THE BONE SHIPS : THE RISING DARK
Chapter 2: The Messenger
The ship of shadow drifted toward the shore.
Valeris stood at the water’s edge, her hand on the bone knife at her belt, her silver eyes fixed on the figure at the bow. The woman was beautiful—more beautiful than anyone Valeris had ever seen. Her skin was pale as moonlight, her hair black as the deep, her eyes the color of the void. She wore a gown of seaweed and shadow, and her bare feet left no prints on the bones.
She was dead.
She was hunger.
She was the messenger.
“Who are you?” Valeris asked.
The woman smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
“I am the voice you heard in your dreams. The song you sang as a child. The hunger you have been fighting your whole life.”
“What do you want?”
The woman stepped off the ship.
Her feet touched the water.
She did not sink.
She walked across the surface as if it were solid ground, her gown trailing behind her, her eyes fixed on Valeris.
“I want you to come with me.”
“Where?”
The woman stopped a few feet away.
“To the place where the Drowned King sleeps. To the place where the door was opened. To the place where the first listener died.”
“Why?”
The woman tilted her head.
“Because he wants to see you.”
Valeris’s blood went cold.
“The Drowned King wants to see me?”
“He has been waiting for you. For five years, he has been waiting. For a thousand years, he has been waiting.”
“What does he want?”
The woman was silent for a long moment.
“To thank you.”
Valeris stared at her.
“To thank me? I closed the door. I trapped him. I ended his hunger.”
“You sealed the door. You did not trap him. He chose to stay. He chose to sleep. He chose to wait.”
“Wait for what?”
The woman looked at the sea.
At the black water.
At the darkness.
“For you to be ready.”
Mira ran to the shore.
“Valeris!”
The woman turned.
Her void-dark eyes flickered.
“Your mother,” she said. “The bone carver. The one who tried to hide you from the dead.”
“She was protecting me.”
“She was protecting herself. She was afraid of what you would become.”
“What will I become?”
The woman looked at her.
“The last listener. The door closer. The hope of the world.”
Mira grabbed Valeris’s arm.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s one of them. She’s dead.”
“I’m not dead,” the woman said. “I’m something else. Something new. Something the world has never seen.”
“What?”
The woman smiled.
It was a real smile, warm and bright and full of love.
“I’m the first listener. The one who opened the door. The one who has been waiting for someone to close it.”
Valeris’s heart stopped.
“You’re the first listener?”
“I am. I was. I will be. Time has no meaning for the dead.”
“You died a thousand years ago.”
“I died. But I did not disappear. I became part of the door. Part of the darkness. Part of the hunger.”
“And now?”
The first listener looked at the sea.
At the black water.
At the darkness.
“Now I want to be free.”
Mira stepped forward.
“You can’t be free. You’re dead.”
“I can. With her help.”
She looked at Valeris.
“With the last listener’s help.”
“How?”
The first listener took Valeris’s hands.
Her skin was cold.
“By opening the door. By letting the dead through. By ending the hunger.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to prevent.”
“I know. That’s why you’re the only one who can do it.”
Valeris pulled her hands away.
“I won’t open the door. I won’t let the dead through. I won’t end the world.”
The first listener’s eyes filled with tears.
“You won’t end the world. You’ll save it.”
“How?”
The first listener was silent for a long moment.
“By becoming the door.”