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‘Bring it down,’ he said at last. ‘Bring the whole fucking thing down.’

He didn’t need to ask her twice.

Thea rallied her strength, her power, and threw everything she had at the Scarlet Tower. The place that had held her love captive, that had hurt him, that had seen monsters created and thrust upon the midrealms…

‘I am the storm,’ she told herself.

She let her lightning rage, right alongside her heart, and she split the gods-damned tower in two.

CHAPTER SEVEN

WILDER

Still clutching his swords, Wilder watched in awe and reverence as his love took on the world for him. A deafening crack echoed through the night as a white bolt struck the spire in a blinding flash. The entire tower groaned, its ancient stones falling away with the force of the impact – impact that vibrated through the earth, through Wilder’s bones.

Time seemed to slow, caught in the breathless moment between disbelief and inevitability. With a cataclysmic crescendo of lightning, Thea shattered the Scarlet Tower into two halves, its black heart exposed to the realms as it broke apart. For a second the pieces teetered on the brink of ruin, before succumbing to the unforgiving embrace of gravity. The horrific interior of cells and torture chambers was wrenched apart, destroyed in thick clouds of dust and flame as whatever concoctions stored there were detonated. The remains were sent hurtling towards the ground below.

Together, Wilder and Thea watched the tower collapse, chains and charred stone cascading in a dance of total decimation, laying bare the underbelly of the prison.

Only when the Scarlet Tower lay in ruins upon the storm-and battle-scarred land did Thea stop. Her hands fell to her sides, tendrils of smoke drifting from her fingers.

Wilder wanted nothing more than to gather her in his arms, to breathe in her sea-salt-and-bergamot scent and hold her close, but something snagged his attention —

Movement on the ground.

As more smoke and shadows dissipated, he saw Aemund.

The man’s lower half was crushed beneath a pile of debris, blood pouring from the wound. His eyes were wide, his face pale and sweaty, but he made no sound despite his clear agony. Instead, his gaze seemed to implore Wilder.

Thea seemed to understand before he did, handing him her dagger wordlessly.

Inhaling deeply, trying to steady himself, Wilder crouched at Aemund’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder.

‘I’m glad you destroyed it,’ Aemund rasped. ‘Glad it’s been wiped from the world.’

Wilder didn’t have the energy to mask his pity. He had only spent two weeks inside the tower, but Aemund… Aemund had been subject to its torture for years.

‘Please,’ Aemund said. ‘End it.’

Wilder lowered his voice. ‘We can try to get you out of here.’

Aemund attempted to shake his head. ‘I thought for a time that perhaps I could have a life beyond this place, but… No. I don’t want it.’ He took another rattling gasp. ‘The darkness will follow me always. Please, do me this kindness.’

A lump forming in his throat, Wilder nodded. ‘Go in peace, my friend,’ he told him. And then he slipped Malik’s dagger between Aemund’s ribs, right into his heart.

Aemund’s eyes went wide, his expression morphing into one of pure relief before he took his final breath. Wilder’s body sagged as he removed the blade, and he felt Thea beside him.

‘It was what he wanted,’ she said quietly.

‘I know,’ he croaked.

For a moment he stayed like that, on his knees in the dirt by the corpse of a man he hardly knew, as fragments of shadow fell around them like ash in the wind. He barely registered Thea looping his arm around her shoulders and hauling him to his feet.

‘I’ve got you,’ she murmured.

He leant into her. Beneath the sweat, grime and blood, she smelt of home. He paused, drawing her face to his so that he could kiss her —

Power surged around them; strangely familiar, but not belonging to Thea.