Burn of the Everflame — Chapter 44

44

LUTHER

t didn’t take long for Vance to prove Diem right.I On the sixth day, a messenger hawk arrived with news that he’d been spotted marching for Lumnos with a large contingent of troops. Unlike before, they didn’t hide their movements behind an illusion. They wanted us to see them coming. Diem’s mocking had worked—Vance was so desperate to show he wasn’t afraid of her, he was putting his entire army at risk to prove it.

The prospect of an end to the war lifted everyone’s spirits. Taran kept up morale with a steady stream of ale and music, and my advisors had been working hard to encourage their respective factions to give unity a second chance. When we announced that we expected the enemy’s arrival within a day, our army actually cheered.

Knowing the precise moment they would arrive was an incredible advantage, and we set to work exploiting it. Alixe had already called in reinforcements from Fortos, and she positioned us in an area of the northern forests known as Mort-Feu Pass, hoping to cut Vance off before his army reached the towns. We filled a clearing there with hidden obstacles and put archers in the trees across the field to surprise them with a rear attack.

Diem had been in a pensive silence all week, but today she was shouting orders and pacing the front lines, checking and double-checking every preparation. She sent the gryverns away—Sorae to protect the towns, Tybold to protect the arena. She asked twice if we had time to call in more fighters from other realms. She seemed worried there was something she’d missed. Something big enough to turn certain triumph into disaster.

“We’re ready,” I assured her, reaching for her hand. Though she let me take it, I might as well have been holding her empty scabbard. Her body was here, but her mind was elsewhere.

“Diem,” I rumbled, adding a touch of the dominant gruff I usually reserved for our more intimate moments.

Her head snapped toward me, her focus finally returning in full.

“We’re going to win,” I said again.

Her nails clicked against the godstone sword I’d forced her to carry.

“Do you feel it?”

I knew what she meant. The presence of powerful magic in the air had been steadily growing stronger all day.

I nodded. “With any luck, he’ll bring your sword. We’ll steal it back, and you can end this.”

Her expression darkened. She swept her gaze across Mort-Feu Pass.

“Does his aura feel different to you?”

“Weaker than I expected, considering they’re so close. Maybe shielding them has drained his magic.”

“It’s more than that. It feels . . .” Her heel bounced. “I don’t know.

Different.” She glanced up at the sky. “Maybe I should call in the other gryverns.”

“We could call back Sorae. Lumnos City would be happy to lose her, considering how loudly she whined when we left her behind.” I teasingly nudged her side. “I think I can still hear her from here.”

Diem didn’t smile. “Sorae stays where she is. I can’t risk leaving the towns unprotected.”

I lowered my voice, mindful of the hundreds of troops surrounding us.

“Is that what’s worrying you? You think they’re going to find a way to get

past us?”

She swallowed. “I don’t know.”

Her attention shifted to her brother, who was standing among the troops.

After a tense discussion about Vance’s involvement in their father’s murder, Teller had insisted on joining the battle. It was a tremendously bad idea, but Diem couldn’t deny him the chance at revenge she so badly wanted herself.

Through the past week, I’d awoken in the night to find her sitting up, eyes open and vacant as she replayed the memory of Andrei’s murder in her head. Each time, I would watch until she returned with a jolt, then pull her close and hold her as tears streamed down her cheeks. She gave me her

word that she was not doing it to punish herself, but to memorize the faces of every man there so she would recognize them if she saw them in battle.

I let go of her hand and grazed mine up her back. My fingers dipped below the collar of her fighting leathers and gently massaged her warm, tension-knotted skin.

Something stirred inside me as her eyes briefly closed and a bit of her sharpness softened. I’d always felt drawn to protect her, but ever since Sophos, that urge had become a need. I doubted there was anything I wouldn’t do to bring her gauntlet to an end.

If only I could figure out how.

“Should we get them a tent?” Taran teased from behind us.

“Leave them alone,” Zalaric scolded, whipping a tendril of pale blue light his way.

Taran yelped, though the magic did no damage as it cracked against his skin. “See,” he boasted, grinning. “Your godhood won’t hurt me. You do like me.”

Zalaric groaned. “At least the fortune I’m paying for this ceremony

won’t be a waste.”

“Ceremony?” Diem asked.

Zalaric frowned at Taran. “You haven’t told her?”

“I was waiting until she was a little less . . .” He bared his teeth and made a stabbing motion with his hand.

Diem abruptly spun around. “Wait—do you mean a mating ceremony?”

She looked between them. “The two of you are going to be mates?”

“Bribes were involved,” Zalaric said dryly, though his mouth lifted into a smile.

My lungs burned, and I realized I was holding my breath for her reaction. While Taran enthusiastically explained the when and where, I catalogued her every movement—the slight sink of her brows and flattening of her lips, the way her hand drifted to her chest.

Diem had made it clear she might never take a mate. I’d told her I could live with that, and I meant it. There was no mark nor ring nor title that I needed to love her for the rest of my days.

But in my most hidden thoughts, hope had persevered. Ever since the day in the library when she’d spoken of our future, I’d wondered if,

perhaps, in time . . .

“Will you do it, Queenie?” Taran asked.

Diem couldn’t seem to catch her breath. “What?”

“He wants you to lead the ceremony,” Zalaric said, “because you’re our Queen.”

“Because she’s our family,” Taran corrected, “and she’s the reason I found you.”

“Remind me to bill her for that inconvenience,” Zalaric joked.

“I . . . um, I’m so . . . happy for you both,” she stammered, “but I—I don’t . . .”

A thundering heartbeat pounded in my ears. My chest flooded with a tempestuous mix of emotions.

“Diem has never attended a mating ceremony,” I jumped in. “She won’t know what to do.”

“Lumnos’s taint,” Taran said, sulking. “I didn’t think of that.”

Zalaric shot him a look. “I told you that myself. Twice.”

“Yeah, but it was right after you did that thing with your teeth. You know how I get when my balls—”

I cleared my throat. “Maybe Her Majesty could participate in a simpler way. As one of your dagger-bearers, perhaps?” I looked at Diem, whose face had gone white as she clutched the leather over her chest. “All you have to do is present the knife when asked.”

“Perfect,” Taran said. “Queenie and Teller can carry the daggers. Lu can lead the ceremony instead.”

I fought a cringe. “That role is held by someone with authority. I have none.”

A mischievous glint gleamed in his eyes. “Maybe if you ask nicely,

Queenie will make you her Kingie.”

Diem tensed.

“Taran,” I warned.

“If you ask really nicely, Zal might let us make it a double ceremony so you two could speed up this torture you’re putting us all thr—”

“Taran,” I snapped. “I’ll do it.”

He brightened. “Really?” He lunged forward, and I let go of Diem just in time to avoid taking her down with me as he knocked me to my ass with a rib-crushing hug.

I slapped him hard on the back, but our brotherly moment was interrupted by a trumpet’s blare. We quickly climbed to our feet and turned our eyes to a column of shadow shooting through the trees.

The lookout’s signal.

Vance and his men had arrived.

HARDLY A WORD WAS SPOKEN as we watched the enemy emerge from the forest. It was immediately apparent that this was not the ragtag group of rebels we’d grown accustomed to facing. Their clothes were nicer, their weapons were fancier. There was even a line of people at the front of their ranks who inexplicably appeared to be wearing uniforms. And there was something I’d never seen among Vance’s troops before: women. Plenty of them. In less than a week, Vance’s army had more than tripled in size.

“They’re not shielding,” Alixe said. “Not unless Ophiucae learned how to make his shield invisible.”

“There’s his shield,” I grumbled, pointing to the furthest edge of the ranks, where Vance sat on horseback along with ten other men behind a shimmering veil.

Taran snorted. “Hiding in safety while his people put themselves at risk.

He’s proving Queenie right.”

I glanced at Diem. She was quiet, brows drawn in.

Nidara eagerly spun her blades. “Why do they keep fighting for him?

He’s going to get them all killed.”

“Maybe they’re happy to die as long as they take us with them,” Zalaric said.

Diem took a few steps forward, her troubled look deepening.

“Your Majesty,” Alixe called out. “We advance on your command.”

Diem shook her head.

“What is it?” I asked her.

“They’re so . . . still.”

I began to see it, too. The host amassed across Mort-Feu Pass looked more like a painting than living, breathing people. Our soldiers were squirming with energy, but the fighters at Vance’s command were perfect statues. Their lines were flawless, not a toe out of place. The only movement was their clothes fluttering in the wind.

Diem raised her arm, and a bolt of shadow sprang from her palm. None of the enemy soldiers even raised their chins to watch as it sailed across their heads and crashed into Vance’s shield.

His booming laughter echoed across the pass.

Diem’s hand shifted and fired again. Again, the dark bolt whistled through the air. When it reached its target—a soldier in dark clothes at the center of their front line—the man’s hand jerked up, and a dome of shimmering pink appeared at the last second to knock it away.

Diem and I stiffened, coming to the same realization at once. That wasn’t Ophiucae’s shield—and that man was not a mortal.

“It’s not his aura we felt,” Diem said. “It’s theirs.”

Vance’s laughter grew louder.

“Don’t fire,” Teller yelled. He shoved his way through the lines as he sprinted toward us. “Diem, stop the attack!”

A shrill, ear-splitting whistle sliced through the air. Vance’s army jolted

to attention. “Advance,” he bellowed.

“Your Majesty?” Alixe called out.

Diem’s eyes darted between her High General, her brother, and the militia marching toward us.

“We should hold,” I suggested. “Let our traps do the work for now.”

“Are they wearing . . . dresses?” Zalaric asked.

We followed his bemused stare to the middle ranks, where a number of Vance’s soldiers were marching forward in floor-length skirts and flowing robes.

“Diem,” Teller panted when he reached us. “Those people . . . they’re not mortals . . . they’re—”

“Descended,” Diem finished, looking grim. “I know. He must have promised to spare them if they joined him.”

“No, you don’t understand. Those aren’t just any Descended. They —”

His voice was drowned out by raucous laughter from Diem’s army as the first of Vance’s troops fell victim to the obstacles we’d hidden. On one side of the field, they dropped like stones into the hidden trenches. On the other, they tripped on roots and went sliding on ice.

Another day, against another army, I might have found it comical, too— but my Queen wasn’t laughing. Most unnervingly of all, Vance still was.

Across the field, he roared with amusement at his own troops’ misfortune.

“Why aren’t they going around?” Alixe asked. “They can clearly see the trenches, but they’re walking right in.”

The sight was turning morbid. So many of Vance’s troops had fallen into the ditches and filled them up, the other soldiers were marching on them, as if their bodies were a bridge.

“It’s like they don’t even care about their own,” Diem murmured.

“Diem, listen,” Teller shouted. “I know those Descended. I met some of them in Sophos.”

“Sophos?” she repeated, frowning. “That doesn’t make any sense. Their people are scholars, not fighters.”

His face was bloodless, eyes round with dread. “Diem . . . I don’t think they’re here by choice.”

Diem’s head slowly turned to the glassy-eyed, stiff-moving Descended marching toward us. “Oh, gods,” she whispered.

“Ophiucae took over their minds with Umbros magic,” I muttered, understanding. “He’s making them fight so the mortals don’t have to.”

“We can’t hurt them,” Teller insisted. “They’re innocent. They don’t even know what they’re doing.”

“Well, we can’t ignore them,” Nidara argued. “Not if they’ve been ordered to kill us.”

Fury blazed in Diem’s glare. “I’ll fix it. Alixe, hold our people off as long as you can.” She prowled forward, and I stalked behind her.

“What are you planning?” I asked.

“If Ophiucae did it, then I can undo it.”

She continued past our lines into the expanse of open field. I snarled at her to stop, fearful she would come in range of their godstone weapons, but as we neared the marching Descended, I spotted a chilling revelation: they didn’t have any godstone weapons. Many had no weapons at all.

Vance’s whistle rang out. “Kill them,” he bellowed.

Every head in Vance’s army turned toward us. I barely got my shield up in time for the barrage of magic that sent me staggering back. Though Diem’s magic curved around me to bolster its strength, I lost sight of her as Vance’s troops closed in.

The number of them was overwhelming, but it was their empty eyes that turned my stomach to stone. No glow of their magic, no sign of emotion or thought. The pink hue of their irises had faded to a dull, murky fog. Even when they stared right at me, they didn’t seem to be seeing me. I had

witnessed people whose minds were being compelled with Umbros magic . . . this was something else.

I caught a flash of white hair, and I forced my shield out toward it in a powerful burst. Descended bodies went flying, revealing Diem with a woman on her knees. Though Diem had bound her hands and feet with Arboros roots, the woman was fighting like hell—not to get at Diem, but at me.

In fact, none of them were fighting Diem. The whole of Vance’s army had their sights set on me and me alone.

“Her,” Vance snarled. “Kill her!”

His commands went ignored, and his troops continued to close me in. I pushed my way through to Diem’s side, where she was gripping the woman’s temples with a determined glare.

“I can’t find a way in,” she gritted out.

I set my palm against her skin and let my shadows flow. “Absorb my magic. The extra strength might help.”

“I have plenty of magic. There’s nowhere to put it. It’s like he’s hidden the door into her mind. All I can see is empty space.”

Vance let out a roar of frustration. He blew another whistle. “If you won’t kill her”—he swung his finger to Diem’s army—“kill them all instead.”

Diem jerked her hands back as if something had burned her. She gaped down at the woman in horror.

The Descended around us came to a stiff stop. Their bodies looked like puppets dancing on strings as they lurched away toward our army’s lines. I looked across the field to Alixe, whose eyes darted between the advancing enemy and her Queen, awaiting Diem’s orders.

“Shields,” Alixe yelled, and not a moment too soon. A mammoth wall of twinkling, multicolored light enveloped our army just as a wave of crackling magic surged across the pass.

“Alixe can’t hold them off for long,” I told Diem. “Half our army is mortal. Shielding everyone will drain our Descended fast.”

“Don’t hurt them,” she insisted. She grabbed the woman’s temples again. “I need more time. She has to be in there somewhere.”

Diem’s skin began to shimmer as a bone-trembling amount of magic radiated in the air around her. My godhood roared, sensing her desperation and straining to get free of my body and help her.

But here, I could do her no good. I turned my sights on the one place I could unleash it in full: the man who tried to take me from my Queen.

I set on a furious course across the field. Vance was so busy basking in preemptive victory, he didn’t notice me craft an illusion to conceal my approach, though the godstone sword I carried repelled my magic, making it appear to float toward him like a menacing omen of death.

How very appropriate.

One strike, I thought, and he’s out of our lives for good.

I paused. If Diem couldn’t find a way to call Vance’s army off, would his death condemn them to obey his last command forever?

I glanced back at my Queen. My heart wrenched at the distress on her face as she fought to break the woman free of the hold on her mind. I cherished her unwavering belief that no one was too far gone to be saved. I loved her for it.

Unfortunately for these people, I did not share it.

If they were the price it took to rid my Queen of her greatest threat . . . for her, I would pay a terrible cost.

I kept my sword still as I crept closer. Ophiucae’s shield did not wrap around the men like a skin as it had in previous battles. It had expanded to form a spacious, protective dome. Godstone could pierce it, but I could not.

I’d have to turn my sword into a spear, and I’d only have one chance to get it right.

A creaking sound rang out behind me as our army’s shield began to break. Diem had the power to strengthen it, but she was oblivious, consumed by her efforts, and calling out to her would give me away.

I continued on. Alixe would have to fight that battle on her own. I could not miss this chance.

Vance and his men were easy enough to fool. They couldn’t get enough of seeing our army’s splintering shield, drinking it in with glee. Their horses, though . . . animals always had a preternatural sense for magic.

Their dark, nervous eyes followed my every step. When I moved to circle behind them, they whinnied and sidled away. The men dug their heels in to keep them still, but the closer I got, the more the horses skittered to avoid me.

“Stupid beasts,” Vance muttered, jabbing his boot into his horse’s side.

“They sense something,” another said. He glanced into the forest.

“Maybe we should have left the others behind us.”

I froze. Others?

Our army’s shield gave a thunderous crack, and a giant tear ripped through the center. Diem jerked out of her daze and raised her palms to help, but her efforts came too late. Vance’s troops had already surged through the opening.

Alixe thrust a hand toward the sky, sending a sizzling beam of light into the clouds—a signal for the archers. Bowstrings twanged, and a hailstorm of arrows rained down from both sides of the field.

A handful came down on Vance and his men. Though most bounced off their shield, a few godstone tips seared through the sparkling dome. Two of Vance’s cronies fell, and another was thrown to the soil by the buck of a

wounded mare.

Vance escaped untouched.

I said a silent prayer: Blessed Mother Lumnos, give me this man’s life. It matters not who deals the blow. By their arrows or my sword, I am begging you, let this bastard die.

Behind me, the rest of the archers found their marks. The Sophos Descended began to fall, but the arrows didn’t stop them. With their minds locked on Vance’s command to kill them all, retreat was not an option.

Alixe sent up another signal. More arrows came, and more bodies hit the soil.

“Stop, Alixe,” Diem yelled, running toward her. “They’re innocent!”

My heart broke at the raw panic in her voice. To Diem, every life on that field was hers to protect, and every death would be hers to mourn.

I had to end this now.

In the chaos of the flying arrows, the horses had lost their interest in me.

They stomped in a frenzy as Vance and his men wrestled for control. Vance dismounted to keep from being thrown and seized his reins. He turned his back to me to bark orders at his men, and I finally had my chance.

I lifted my sword to my shoulder, aiming the point of its blade for

Vance’s chest. My arm reared back.

“I’ve got a clear shot on the Queen!”

The words stopped me mid-throw. One of Vance’s men had lifted his crossbow, the glittering black tip of its bolt pointed toward the battlefield. I glanced back to see that a hole had opened in the fighting, leaving Diem exposed.

The godstone point would easily slice through her shield. She claimed to be immune to the toxin, but she wasn’t immune to arrows and blades. If it pierced her in just the wrong place—Blessed Kindred, if it hit her heart . .

.

“Take the shot,” Vance yelled.

I looked at him, my sword still aimed at his chest. His death would prevent so many others. It would likely cost Ophiucae his mortal army, perhaps even the war. And if I let Vance walk away, gods only knew how many more Descended he would torture and cut down. Diem would insist that the risk of her death was not worth the risk of letting him live.

“Take the shot,” Vance growled again.

I knew the choice my Queen would order me to make.

But I had sworn to let the world burn to protect her—and I always kept my promise.

The man with the crossbow frowned, staring at his hands. “I can’t. He must have—”

Too late. My arm swung, my sword flew, and its blade sank deep into the man’s neck. The crossbow tumbled from his hands, and he fell.

Vance swore and leapt back onto his horse. “They’ve got people hidden around us. Time to go.”

Another man ran to check on the mortal I’d wounded. “I’m not sure he can ride.”

“Leave him,” Vance said. “Take the godstone.”

The man cringed as he slid the sword free of his comrade’s throat. The wounded man grabbed his arm, gurgling for help, but he took the crossbow and left the man behind, weaponless and bleeding.

“What about the rest of them?” another man asked, jerking his chin toward the field.

“I’ll send the others in,” Vance said with a shrug. “Let ’em die.

Ophiucae can get more.”

Vance let out a series of whistles, and a rumbling sound began to roll through the trees. On the opposite side of the battlefield, a long line of Sophosians emerged from the forest, ambushing our army from behind.

Moments later, a second line joined them.

From the sides of the field, another line marched out of hiding. Then another.

The numbers were staggering. I doubted a single soul in Sophos had escaped Ophiucae’s control, mortal or Descended.

Though Diem’s back was to me, her long white braid swinging in the breeze, I knew what her expression would hold. I felt each and every

emotion as if they were my own.

The despair. The defeat.

The terrible realization of the choice that lay before her.

The field erupted in chaos. Diem had refused a uniform for our army, wanting to allow each faction to preserve their identity, even in battle. That was proving to be a critical mistake. With the Sophos Descended’s clothing as wide and varied as ours, it became impossible to distinguish friend from foe. Only their vacant, foggy gaze revealed the difference, but the time it took to spot was time our soldiers didn’t have.

Swords swung and magic flew, each with indiscriminate blindness for what they struck. For every step I pushed forward, an attack knocked me two steps back. I let my magic unleash in a violent blast, shredding through bodies with my shadows and scorching the earth with my light to force a bloody pathway to my Queen.

“We have to end this,” I shouted at her. “We’re too outnumbered.”

She could barely spare me a glance. Though the Sophos Descended were still ignoring her presence, her troops were fighting for their lives. Her hands flew in a flurry, casting shields as fast as she could craft them and conjuring bursts of wind to knock the armies apart.

“Tell Alixe to call a retreat,” she yelled back.

“It’s no use. They’ll follow us.”

“We’ll keep moving until Vance calls them back. He can’t chase us

forever.”

“Diem, Vance is gone.”

Her eyes shot to the empty space where he’d been standing. “He left them?”

“Can you use your magic to change their orders?”

Her anguished look answered with a truth she wasn’t ready to admit.

“I’ll find a way. Give me a little more time.”

“My Queen . . . we don’t have more time.” I started toward her when a teenage boy lurched into my path and beat his fists against my shield. His young age surprised me just enough to make me pause—then his frosted brown eyes struck me like a fist.

“Stuart?” I said.

There was no gleam of recognition in his empty stare.

My stomach dropped. I’d had no fondness for the boy when I’d met him in Sophos and witnessed his shameless infatuation with Diem, but he didn’t deserve this. He was a library clerk, not a soldier. This was either punishment for him, for defending his Descended neighbors—or a punishment for Diem.

I lowered my shield to let him through. He carried no weapons, wielded no magic. His scrawny limbs were little threat as they pounded against my chest.

I grabbed him by the scruff and turned him to Diem. I would have given anything to spare her this pain, but it was a truth she needed to see.

“Stuart,” she cried. “No—he’s a mortal. He’s a boy.” She seized his face in her hands, her voice thrumming with Umbros compulsion. “Tell me you

can hear me.”

He didn’t answer.

Her fingers gripped tighter. “Tell me anything. Your favorite color. What realm you come from.” Her eyes frantically searched his. “Tell me your

mother’s name.”

“He’s gone, my heart,” I said.

Her head gave a violent shake. “I won’t give up.” I reached for her and she jerked away. “I can save them!”

“Diem, they’re gone. If you don’t accept it, you’re going to lose our people with them.”

Her eyes lifted to the battlefield—to the sea of clashing fighters and the lifeless bodies mounting with every second.

As tenderly as I could, I pried her hands off Stuart. “Remember what Yrselle told us? If their minds are gone, they can’t be saved.” Our hearts thrashed together in mutual protest: Mine, begging me not to speak the words I knew I had to. Hers, begging her not to believe them. “You have to let them go.”

“But they’re innocent.” Her voice was so small.

I would have let the realm fall to spare her this. I would have forsaken the Blessed Mother and laid my soul at the feet of any rival god, if that’s what it took.

But the only god with the power to end this had already reaped their souls. All we could do was bring their purgatory to an end.

Slowly, she closed her eyes. Bowed her head. “Take Stuart. Get him to

the woods. Keep him safe.”

“Diem—”

“Take Stuart and go.”

My body abruptly stiffened. Compelled by her magic, I unwillingly moved to obey. Even my magic seized to a stop, replaced by her shield as I hauled Stuart over my shoulder and strode into the thick of battle.

Behind me, I heard her whisper: “Retreat.”

Her magic rippled over the field. Every mind that had not been lost to Ophiucae jerked to a stop and swiveled for the forest, while Diem raised roots and rocks to keep the Sophosians from following.

When I walked beyond the tree line, my mind again became my own. I shoved Stuart away and bolted toward Diem, but the moment I stepped into the clearing, her Umbros magic forced me back into the woods. My stubborn fury succumbed to tortured acceptance. I could not save my Queen from her heartbreak, and I could not save these people from their doom.

I raised my palms, and I did the only thing I could—I helped her prepare the lambs for slaughter.

I crafted a vision on the opposite side of the clearing: an army that looked exactly like ours. Its sloppy, amorphous lines would never convince a close observer, but Ophiucae’s puppets were easily fooled. Most of them turned to wage war on my phantom legion, while the rest wandered in circles, unable to decide which foe they were meant to fight.

When Alixe reached the forest and jolted back into her mind, it didn’t take her long to understand. With a grave stare, she silently lifted her hands and began to help.

Soon, others joined. Those trained in illusions lent their magic to mine, while Alixe raised a veil over the forest to mask us from sight. Others shielded our fleeing army until everyone was safely shrouded in the trees.

At last, there was no one left but Diem and the wretched, unlucky souls from the Realm of Thought and Spark. They milled about like ants, clumsily swinging fists and weapons. At the center of the swarm, Diem

stood untouched.

Alone.

Her head bowed, lips moving with words I couldn’t hear.

Auralie Bellator walked to the forest’s edge, lifted her chin, and spoke.

Cordellia joined at her side, then more of the Guardians stepped forward,

forming a long, unbroken wall as their voices carried across the field:

“End be your time, a trade in kind,

a life well-lived for peace to find.

Be not afraid, as shadows fade,

all pain and woe shall be unmade.

Now fate well-sealed shall be revealed, for those whose worthy souls shall yield.

In love and calm, this holy psalm, shall guide your soul to realm beyond.”

The mortals’ Rite of Endings.

When the last word echoed through the leaves, Diem’s trembling hand rose, upturned, and a spark of crackling pink energy fluttered toward the clouds.

“May the Blessed Kindred welcome them home,” I said loudly. I held out my hand and let a wisp of shadow curl around my palm before swirling into mist. Light glimmered through the trees as a scattering of magic from across the realms joined mine in offering.

Beside me, Alixe lifted her voice. “Archers, ready.”

“What are you doing?” I asked her.

“If our Queen must carry this burden, so will we.” Her chin rose.

“Attack.”

Bowstrings hummed. The field was unnervingly quiet as arrows bounced off shields—quiet enough that I heard Diem’s quick intake of breath when other arrows hit their marks and Sophosians began to fall.

Alixe sent up a signal, and another round of arrows flew from the trees at Diem’s back. More bodies thumped to the ground.

I turned my hand toward the clearing and sent out a spear of light. It soared into the horde of living dead, shattering a gleaming shield before piercing someone’s skull. The Descended in Diem’s army followed suit, unleashing their power and taking life after life.

In the magic-laden air, with corpses mounting at her feet, Diem raised her eyes to mine.

There was nothing I could do. No words would ease this horror, and no embrace would dull the pain. Knowing that she had no choice would not keep this day from haunting her forever.

I laid my hand atop my heart.

A single tear spilled down her cheek.

And the field went up in flames.

The blaze burned so wide, so hot, so bright, the others shaded their faces and backed away. I forced myself to hold, forced my skin to endure the sting and my eyes to stay open as witness, letting it brand a permanent place in my memory.

And I alone watched as a silhouette took shape at the center of the fire.

Around her, orange flames shimmered into silver. Her magic pulsed, and the world went so white that even I could no longer stare into its glow. Just before my eyes finally broke from my Queen, a flash of red appeared beside her.

SHE BURNED FOR HOURS.

Though her magic did its awful work in seconds, Diem burned and burned as her aura dwindled. Even when there was nothing left across Mort-Feu Pass besides glowing embers and scattered flames, she let the magic pour out of her until no trace of it remained.

When she had nothing left to give, she rose to her feet. Her clothing was unburnt, her golden scabbard unmelted by the blaze. Only her face had changed.

Instead of sorrow, her eyes were dark with depthless rage.

She marched across the pass, her boots crunching over a rocky field of glittering black. When she reached us, she paused for only a second to issue

Alixe a quiet, sharp command.

“Here’s your godstone. Make it count.”

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