislinn squeezed her eyes shut, seeking the scent of this place she once considered home. Slowly, the soft florid scent of lupines filled her senses, the warm earthy smell of moss and dirt surrounded her. She opened her eyes and the aroma faded, but she held onto a hint of it.

  “You have questions, I understand that. But none of these questions will bring you the peace you seek, the peace you deserve, after everything you’ve suffered.” Lark’s amber eyes softened. “I can show you the way, but you have to come with me now.” Again she held out her hand.

  Aislinn glanced down at Lark’s hand, making no move to reach for her.

  “I know it’s daunting. But you need to trust me. Please.”

  Lark’s ethereal face had softened into an almost human expression. A soft realization dawned on Aislinn; anything was better than facing down her used and discarded body. The evidence of his crimes, still worn on her skin.

  Was it her choice? Could she choose to remain? There was nothing here for her. Not if she was dead. The only pieces left would be carried by those who remembered her.

  But memory was a powerful thing.

  Aislinn remembered her father’s laugh, the way his smile crinkled his moss-green eyes—the eyes she inherited from him. She wanted to see his smile again.

  Aislinn lifted her hand and placed it in Lark’s. A small seed of hope took root in her chest.

  * * *

  Aislinn lagged half a pace behind her guide as they wove through the forest. She paused to look up at the trees, craning her neck to see how tall they were. They towered high in the sky, as high as any bird would dare to fly. The sun hinted at its presence between lush green leaves. The light that once seemed so cruel and unforgiving, highlighting the marks on her body, now felt safe and inviting as it illuminated the expanse of skin unmarred by his touch.

  Aislinn’s gaze fell to Lark, the mysterious being with kind eyes and fire for hair. Aislinn’s mind buzzed with a thousand unasked questions. She tightened her mouth in an attempt to smother them back down her throat. “What’s it like?”

  Aislinn never did have much self-control.

  Lark turned. “That’s an awfully vague question.”

  “Being what you are. Is it lonely?”

  “Not for most of us.”

  “Us? How many of your kind are there?” Aislinn never considered there’d be numerous harbingers of death. She also didn’t consider her words to hold any insult, but the way Lark’s mouth tightened, she must have said something wrong.

  “As many as there needs to be.”

  Aislinn pondered the unspoken meaning behind Lark’s words. “Are you at peace, being what you are?”

  Lark’s face hardened. Her eyes drifted over Aislinn’s shoulder. She froze, a preternatural stillness coming over her. The only sound was the thrashing of leaves, trees swaying wildly in a breeze Aislinn no longer felt.

  A low groan seeped through the treeline.

  A sound of desperation.

  Of searching.

  “Run,” Lark hissed.

  Before Aislinn could react, Lark gripped her elbow and yanked her, propelling her through the forest. Each time her foot caught a gnarled root, that inhumanly strong grip tightened and pulled her harder. Faster.

  Only when they broke through a clearing, Aislinn stumbling over a rotting log, did Lark relent their pace. She turned, watching the tree line.

  Aislinn panted. Her lungs were near to bursting, and her heart threatened to leap from her chest. She placed a hand against her breastbone. Did she still have a heartbeat? If not, why could she feel it thundering in her chest?

  Lark didn’t appear winded.

  “What... was... that?” Aislinn choked out between breaths she was sure she didn’t need.

  Lark continued listening for a heartbeat or two before turning her head to look at her. “Something I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with today.”

  “I thought I was already dead. How is there any danger?”

  Lark hissed a curse. She turned to regard Aislinn with a darkened expression. “As long as you exist here, there is always danger.”

  Here as in the mortal world? Was it so dangerous for her soul to remain? It wasn’t her place to ask questions and she should let this strange girl keep her secrets. “But what was it?”

  Aislinn wasn’t well versed in adhering to what she should do.

  Lark pointed in the direction they’d run from. “That is what happens if I fail my duty.”

  Aislinn paused, letting Lark’s words sink in. “If I don’t move on, whatever that thing was will come to get me?”

  Lark exhaled a sharp breath. “You could become its mirror.”

  As if that didn’t send a thousand questions climbing up Aislinn’s throat.

  “We need to leave,” Lark said with a note of finality Aislinn couldn’t bring herself to argue with.

  When they reached the edge of the forest, they stopped short. Rolling hills stretched ahead, and clouds cast shadows that ambled across the brilliant greenery. Aislinn stood with her hands on her hips and squinted into the distance.

  “That’s Finn’s land. He owns this stretch for miles. Will he be able to see us?” Hope bubbled in Aislinn’s chest. If Finn could see her, maybe she could convince Lark to let her see her mother and Yera one last time. To say goodbye before accepting whatever came next. Her heart that shouldn’t beat, squeezed.

  There would be no goodbyes for her. Not in this life.

  Lark’s mouth tightened before she turned back to the sprawling landscape before her. Without a word, she slid one hand into the air. The light around it seemed to ripple and refract. Like she was slipping between a gossamer curtain.

  Aislinn gasped at the sight. “Is that... the door to the other side?” Would her father be waiting for her? Would she ascend to Avalon? She didn’t hold any stock in the notion that every mortal sinner was bound for an eternity in the Netherworld. That seemed too cruel.

  “Think of it more as a path leading to an entryway. You still have to choose to cross the threshold.”

  “What an odd place for it to reside.” Aislinn frowned. Did all souls have to come to this spot?

  “The veil is everywhere. It’s the access point that varies. Each soul has a unique passage.” Lark looked her over, assessing. “I didn’t even know for certain it would be here for you. I had to let it call to me.”

  Aislinn pursed her lips. “That seems unnecessarily complicated.”

  “Yes.” Lark gave her a knowing look before waving a hand in invitation.

  Ai
slinn took a staggering step forward, reaching her arms toward the rippling surface. Lark guided her through, following behind.

  Before them lay another forest, and once they cleared the juncture of the glimmering veil it closed behind them. Disappearing as if it had never been.

  A vibrant world of color surrounded Aislinn. Instead of warm browns and lush greens with hints of sunlight and blue skies, this forest held rich purple and red leaves. Soft lavender light illuminated the forest floor.

  An overwhelming sense of belonging crashed through her as if she should build a house right in this spot and never leave.

  A turquoise blue pond stretched before her with a simple wooden bridge stretching across. She leaned over to see where it led, but a dense cloud of fog obscured anything beyond it.

  “These last few steps, you must take on your own.” Lark’s voice cut through Aislinn’s consciousness and she turned to face her.

  “Where does it lead?”

  “To where you were always meant to go.” Lark wasn’t looking at her but beyond her.

  “What does that mean?” Panic rose in Aislinn’s throat. This wasn’t what she agreed to. Lark said she’d guide her, not abandon her. Aislinn wasn’t ready to part from the oddly comforting girl yet. The full weight of the truth, her mortality, pressed down on her.