Page 39

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

“F ERON!” I SHOUTED, POINTING TO the soldiers marching on Volcar. Feron sat high on a slab of rock he’d pulled from the ground, his eyes glowing bright violet.

He lifted his hands, and a wall of stone broke from the ground, blocking access to the city from the main road. Damien’s army broke apart immediately, anticipating the maneuver, and lined the stone that now created a wall around the entire city.

“Again!” I roared but Feron didn’t move his hand. He let it hang in the air, frozen in time as ashy snow fell across his face. Only when the soldiers had thinned their lines to three men deep did he act.

His fist shook as he pulled his arm down with all his might. He let out a guttural scream, the veins in his neck threatening to rupture as he used his gift to split the ground in two.

Bodies tumbled into the chasm that now divided the new city wall from the outer fields. Some men ran back. Others clutched roots and dirt to keep from falling in, but they were swallowed by the sea as the channel waters came rushing into the rift. The waves thrashed against the banks, spraying salty mist into the faces of the survivors.

A thick root wrapped around my waist and as well as the others’, carrying us to the field of battle below. We dropped onto the ground, and I saw Feron collapsed against his seat, chest rising as his violet eyes dimmed.

Men flooded the port and released the lines holding their ships. The sound of creaking wood boomed against the mountain as the thrashing waters split the port in two. My stomach hardened. The vessel manned by the Dagger fought the currents. The three ships ahead of his fled as the rest carried into the chasm. The crews jumped into the water, hoping to swim to shore, but instead fell onto the jagged rocks that now punctured the sea.

My head snapped to Feron, his eyes glowing purple once more.

But the Dagger survived. He leaped the grand mast, his fingernails clinging to the edge of the chasm instead of falling to his death. My nose wrinkled as he climbed onto the soft grass on the Volcar side of the chasm. The pendant pulsed against his chest.

Gerarda aimed her bow at him but I grabbed her arrow. I nodded at the eastern horizon that was now completely dark. “That pendant is the only thing keeping the shirak from laying the city to waste.”

Her jaw jutted to the side. “I will kill my successor if I so wish.”

“As is your right.” I nodded. “Get that pendant and kill him however many times you like.”

Gerarda’s answering smile was sharp like the point of her drawn arrow. “A little help.” She smirked.

I braided a length of gust around the end of the bolt. She let it fly—farther than any arrow should. A soldier climbing over the city wall fell to his doom and took three others with him.

The ground shook as a piercing cry split the skies.

The Dagger lifted his arm, and one of the shirak descended upon us. I grit my teeth. My powers flared as I pushed my gusts beyond moving air. A small cloud formed under the belly of the waateyshir and expanded underneath as it flew toward us. Lightning flashed inside and I raised my arms, pushing the growing storm higher and the waateyshir with it. It tried to fly through it, but the swirling hail thrashed at its wings. The beast flew higher, waiting for an opening.

Soldiers carried ladders from stockpiles on the beach. Damien had suspected Feron’s line of attack and planned a countermove. He had everything he needed to build a bridge over the moat. The soldiers charged forward and shoved the gigantic ladders across the gap. I glanced at Feron, but he was slumped over, chest heaving and brow slick with sweat.

Soldiers surrounded the Dagger with their shields as he doubled over, clutching the pendant at his chest. The beast shrieked high above the storm. I turned to Gerarda and Syrra as I created a hole through the center of the swirling clouds. “We may only have one shot at this,” I told them.

They grinned at each other.

“One shot is all I need,” Syrra said.

The Dagger stood tall and hoisted his sword arm into the air. His pendant glowed like a beacon, ushering his beast toward the ground. The waateyshir tucked its wings and plummeted through the storm’s eye.

Gerarda released her shadows. They sprawled from her limbs in thick sheets, covering the battlefield in a blanket of darkness. She lifted her hands, and the shadows grew thicker, rising above our heads until not a single Elverin or soldier could see anything at all.

The beast began to whistle. Rot and sulfur filled my nostrils as loose strands of hair were sucked upward along my cheek.

“Now!” I shouted, preparing myself to shield as many as I could with my earth wielding. But there was no need.

Fyrel had transformed herself into a gargantuan beast. She snarled, spit dripping from fangs that were larger than me as she stood on her hind legs. She was taller than the masts of the ships, taller than the trees that grew in the frostbitten soil of Volcar. Tall and large enough to throw a thick spear toward the waateyshir .

But it was no spear.

Syrra was perfectly aligned—body straight as an arrow—as Fyrel launched her toward the sky. The beast opened its wings in shock, just as Syrra had wanted. She twisted midair and swung her golden sword into the beast’s red center.

But the waateyshir snapped its beak. It caught Syrra’s boot and flung her to the left. The edge of her blade scraped the beast’s wing, and it erupted into a terrifying screech. The air turned hot as inky shadows leaked from its wing. It hung its head like it was in pain, but there was no blood leaking from its body, only hot tendrils of darkness that scorched the ground as they fell.

Everyone went still. Not a soul moved in the city or the battlefield outside of it. None except for the Dagger, who was waving his arm with a hand against his chest. The pendant’s glow had begun to fade as the beast thrashed and flapped.

Syrra twisted in the air before hitting the ground. She spread her arms wide and thick flaps of leather snapped taut between her vest and wrist guards. Nikolai’s latest invention. I stoked my gusts under her belly and she caught flight on the current. She leaned, dodging the leaking shadow from the beast that raged overhead. She landed and winced. The top of her boot was burned away.

Gwyn pulled it off, ripping a layer of skin with it. Syrra’s scream was drowned out by the low call of a horn.

I looked to the channel. The horn was not one of Damien’s but ours. Myrrah’s ships circled the island and were rounding on the eastern side of the channel. They moved fast and without sails, floating on the currents that Myrrah directed from the middle ship. Crison stood at the top of the middle mast, arms pointing to the sky.

The two other shadowy beasts no longer circled the smoking mountain but were coming to defend their kin. I searched for the Dagger and found him in a crowd of soldiers—the pendant on his chest completely dark.

We were all under attack.

Syrra’s eyes widened, tracking the beast. She pointed to her leg. “Heal it!”

I assessed her wound. Her brown skin was bubbled and black, covered in dirt and ash. “I can’t heal it without cleaning it first. The beast’s magic still lingers. I know how to get rid of it.”

Syrra opened her mouth to argue but Gwyn stuffed one of Nikolai’s handkerchiefs between her lips. The Elf grunted as Gwyn poured water over the wound. Syrra clamped down on the cloth, the tendons in her neck flexing as she screamed into her gag. Gwyn raised a glowing finger and looked up at Nikolai and Elaran.

“Hold her.” She glanced at Syrra, whose shorn head was covered with sweat as her chest pumped violently against her leathers. Gwyn’s mouth fell to a straight line. “Tightly. This is going to hurt much worse.”

She drew the rune directly onto Syrra’s open flesh. The amber glow inked itself onto the bloodied and burnt skin like it was paper.

“What are you doing?” I asked, horrified at the vessels popping in Syrra’s eyes.

“Debriding the wound.” Gwyn finished the spell and Syrra went limp. “The elixirs that clean the wound of an Unnamed One were also used to debride wounds left by the shirak, but the death rune works in a pinch.”

Nikolai tugged his hair. “Death rune?”

Gwyn nodded. “It kills anything that may contaminate the wound. You can heal her now. There won’t be any adverse effects.”

“That’s dark magic, Gwyn.” I couldn’t hide the worry in my voice.

She only shrugged.

“Magic takes its toll.” I frowned. “You’re not exempt from that.”

Gwyn raised a brow at Syrra’s cleaned leg. “I will gladly pay it.”

“And what happens when the cost is too high?”

Gwyn just shrugged.

I grabbed her arm and whispered, “What happens if it is someone else who pays it?” I turned her shoulders so she was facing Fyrel. Gwyn’s cheeks heated. Her gaze dropped to Brenna’s name along my arm. She knew enough of my past to know how high that cost could be.

“The Halflings!” Elaran shouted, drawing her sword as the first of the new beasts attacked. Black fire and ash rained down on the city of Volcar, smashing through the wall that Feron had created and taking out everyone within the blast radius. Damien’s soldiers moved as one, as if he were controlling all theirs minds at once. They ran toward the city with their swords drawn.

“He doesn’t care about the beasts,” I balked. “As long as his men slaughter every Halfling in the city.” Panic struck my chest. Damien hadn’t sent the Dagger to use the shirak to attack us—he knew one pendant wouldn’t be enough to control them for long. They were merely a distraction. Something we had to fight while his men stormed the city. And he didn’t care if his men died during the siege.

He wanted a bloodbath.

“Attack with everything you have. Fyrel, we’ll try to draw the beasts away from the city.” They all nodded at me. Fyrel lowered so Syrra could climb on as she blew her horn. Fyrel reared back and they rode toward the city as brumal bear and rider.

Pirmiith’s horn answered Syrra’s call. He and Riven led the charge of Elverin on horseback. The front line clung to their horses with their thighs and shot arrow after arrow at the closest soldiers.

My stomach hardened watching Riven’s black cloak disappear into the chaos as Gerarda’s shadows faded. I turned to Dynara. “You work to get as many Halflings out of the city as you can. Portal them to safety. Take these two with you; they’re excellent fighters.” Gwyn beamed as I looked at her and Elaran. “Don’t use your powers in front of the soldiers.”

Gwyn’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”

Elaran wrapped her arm around her neck. “Because Keera is saving the best in her beast form for last, Ring.”

I nodded, watching the skies as another fiery blast rained down on Volcar. “This is not our last battle. Damien can’t have time to plan around every one of our advantages—some of our strength needs to be a surprise.” Gwyn’s lip twitched but she nodded.

Dynara’s eyes glowed amber and she opened a portal. A thin veil of mist formed over the circle but we could see the devastation on the other side. Dwellings were burning. Children and parents were screaming, tripping over each other as people began pointing their fingers at anyone they thought was Halfling. The stone streets were already wet with amber blood.

The three slipped through the portal and Dynara closed it behind them. I turned to the battlefield. Syrra and Fyrel had lured one of the shirak onto the field of battle. A bone-shaking whistle echoed through the grounds as it aimed its attack along Damien’s ranks.

Another horn blew from the sea—Myrrah was in trouble. The three ships that had survived the channel were heading them off before they got to Volcar and another six had circled around the island behind Myrrah’s fleet.

“Go.” Gerarda nodded in the direction of the sea. “Feron and I can protect the ranks here.” She lifted her shadow-covered hand.

Guilt tore at my throat. I just needed to do something . Make swift decisions before any more people died. I transformed into my eagle form and set off to Myrrah’s ship. I soared over the battle, watching as Syrra launched another attack against the injured waateyshir . Dodging stray arrows was easy but leaving Riven alone to fight three soldiers at once took all the willpower I had.

I landed on the eagle’s nest of Myrrah’s ship. Crison stepped aside as I transformed back into my Fae form.

“Can you sink these ships?” I called down to Myrrah, who had parked her chair in front of the large wooden wheel of the ship.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Myrrah said, her face red and puffy. Two of Damien’s ships began to swirl, caught in the whirlpools Myrrah had created underneath their hulls. “You just going to sit up there and watch?” She shouted up at me.

I stepped over the banister—ready to transform—but Crison grabbed my arm. “I can take three.” She looked up. Above the thin storm clouds that lingered from my magic was something bigger and scarier.

A gigantic flock of gulls. Crison’s eyes glowed, commanding them all. She had beckoned them from the coast their entire sail and now they circled overhead, poised for an attack.

I nodded and that’s all Crison needed. The birds descended and the three farthest ships disappeared into a haze of white wings. The vessels slowed as the gulls tore through their sails. The crew’s shouts of frustration turned to screams of horror as the birds descended on them, pecking at their flesh and eyes.

Sweat pooled along Crison’s brow but she didn’t relent—not until the cries of pain over the water had silenced. I transformed and landed on the top sail of a remaining ship. There was a flash of light, and I stabbed my dagger through the largest sail and jumped, slicing through it all the way down. The men couldn’t grab their swords quick enough. I sucked the air from each of their throats until their bodies crumpled to the deck, dead and already forgotten.

“Keera!” Myrrah called as I destroyed a third ship. I turned and saw that Myrrah had not captured the last of hers. Instead, it sailed at full speed toward the city. I transformed but the ship crashed onto the shore before I could reach it.

Soldiers spilled out of the hull like ants invading the beach.

The Elverin split and met the soldiers head-on. The heavy clanks of swords were accented by the groans of fallen men—some dressed in leather, some in metal. The casualties climbed on both sides. I climbed too, flapping my wings until I thought they would fall off. A black mass appeared below, soaring on the same gust of wind that I was, silent and lurking. I held my breath to keep the stench of death from choking me. The red center of the waateyshir pulsed through its back, teasing and so, so close.

All I needed was one perfect hit.

I banked right. The waateyshir showed no signs that it knew I was there. I took a deep breath and plunged. I passed through the space between its wing and neck and then I transformed. It reared back from the flash of light, opening its chest. I grabbed for my dagger and plunged it into …

… thin air.

I missed. By less than a foot. I plummeted to the ground trying to stow my dagger before I transformed again, but the sheath was flapping in the rush of air. The open chasm grew closer, but I refused to let go of the dagger. It still needed to claim Damien’s life with it. I was not going to let it sink to the bottom of the ocean.

The waateyshir shrieked in anger, blasting another attack onto the city. I gripped the handle and prepared myself for an icy drop into the sea as a spout of water rose to catch me. But it never did.

Instead, soft fur skimmed my face, and I instinctively grabbed for anything I could. I held onto Fyrel’s fur as she leaped across the chasm. She landed, swatting her giants paws and knocking dozens of soldiers into the water.

I slid down her back and stowed my dagger as Fyrel chased more soldiers away. My skin heated with my flames as I launched balls of fire at the soldiers’ throats. Another cry echoed from above as one of the shirak dove toward us. It whistled and its throat filled with black fire. I groaned and a wall of stone erupted from the earth, shielding everyone underneath it. I turned and saw a similar shield of stone over the northside of the city as another beast spouted its deadly flames onto those below. It crumbled as it fell back into the earth. Feron was at the ends of his magic.

A portal appeared beside me. Dynara stepped through dragging Gerarda with her.

“I have an idea.” She wiped her hair from her face.

Gerarda’s eyes immediately fell to Dynara. “Where is El?”

“She’s alive,” Dynara answered. “Gwyn too.”

Relief flood through my chest.

Dynara grabbed Gerarda by her vest. “Can you cover the field in blackness like you did before? As tall and as wide as you can manage.”

“Yes.” Gerarda’s brow crinkled. “But not for long.”

Dynara opened another portal and yanked Crison through it. The rage in her face broke the instant she saw Dynara. “How many Unnamed could you summon with your gift?” Dynara asked her.

Crison’s face paled. She had only heard of the Unnamed but had never faced one yet. “Several. But I don’t know how much control I would have over beasts like that.”

Dynara smiled. “You won’t need to.”

She let out a low whistle in two long tones followed by two short ones. It was the same signal that the scouts along the portal at Myrelinth used when the Unnamed Ones were spotted along the trail in the Singing Wood. Every Elverin fighter who could retreated for the higher plains, abandoning the valley completely. The ground began to rumble, and one by one our remaining fighters were pushed into the air far above our heads on towers of rock too strong for even the Unnamed’s claws to strike through.

My chest tightened with concern for Feron, but I couldn’t let it crowd my thoughts. Nikolai would take care of him. He had too.

“Be silent.” Dynara ordered as she opened a portal. It was almost completely black on the other side, but I could see the twisted trunks of the Singing Wood through the layers of shadow. A soft breeze blew through them, and a child’s giggle echoed through the field.

The soldiers turned toward the sound.

“Now!” Dynara shouted to both Crison and Gerarda.

Dynara grabbed my hand and broke into a run, Fyrel following close behind as Gerarda covered the field in darkness. It settled like a dense fog, claiming each of the soldiers until the entire battlefield was covered and the city was left untouched. I knelt, feeling for Gerarda through the earth and pushed her out of the darkness on a pillar of stone.

Crison stood beside Dynara, her eyes amber beacons in the darkness as she called the Unnamed Ones toward the portal. They stalked on four legs, with fangs as long as the antlers on their heads. Rotten flesh left their jaws and ribs exposed—tender spots they would defend with their sharp, black claws.

Soldiers shouted and lit their torches as the first guttural cries from the Unnamed sounded in the valley. I wrapped my arms around Dynara, Crison, and Fyrel and shielded us in a circle of stone. I left a sliver of space to watch from, but there was nothing to see. All we could hear were the screams.

In every direction, the soldiers shouted and cried, not realizing they were beckoning a bloody death toward them every time they struck a match. That was enough to ignite a deadly rampage. Within minutes, the shouts had gone silent. Gerarda’s shadows thinned. An Unnamed hissed as the moonlight hit its skin and ran for thicker shadow. The darkness around us dissipated and I dropped our shield.

Crison’s eyes glowed once more and she and Gerarda worked together to send the Unnamed back through the portal, Crison with her magic nudging and Gerarda by creating snakelike paths of darkness that converged at the mouth of the portal threshold. I touched the ground and felt the last of the beasts step back into their wood.

Dynara silently maneuvered around shredded bodies and over scattered armor. I held my breath as she smashed her fist through the portal and it shattered. I exhaled, knowing the Unnamed couldn’t make their way back onto the field.

Torn bodies covered the grass in every direction. Most were in pieces too small to recognize, but all oozed with black decay. I lowered the stone pillars holding the Elverin back to the ground as a waateyshir circled overhead, cautious and quiet.

Dynara opened a portal to the city center. A soldier backed away from the mist in fear. He spotted the amber glow of Dynara’s eyes and raised his sword, but Elaran pounced on his shoulder. His sword fell to the ground and so did he.

El ran through the portal to Gerarda. She pulled her into a quick embrace before addressing the rest of us. “The Halflings that were in the streets are back in Myrelinth with Rheih.” She turned to Dynara. “The portal is still open.” Dynara nodded and ran into the streets of Volcar to close it.

Gerarda wiped the single streak of blood from Elaran’s cheek as Dynara ran back through the portal with Riven. My chest heaved with relief. His face was splattered with blood and ash, but he was alive.

His eyes locked on me, filling with the same relief, but then settled on something over my shoulder. A pile of torn-apart bodies began to move and from it stood the Dagger. His magic eye was thick and pulsed amber. It seemed as though Damien had enough knowledge of the Unnamed Ones to hide his host in a pile of dead soldiers. The Dagger smirked, the pendant along his chest glowing bright once again.

That was why the waateyshirak had stalled their attacks. I glanced up and saw all three circling in orbit above us: one leaking fiery shadow from its bent wing and the others hungry and waiting. My eyes fell to the pendant. It was our only chance to save whatever Halflings were left in the city.

I ran without thinking. The others shouted behind me, but I couldn’t stop. I grabbed a handful of arrows from my full quiver and shot them at the Dagger, my gusts carrying them toward his head. He rolled onto the grass, using the body of a dead boy to block my shot.

The amber pupil went still at the impact. I snarled as the Dagger, now in control of his own body, started to run. I picked up a spear mid-stride and threw it at him. The shaft reverberated, hitting the ground right where he would have been, but he stopped. He turned to face me once more, his pendant glowing once again. I recognized Damien’s smirk as the three shirak screeched and dove toward Volcar.

He pulled the pendant from the Dagger’s leathers and threw it to the ground.

“No!” I screamed, stumbling on a piece of armor.

Damien slammed the sword down onto the pendant. The glow pulsed but the glass didn’t break. Damien raised his arm again. The blade was long and covered in the sticky black venom.

My breath hitched as the thin thread of a portal appeared behind him. Riven slipped through, reaching for the pendant.

Damien’s lips didn’t even twitch as he swung his arms back down. This time his target wasn’t the pendant, but Riven’s arm. I looked over my shoulder and saw Dynara standing with the others, but they stood around the portal watching Riven reach for it instead of what Damien was doing. I shot a gust, trying to stop Damien’s blade but it hit too low. It blew against his feet, throwing them into the air, but Damien was already through his swing. The Dagger’s body fell to the ground and the inky blade severed Riven’s forearm.

Riven crumpled to the ground behind me in shouts of pain as Damien laughed. He stabbed the pendant with the blunt end of a dagger and it shattered into pieces.

I hurled myself at his host. Damien was still laughing as I knocked him back to the ground. “Do you see it now?” he mused in a voice much too low to be his own. “You attack me, and we all lose. There can only be one king of Elverath and it will be—”

I snapped the Dagger’s neck before Damien could speak another word. His body crumpled into a pile of nothing. I ran to Riven. Amber blood splattered along the ground as he coughed. His arm had been cut a few inches below the elbow and lay discarded a few feet from him through the portal.

The decay from the Unnamed One’s saliva was already eating through the flesh.

My chin shook as I tried to find the words. “I need to get you to Rheih,” I choked.

“ Diizra ,” Riven coughed. “There’s no time.”

“No. We can fix this.” My vision blurred. “I just need Rheih. No, Gwyn. Gwyn!” I looked at Dynara.

Dynara opened a portal to a group of Halflings in Myrelinth. She pulled Gwyn through and closed the portal behind them.

Gwyn paled as she saw Riven.

“ Diizra , there’s no time—”

“Yes, there is. We can fix this.” I turned to Gwyn. “Fix him and I can heal his arm back together.”

Gwyn shook her head. “I can’t.”

“Use the debriding spell. I just watched you do it.” My hands shook as I wiped the hair from Riven’s face.

“Keera,” Riven said with as much force as he could manage. “You need to h-heal it now or it will f-fester. You have a m-minute at th-the most.”

I froze. “Or what?”

“Or he dies,” Gwyn answered. “You can debride a cut made by the Unnamed One’s claws but this”—she pointed at the sword dripping in thick, black liquid—“is Unnamed saliva. It’s too potent to debride.”

Riven groaned. The saliva was eating through the end of his detached arm. “What about this?” I waved my hand over Riven’s wound that was also lined in black saliva.

Gwyn’s face was hard. “We amputate.”

“No.”

“Do it, diizra,” Riven urged.

My throat tightened. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t maim Riven even more than he already was. My mind understood the logic, but my body resisted.

Gerarda stepped forward. “I will do it.”

Gwyn cut the tongue of a discarded boot and stuffed it into Riven’s mouth. Tears streamed down my face as Gerarda blanketed me with her shadows so I couldn’t see anything except the raise of her sword.

The shadows disappeared. Gerarda had only taken a couple inches, leaving his elbow intact but discarding the rest of the rotting flesh and bone.

“You have to heal the amputation, Keera.” Gwyn knelt and placed a hand on my back. “Now before he loses more blood.”

There was a deafening shriek. I turned and saw the injured waateyshir explode into pieces above the stone wall. Syrra’s golden sword sticking from its chest. The others roared in rage descending on Syrra.

“Dynara, take Fyrel.” I nodded at the shirak . “And Gerarda and Elaran too.”

She nodded. “I’ll be right back for Riven.”

I took in a shaky breath as my hands grasped Riven’s bleeding arm. My healing gift surged forward the moment my skin met his. It swirled around the length of his arm, as if looking for what had been cut away, and finally healed over the blunt end that would never hold a hand again.

A waateyshir fired an attack onto the city and people fled back into the field to avoid the blast. Commoners and soldiers alike ran, each desperate to put as much distance between them and the shirak as possible. I looked at the shattered pendant on the ground. There was no hope of controlling the beasts now. And there was no chance we could hold them off until the suns rose.

Dynara reappeared through a portal. “Take Crison and Gwyn—”

“But I want to fight!” Gwyn cut in.

My jaw hardened. “Gwyn, that’s an order.”

Her mouth snapped shut. She didn’t need to be told again.

I turned back to Dynara. “Get Riven back. Gwyn and Crison can help gather Feron and the injured.”

Dynara swallowed. “And what about them?” she pointed at the shadowy beasts.

“The rest of us can handle them.”

Riven reached for me with his unsevered arm. “ Diizra , I can—”

I knelt down and stole a quick kiss from his lips. “I cannot get everyone out of here safely if I am worried for you. And even you, Riven, cannot fight one-handed with no training.”

“He didn’t take my sword arm,” Riven grumbled, but conceded, rolling through the portal before Dynara closed it behind them all.

A flash of light and I was a bird again. I studied the battle from the skies. Fyrel defended citizens in bear form, swiping at what was left of Damien’s ranks. Elaran fought beside her, her form wider and more muscled than normal to add extra power behind her strikes. Gerarda and Syrra fought four opponents only a few feet away. Gerarda’s small blades rang like bells while Syrra’s golden blade whistled through the air.

I watched the skies, looking for another opportunity to attack when I saw one of the soldiers below nock an arrow. He aimed it directly at Elaran’s chest. I screamed, calling for my gusts to blow the arrows away, but this form had no magic. My scream echoed as an eagle call, piercing the sky with a desperation that could be heard no matter what form I took. Gerarda turned, seeing the soldier just as I avoided a fiery blast from one of the shirak . I tucked in my wings, diving to the ground. The soldier released his arrows one after another. A flash of light and I tumbled to the ground with my arm extended, casting the strongest gust I could manage at the arrows.

But it was too late. The first had already embedded itself in Gerarda’s back. She had wrapped her body around her love’s, covering as much of the Fae as she could as the second arrow struck her through the shoulder. Gerarda groaned as a third one hit.

Then the air began to whistle. Gerarda’s short hair was sucked backward, and she looked up at the open beak of the third waateyshir with the second just behind it. I ran, heart pounding as I grabbed my dagger. Syrra rode on Fyrel, beast and warrior desperate to reach Gerarda too.

But none of us did.

The inky blast pummeled down on top of them. Gerarda gripped Elaran and screamed. Not in agony. Not in fear of her own death, but the death of her love. My heart tore, knowing the pain of such a cry.

I collapsed onto the ground in grief. Fyrel roared and reared back on her hind legs as a beam of pure white light shot upward, burrowing a hole in the pulsing red chest of the creature. It let out one final scream and its body exploded into tiny fragments of shadow.

I froze. Tendrils of light pooled from Gerarda, mixing with her shadows as her amber eyes glowed brighter than I had ever seen them. She stood, blood dripping down her nose and ear. She lifted her arms and released a battle cry. A second beam shot upward and its aim was just as true.

The shadowy beast let out one final, ragged cry as its shadows leaked from its body. Within seconds the beast was gone, ash blown away to nothing on the wind.

The few remaining soldiers all snapped straight at the same time, their united voices capturing Damien’s cadence perfectly as he spoke through each of them. “You steal my Dagger, coerce her into abandoning her post, and then you taint her with powers to threaten the Crown? That will be the last threat that traitorous bitch ever makes.”

“I doubt it,” I said proudly before the soldiers fell limp without Damien to fill them. Gerarda stood and snapped the ends from the arrows in her back and shoulder.

Elaran stood, uninjured and brushing the dirt from her knees. “You stupid, asinine …”

“Hero?” Gerarda quipped with a grin.

Thick tears fell from Elaran’s eyes as Gerarda wiped them from her cheek. “We told each other not to make foolish decisions.”

“Saving you could never be a foolish decision, Ran,” Gerarda said, pressing a kiss to Elaran’s hand.

I raised a brow. “I didn’t realize you were so … romantic.”

“Fuck off and heal me.” Gerarda dug her fingers into her own shoulder and pulled the broken end of the arrow through it. I washed it out with water and checked the wound before healing it. Only when Gerarda showed me she had full function of her shoulder and arm did I fix the one on her back.

“How did you know how to attack the beast?” I asked as I wiped the blood from her skin.

Gerarda swallowed thickly. “I didn’t. I just wanted to protect El with everything I had.” She lifted her palms; one was covered in shadow and one was encased in pure light.

I huffed a laugh. “The gift of shadow and the power to destroy it.”

“Damien and his waateyshirak are not the threat they were yesterday,” Gerarda mused with a proud smirk on her face. I nodded but my throat tightened. Gerarda was right—those were only the first of the beasts she would kill with her gift. But that also meant something else. Damien knew what power she held. She had just become his biggest target in the battle for the capital. Elaran’s eyes filled with worry as she came to the same realization. Her grip on Gerarda’s arm tightened, but she pasted a smile onto her face. Tomorrow’s sorrows were not going to steal this victory from us.