Chapter 12 · free to read
Eleven years of jobs, and Cass had never once run a bottle to zero. There had always been another bottle.
The torch did not need the bottle. It had only ever needed something warm to take from, and it was not particular.
The white came in at the temples. The fog stopped coming out of him altogether. He was a man now measurably below the temperature of a man.
Third fire. Marrowfen woke with four hundred souls in it, and every one of them walked out of the ice under their own power.
Artwork and narration generated with AI.