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Chapter Seventy-Six

Jasce

For two days, we’ve followed Asha’s path through my territory. The distance between us has shrunk hour by hour, marked by trampled grass and hastily abandoned campsites still warm with dying embers.

Now we’ve finally caught up with her.

I pause atop my horse, my fingers tight on the reins as I savor this moment, watching the Watchers turn on Asha, their betrayal as swift and precise as a blade between the ribs.

“Now,” I say, giving the command for my warriors to attack.

Reeve leads the main force through the dense forest to the east. Jude’s contingent emerges from a canyon to the west. I direct my forces straight down the center, splitting Asha’s army like a wedge.

The three-pronged attack catches them completely off guard. Before they can mount a proper defense, we’re already inside their ranks. Reeve’s forces cut off their retreat while Jude’s men prevent them from regrouping.

Through the chaos, I spot a familiar flash of reddish-brown hair. Annora stands atop a ridge, her arms raised to the sky. The air crackles with power as Emberdione materializes above her.

The Phoenix’s screech splits the air, and streams of fire rain down on Asha’s forces. Men scatter, their armor melting, their weapons dropping from burned hands.

I slam my fist into a warrior’s face, crushing bone. Another rushes me with a spear. I catch the shaft, ignite it, and drive the burning wood through his chest.

Annora directs Emberdione toward a cluster of archers taking aim at our forces. The Phoenix dives, her flames engulfing them in seconds.

Pride swells in my chest as I watch my wife command such devastating power. Gone is her hesitation, her fear. In its place burns a fierce determination to end this war.

Annora and I move as one across the battlefield, her Phoenix above, my inferno below. House of Silver warriors fall by the dozens before our combined might.

Through the carnage, I catch sight of Asha. Her voice carries, urging her warriors to hold the line.

As I close the distance between us, her eyes lock with mine—fierce, defiant, burning with the same determination I’ve seen countless times in Annora’s gaze.

Our blades meet in a shower of sparks.

I could end this quickly, drive my sword through her guard, and finish what we started, but that choice belongs to Annora.

Only she can decide her sister’s Fate.

Until then, I’ll keep Asha occupied, wearing her down until she can fight no more. My blade whistles past her ear—a warning, not a killing stroke. Her eyes narrow, recognizing my restraint for what it is.

Above us, Emberdione’s wings block out the sun as Annora guides her Phoenix closer.

Metal scrapes against metal as I twist my sword around Asha’s. The move catches her off guard, and her blade goes flying, landing point-first in the blood soaked earth several feet away.

I press my sword to her throat. “Surrender.”

Her eyes narrow to slits, that familiar stubborn set to her jaw reminding me so much of Annora. But where Annora’s defiance stems from compassion, Asha’s burns with cold fury.

“Surrender,” I command again, adding more pressure to drive home the point.

For a moment, I think she’ll force my hand, then her shoulders slump, and she raises her arms, her voice carrying across the battlefield. “Lower your weapons.”

Around us, the clash of steel fades as her warriors throw down their swords.