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Like called to like. Her flame, the one tethered to her soul, was a part of her. Not separate. Not independent. Evelyn grasped what she knew, strong enough to manipulate it without using her power.

“Damn dandelions,” Tessa breathed next to her.

The third bonfire burst upward, and Evelyn swayed the snaked flame to the next. A third wall of fire whooshed as they connected.

Far Darrig screeched behind them. The ones fighting Cyrus turned and rushed atop the platform toward Evelyn and Tessa.

As Evelyn and Cyrus had wanted.

Taking Tessa’s hand, Evelyn rounded back, leading the horrid, tiny faeries around the platform until she reached the one side open and without fire.

Cyrus nodded, a glint of something in his eyes she could not decipher.

“Push them back!” he cried.

Together, the three of them fought and pushed the Far Darrig onto the platform. Evelyn used her staff, thrusting and hitting Far Darrig. Tessa held her own, kicking their attackers one after the other. Some of the tribe members threw poisonous mushrooms, but Cyrus charged, the sight of his blood-soaked blade sending horror through the faeries as they retreated.

Above, the Gray Wood shuddered. Roots slithered, trunks trembled, and branches swayed. The darkness in the crown, still looped through Evelyn’s arm, cried out. She eyed the mysterious, enchanted object. Again, her magic slithered with caution, sensing it was a wretched and wrong thing.

Evelyn took hold of it and the Gray Wood sent out a desperate plea, its magic reaching out to her like a hand reaching for help. Most of the tribe had been pushed onto the platform, the plan almost complete.

It was time Evelyn ended this.

She’d needed her energy to complete the walls, and she needed the Far Darrig to fight Cyrus and not her, all so she could trap them, herd them like cattle into the walls of fire. She threw out her arms, reaching out to the two bonfires, the last ones standing unconnected. She shut her eyes, gritted her teeth. She didn’t need her own flame.

Strong enough without it, she felt belief and will flourishing through her.

This time, the bonfires answered her pull like old friends answering a call to arms. They listened, bent to her will as if she’d made them her own, rallied them to her own magic and being.

With her last bit of energy, Evelyn pulled as if she held chains, yanking the powers from either side. The last wall of fire formed, dancing oranges, yellows, and reds flaring upward. Tangled, hot, and hungry, the flames trapped the faeries.

The Far Darrig cried out. Pain. Fear. Despair. Evelyn possessed not an ounce of mercy. They’d tried to kill her. Hurt Cyrus. Behead an innocent young woman. No. Whatever this was, whatever dark magic was at play, it was Evelyn’s fight, her duty to protect those in Callum against it.

Evelyn tossed the crown into the fire, flames turning black and green, spitting and hissing until wisps of red and orange took over, engulfing the branches and destroying the dark magic.

The Gray Wood trembled again, and the canopy opened to the light of dusk.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Kade

The Far Darrig tribe’s cries of agony and anger rang out like a warped chorus of victory.

Evelyn’s gaze snagged Kade’s. Sweat trickled down her brow and soaked her blouse, clinging to her heaving chest. Kade breathed deep, his attraction and respect for her growing, his stomach fluttering.

Stars above, Evelyn was willing to take risks to protect and save others.

The forest tremored, and an ancient magic, one that reminded Kade of the Vadon Mountains back home, awakened beneath their feet. Ash branches braved the walls of fire, grabbing and tossing the Far Darrig into the flames. Roots broke through the platform, dragging the faeries underground or constricting them with brutal strength.

Whatever power the crown had possessed, it had controlled the Gray Wood, and not only had Evelyn trapped the Far Darrig and saved Tessa, but she’d also set the forest free by destroying the darkness.

The Gray Wood fought back.

“Saige!” he cried, joining her side.

Tessa stood close behind, cuts bleeding through her dress but otherwise unharmed.

They had no time to discuss or celebrate. The cries of the Far Darrig rang out over the roaring fire. Trapped inside the Gray Wood, they came to a brutal end. Portions of the Gray Wood canopy snapped and fell.