The Road to Death

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The chill breeze blew through Esprë’s body like a gust of knives and stabbed her awake. Her head aching and swimming, she first thought she might be back in Mardakine, the town on the edge of the shrouded waste known as the Mournland that she and her stepfather Kandler called home. Sometimes an icy wind came whistling from that barren, time-stopped place that loomed over their house and down through the window of her bedroom, shattering her restless sleep.

Esprë hadn’t slept well for weeks. Since the strange mark had appeared on her back—the dragonmark known as the Mark of Death, she now knew—images of wailing souls had assaulted her dreams, screaming at her to free them, to help them slip this mortal flesh and find peace in Dolurrh, the Realm of the Dead. Then the people around her, people from Mardakine whom she’d known for years—since the birth of the young town—started dying, and the dreams got worse.

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