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“To arms!” I bellowed, using a pulse of magic to amplify my voice. “Tonight, the false king dies! Rise up, citizens of Carcerem, and take back your home!” The ground trembled at my command.

I’d managed to rest while sailing along one of Copia’s great rivers in the queen’s borrowed ship. The moment I hit land andtraveled across the border between Copia and Carcerem, I’d unleashed the simmering energy that lurked inside of me.

Lightning cracked overhead, announcing my arrival as I blazed through the villages of Carcerem, a vengeful king on his way to battle.

“To Slyborn!” my command rang out. “Fight for your freedom, for your families. Avenge those who have fallen. Together, we will be victorious.”

Villagers emerged from their homes as I passed.

Voices were raised, shouts ringing out.

“It’s him, the lost king.”

“The prophecy is true.”

“He’s here to free us.”

Tears spilled. Fists shot into the air. Battle cries rang out. Those who were able raced for weapons. Inspired mobs rallied in my wake. My army, with their gaunt bodies, lack of armor, and pitchforks, was nothing compared to the trained soldiers I’d commanded previously. But what they lacked in skills, they made up for in spirit. This army would not abandon their king the moment the coins stopped flowing.

Word spread as I finished the tour of my kingdom. In the last village I entered, people lined the streets, awaiting my arrival, cheering as I flew past.

Chaos erupted behind me.

Chaos and rebellion.

Charging ahead, I left the seething villagers behind me. On the horizon, the castle loomed. My stallion’s thundering hooves ate up the distance, exploding against the earth.

As I drew closer, archers scrambled atop the castle walls. With the speed of my attack, I’d caught them unawares. Arrows whistled from the battlements, and I tossed a shield over myself and my steed. Armed foot soldiers raced to greet me. Too late.

I’d barely had any time to practice with my newfound skills, but it didn’t seem to matter. With my gods-given ability, my willbecame reality. With unpredictable results. Regardless, I didn’t need precision to destroy the false king, so long as he died.

I extended my glowing hand, launching a sharp punch of energy into the massive gates. They blew off their hinges, exploding into pieces. Shouts and screams rent the air. I galloped into the courtyard, hauling back on my reins.

Beneath me, the stallion quivered, stamping his feet. I dismounted and stormed up the walkway to the keep.

Milky-eyed soldiers rushed to form a barrier between me and the entrance. These miserable bastards would not keep me from my goal. Another blast of energy tore through them like a vengeful tornado, throwing broken bodies out of my path.

Despite the seriousness of the situation, I couldn’t help but grin at my success. Where had this power been all my life? It was positively delicious!

Finally, I set my hands on the massive doors. Finding it barred from the inside, I smirked. A small flick of my fingers blasted them inward.

To my surprise, the throne room was packed full of people. So many they spilled into the aisles, cowering against the walls. Unlike Idris’s usual audience, those gathered were simple folk. Instead of silks and jewels, they wore the garments of their trade. Aprons and dirt crusted boots. Britches with patches on the knees. They huddled together like sheep in a stockade. Mothers clutched their children to their bosoms. Their expressions were terrified.

Some stared at two fixed points on the wall. I followed the direction of their horrified stares. Suspended against the wall like some kind of macabre pieces of artwork were Drazen and Kronk. I sucked a breath at the sight of them. Several feet above the ground, they rested spread-eagle with their arms and legs bound by golden bands of energy while their heads hung loose upon their shoulders. Various wounds decorated their bodies, some seeping blood as though they’d recently been tortured.

Were they…?

No. Both of their chests rose and fell, their breathing pained and shallow. They were unconscious but alive. Thank the gods.

If Runa’s brothers were here, she couldn’t be far. I clenched my teeth, struggling to contain my worry. Where the hell was she?

“Greetings, Brother.”

Idris’s voice claimed my attention. Seated before me on the throne at the base of the sacred arbor was the false king. Raelynn stood at his side, blackened hand on his shoulder. Ready to lend him a burst of power should he require it. I knew all too well what the pair of them were capable of. It was like standing before a loaded gun. Still, I didn’t hesitate to stride up the center aisle.

When last I was here, it was as a prisoner. Recently exiled from a world where I never truly belonged. Weakened and manacled. So full of my own importance, I failed to comprehend the danger I faced. Today, I was here, fully aware of who and what I was, as well as my purpose.

The heels of my boots clicked on the cool marble tiles. Once I reached the circle at the foot of Idris’s throne, he held up a hand. “That will do.”