The Soulstoy Inheritance Read Online Free PDF

the faintest of threads. I couldn’t see much of the vegetation, but I could make out the scraggly, leafless branches that clawed into the sky, framed by moonlight. Most of the houses were in various states of disrepair, and all of them appeared to be empty so far.
    The closer we drew to the center of town, the more signs of life I began to spot. A small, dirty face peeking out from behind a ragged blanket hanging in a window, eyes illuminated by candlelight, another child even began to run aside our horses, until Grenlow threw her one of our leftover scones. 
    “This is terrible,” I whispered to no one in particular, realising that the state of the place hadn’t improved at all since my last visit.
    “They have no water, no food,” Grenlow said. “The wells have dried up, and the further downstream the Raven River flows, the more poisonous the water becomes. By the time it reaches Flintwood, it is deadly. The crops refuse to grow… everything refuses to grow. The animals are just as desperate as the people; wild dogs and wolves have been attacking for weeks now. That’s why no one lives on the border anymore. It’s Red Ridge all over again.”
    We had reached the center of the town by then, where a huge bonfire blazed in a stone pit almost ten feet long, and where a good portion of the township had gathered. There was a large slab of meat rotating at the edges of the fire pit, and skinny children crouched around it, holding clay bowls and plates, eyes riveted to the turning meat. I slid off my horse as people began to notice us, and a hushed whispering spread through them. Some of the people dropped to their knees, some simply stared, but my attention had been captured by the edge of the fire pit.
    A sick, horrible feeling began to tense in the muscles of my stomach. I moved closer and closer to the fire, paying no heed to the children that scrambled away from me, until I was standing directly before the turning meat.
    “What is this?” I asked, pointing to it.
    I had directed the question at no one in particular, but now I looked at the only person who would meet my eye. He was a hardened man, synfee-handsome, but with a ragged edge and elongated, pointed features. His clothes were stained and torn, and his eyes were a focused red-gold.
    “Fleshmeat.” He seemed to smile as he answered, though I was too distracted by his sharpened teeth to take much notice of the sentiment behind the baring of them.
    A shudder ran down my spine, and I looked to Harbringer. His face was hard, his black eyes cavernous and hollow with some wild ferocity of emotion. I had seen that look before, and I found myself once again glad that it was not aimed at me, yet just the presence of it confirmed my fear about the ‘fleshmeat’. But what could I do? These people were starving; the children were so skinny that their bones poked through their skin. With a hardening resolve, I turned from the pit and walked back to Grenlow.
    “If I push that carcass into the fire, will they attack me?”
    He looked horrified. “No Lady, they know better. The synfees are not a heedless race, and a monarch’s decision is always final, no matter the… decision. But are you sure that this is wise? These people cannot afford to waste food.”
    “I will find other food.” I wanted to add make sure this doesn’t happen again , but I decided that this particular part of the synfee lifestyle might be a bit harder to stamp out than simply issuing another empty threat.
    I walked back to the fire and saw the glint of Harbringer’s smile as I stretched out a leg, anchored my riding boot against the oily surface and kicked the carcass all the way into the fire. It wasn’t a dignified burial, but cremation was still better than consumption. An outcry rose among the gathered people as the flames swallowed their meal, but when I turned, none of them would meet my eye. I felt a pang of guilt, and for a moment, Nareon’s face flashed before my eyes, but I