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“Don’t worry about me! We have to get away from the Rift!” The ground rolled under our feet, sending us both careening sideways. For a moment, I lost track of him as dust descended. Something slammed into me, and hands caught at my shoulders.

“General!” Captain Drago’s terror-stricken face filled my vision. “What does it mean?”

The end of everything. If Midian and the demons were coming, it was over. And as I’d always suspected, the prophecy was a cruel joke. Fate had played all of us for fools, and we’d played along, letting it move us about like the markers on Laurent’s table map. We hadn’t stopped Midian. Given had sacrificed herself for nothing. And now the demons would reign.

What does it mean?

Nothing. Nothing at all. There was no point. That was the punchline. Fate’s last laugh. You fought and you suffered. You endured and dared to hope. Against all odds, you found love that made all the suffering worthwhile.

And in the end, you lost it all anyway.

The ground heaved. A low thrum filled the air like something big picking up speed. The temperature dropped. My eardrums ached, pressure and sound swelling.

Drago waited for me to tell him what to do.

“Get to the palace!” I yelled, shoving him toward the horses. “Get to the city and prepare for a siege!” He stumbled off, and I swung around, searching for Laurent among the dust and shifting earth.

A flash of black. I followed it, leaping over a widening crack in the ground. Dust parted, and relief pounded through me as I saw him getting to his feet. He was moving before I reached him, his mouth open on a shout I couldn’t hear. The ground heaved again, sending me stumbling forward so quickly I slammed into him.

I seized his shoulders and bellowed above the noise. “We have to get out of here!”

“Jordan!” he yelled, turning and pointing.

I looked and saw Jordan staggering toward the Rift. Ahead of him, the sides of the chasm rose up and down. Boulders tumbled. Sheets of rock separated from the walls and slid into the void.

The thrumming noise grew louder. The air shifted, the energy of a thousand storms building. Pain sliced through my skull as the pressure in the air grew unbearable, making my head feel like a grape ready to burst.

Jordan continued toward the Rift.

The ground cracked open, fissures zigzagging over the dirt.

Jordan staggered and fell, then crawled forward on his hands and knees.

Energy. Pressure. So much pressure. A high-pitched whine split the air.

BOOM.

There was a rippling, sizzling sound, and then a beam of green light shot from the Thicket into the air. It spread, rolling and rolling and growing into a cloud.

Evil. The Thicket had fallen. The demons were free.

The green cloud filled the sky. Then it streaked toward us.

Laurent gripped my arm.

Behind me, knights screamed in terror.

This is how it ends. I wrapped my arm around Laurent.

At the Rift, Jordan stood. He braced his legs wide and lifted his hands. Twin balls of light formed on his palms. He held them aloft. The light grew, forming two blazing, boiling suns.

The demons aimed straight for him.

He raised his arms higher, his brown cloak flapping wildly around his legs. He gritted his teeth, his boyish persona replaced with something so powerful and ancient it stole my breath.

The air crackled.

The demons sped toward Jordan. I waited for him to fling the light and throw the demons back. But he just stood there.