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Thea had ruled death time and time again, so many times she had become its shadow. Bolts of blinding white danced along the steel as she closed the gap between herself and Jasira in three quick steps.

When the skies are blackened, in the end of days…

The princess’ eyes widened, her shadows faltering.

‘It ends here, Jasira,’ Thea said quietly.

‘It never ends, Thea. You think it matters that you might take the fortress? My darkness is everywhere. In the air around us, in the land, in the hearts of monsters and men. In you.’

Thea struck out with her lightning —

Jasira’s shadows swallowed it whole.

Gripping her sword, Thea lunged, but an invisible force hit her hard in the chest and her knees buckled beneath her, her blade clattering to the ground. She suddenly couldn’t take in enough air, and she gasped raggedly, her lungs burning as empath magic assaulted her.

Jasira faded from her vision, and in her place was Wren, a vine blight wrapping itself around her as she screamed in agony. It drew her into its tangled, poisonous nest as her limbs flailed and she sobbed.

Thea shouted, but no sound came out.

Sam and Ida’s heads on spikes came next, their expressions frozen in horror, their faces lined with evidence of their horrific torment.

Bile hit the back of Thea’s throat.

A flash of shadow momentarily blinded her before revealing Anya’s broken corpse on the cobblestones of the fortress. And Kipp’s. And Cal’s. All dead.

‘No!’ The word came out as a whisper.

Thea was on the blood-slick cobbles with them, and Wilder was dying in her arms, the light leaving his silver eyes.

‘It never ends,’ Jasira said again, her voice distant and eerie.

A vicious onslaught of images attacked Thea – memories, fears, futures that threatened to come to pass, all encompassing her in a whirlwind of pain and sorrow that had her choking on her sobs.

This was what the most powerful empath in history could do backed by shadow magic, backed by an army of monsters.

On her knees, tears streaming down her face, breath shuddering out of her, Thea reached for the one thing she had left. Her fingertips brushed the jewelled dagger at her belt.

‘You were not born to wield steel and steel alone.’

Lightning crackled in her veins once more and she felt an otherworldly presence surround her – not one of darkness and malice, but one of fury.

Iseldra. Morwynn. Valdara.

They were here.

The Furies were with her.

‘There are few who can face themselves as well as their nightmares and emerge whole on the other side,’ they whispered.

Shadows dispersed, revealing the former Princess of Harenth, her eyes wide.

Unsheathing the fine blade, Thea staggered to her feet, charging the steel with her storm magic, her Warsword vows coming back to her in a rush of power.

‘I swore to cast the evil from these lands. I swore to hunt, punish and kill any and all who threaten these kingdoms. It does end, Jasira. And it ends with you.’

‘No, I —’

Thea thrust her dagger between the princess’ ribs, through flesh and bone, just like she’d done to all the monsters who’d come before.