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No…Viskae breathed, going still inside Isak. He responded by freezing, too.That couldn’t be true. No, I was drawn to this, the sword will save us—

Can you trust the ones who sent you here?The female shrieked.In full confidence.

“A book sent us here,” Isak muttered.

“No,” Harth said, staggering back to Isak’s side to stare at the empty gold box, the sword. “It didn’t. Tynenn did. But he’s been a librarian in Saintsgarde for years. Since I was a kid.”

“Since I was, too,” Kaladeir said warily, joining them.

“I told you,” Arna spat, even angrier than before.

Books were rewritten,the ancient one snarled.Stories were retold. One great trick by the dark ones and their followers. The sword was left as a trap, a tool. One that would reopen the circle upon its repair.

“The circle,” Isak echoed, cold inside now, the sword less like hope in his hands and more like a harbinger. That gauzy light still hung over everything. A curse. An omen. “But they don’t have them all yet—”

It’s the work of hours to shatter them,the ancient one shrieked, and this time Isak swore he heard that cry inthe distance, like she was racing towards them.Hours, and civilization as we know it will fall.

“What can we do?” Kaladeir demanded, stoic and serious again, utterly unaffected by Isak’s colossal fuck up. The saint of mistakes, incarnate.

I’m so sorry,Viskae whispered.I didn’t know.

It would be easy to be angry at her. Isak was just tired.

Warn those who live near the remaining stone circles. Gather your armies to defend them. Prevent the dark ones from gaining control over them at all costs.

Kaladeir stepped away, speaking to himself. He’d stopped arguing the saints weren’t real, Isak saw. Hearing ancient voices would do that to you.

The bastard has psychic magic,Viskae said with a laugh.He can speak into any mind, across any distance. He’s warning the commanders of the Sainsan army, and calling others to ride to the other countries.

It could work. If they were fast enough, if they could surround the circles, if Isak ignored all his memories of saints and monsters and how quickly they could shred mortal soldiers. It could work.

“And what happens if we fail?” Rassicus asked nervously, shifting his weight.

The end.

Isak dragged a hand through his hair, shaking his head hard. “Like you said, dick consort, we’ll deal with the consequences later. Now we need to save the others. Can this sword still kill a saint?” he asked theancient one.

“King consort,” Harth growled.

“I said what I said.” Isak grabbed his stick from the mud, clasped the sword tightly in his hand, and stood. “We need to make use of this sword while we still can.”

He didn’t mention that he didn’t know where Jaro and Maia were being kept, or that he’d been hoping this sword would lead him to them like a miracle.

I will take you to them,the ancient one snarled, and this time Isak was certain he heard a shriek outside his mind too, like a primal, guttural scream.

The rebel army began to shout and point, and Isak followed their attention to the heavy clouds, to the grey sky, to—

“No fucking way,” Isak blurted.

You might have told me the ancient ones were drakes,he blurted to Viskae.That’s an important detail to leave out.

A drake. An enormous horned, spiked, scale-armoured, many-fanged, fire-breathingdrakescreamed as it—she—whipped through the air and landed in the ruins of Wylnarren only metres away.

Well?she demanded.What are you standing around like useless lemmings for? Climb on.

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

“Az,” Maia choked out, pulling on his soul as if she could pull him from the deep pool of poison leaking from every part of him. The light around them brightened until she had to squint, and all at once he let go of her and stepped back, shaking his head. Lank black hair fell over his face, horror filling his eyes.