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Jasira let out a gasp as the blade penetrated her heart. Her hands shot out, gripping Thea as her legs gave way beneath her.

Thea let her slide to the ground, her dagger still protruding from Jasira’s chest. Behind them, Wilder, Talemir and Dratos emerged, covered in black blood, gaping at the storm raging around the cliffs.

The Veil will fall.

A rumbling noise sounded in the distance.

Beyond the churning seas, beyond the forks of lightning and roiling clouds, the impenetrable wall of mist, which had guarded and then haunted the midrealms for as long as anyone could remember, shuddered.

The impact reverberated in the earth beneath their boots, in the mountains past the cliffs, and in whatever realms existed outside their own.

In one cascading wave, the Veil fell.

And beyond it was golden light.

Thea slid her dagger from Jasira’s heart, wiping the blood on the dead princess’ cloak and turning to face the receding tempest.

The tide will turn when her blade is drawn.

Her storm took the remaining tendrils of darkness with it, revealing the sun’s watery morning rays, the blood-stained cliffs, and the plumes of smoke drifting from the rubble that was once the fortress of Thezmarr.

Thea slid her hand into Wilder’s as they surveyed the scorched world before them.

‘A dawn of fire and blood,’ Wilder murmured.

CHAPTER FIFTY

THEA

In the light of day, the devastation across Thezmarr was brutal. The once formidable stone walls that had stood tall for centuries had been reduced to piles of rubble and debris, some parts still on fire.

As Talemir set Thea down in the ruined courtyard, her knees threatened to give way. Once, it had been a hub of bustling activity, where warriors readied their horses, where shieldbearers were given their orders for the day. Now it was a sea of broken weapons, scorched earth and lifeless bodies. The cobblestones – or what remained of them – were stained with black and red blood, marking where defenders of the midrealms had fallen against their monstrous enemy.

Thea’s storm had swept away the scent of burnt hair, but in its place, the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood and the heavy odour of burning wood. Beyond the courtyard, the fortress itself was in ruins too. Heart sinking, Thea approached the edge of a crater in the building. The mighty stone Furies, the monuments Thea had vowed to carve Anya’s name upon, had toppled, taking half of the Great Hall with them.

‘What happened here?’ Her voice was raw, and she wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular, just staring in a daze at the mass of rubble.

‘Kipp blew it up from below,’ Wilder said at her side. ‘There was a portal… The hall was overrun with wraiths…’

‘And the wraiths, the howlers…?’ Her eyes roamed the splintered timber, the dust drifting through the air, the broken bodies among the wreckage.

‘Those who were sired by the reapers we killed on the cliffs perished,’ Talemir answered, approaching the pit of debris, his arms folded over his chest.

Drue came to his side, nodding. ‘They turned to ash right before our eyes. Your and Wren’s storms swept them away in the wind.’

‘And the rest?’ Thea pressed.

‘We killed all the remaining howlers. We took no prisoners —’

‘But the wraiths? The reapers? Those who weren’t linked to the ones killed in the caves?’

Drue sighed. ‘We did what we could. Cal and his men shot them out of the sky. But we didn’t get them all. Without an aerial force of our own, we couldn’t run them down. Some escaped.’

Thea’s stomach roiled with unease.

‘It was the best we could hope for,’ Audra’s voice sounded.

Thea looked up at her former warden, the former librarian of Thezmarr, her armour slick with blood, her weapons still unsheathed at her sides.