THE LAST DAWN
Chapter 15: The Chamber of Bones
The darkness beyond the door was not empty.
Bones lined the walls — thousands of bones, millions of bones, stacked and arranged in patterns that hurt to look at. Skulls and ribs and femurs and phalanges, all fused together, all pulsing with pale blue light, all watching him with empty eyes.
Rowan walked forward.
The bones crackled beneath his boots.
The cold seeped through his skin.
The hunger stirred in his chest.
And then — he saw it.
A throne.
Made of bone.
Skulls for the seat. Ribs for the arms. Femurs for the legs. And on the throne, a figure.
Not the old woman. Not Morwen. Not Lyra.
A man.
He was young — younger than Rowan, younger than anyone had a right to be. His hair was white, his skin was pale, his eyes were silver. He wore a robe of bone, and his bare feet were pressed against the skulls.
He was beautiful.
He was terrible.
He was the hunger.
“Hello, Rowan,” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Rowan raised his knife.
“You’re not the hunger.”
The man tilted his head.
“I am the hunger. I am the bone. I am the end.”
“You’re a person.”
“I was a person. Once. A long time ago. Before the sacrifice. Before the opening. Before the hunger.”
“What happened?”
The man stood.
His robe of bone clattered.
“I became this.”
He walked toward Rowan.
His bare feet left no prints on the skulls.
“The Trial of Bone is not a test of strength. It is a test of memory. A test of grief. A test of loss.”
“What do I have to lose?”
The man stopped in front of him.
His silver eyes were bright.
“Everything.”
He raised his hand.
The bones shifted.
The walls crumbled.
The floor opened.
Rowan fell.
He fell through darkness.
Through cold.
Through silence.
He landed on stone.
He was in a room.
Small. Simple. A bed. A desk. A window that looked out onto a field — green and gold, full of flowers, full of light.
He knew this room.
It was his childhood bedroom.
And sitting on the bed, waiting for him, was his mother.