Page 56

Chapter

Fifty-One

K YSON

Power rolls off Azalea in seismic waves, forcing our guard to their knees.

Standing defiant against Crux, her eyes blaze with fury, glowing that remarkable Azure blue, neon almost as I see her fingers twitch, catch a glimmer of the cerulean blue, the energy of the Eclipsarian bleed through her very essence, staining her.

I can feel it running through the bond, healing me, healing her guard.

She shivers, the shudder physical, as power zaps up her spine, and she straightens with a wicked laugh.

“But I am not a Landeena or Azure.” Azalea steps out of the protective circle of our guard, and my heart sputters as she exposes herself further. “I AM VALKYRIE!” she roars, and the pure anger behind those words cracks the earth.

“And you shall not take my Kingdom!” Her roar slices through the tense air, an eruption of volcanic anger that scorches the very atmosphere.

I can almost taste the fear emanating from the hunters; it’s a thick, acrid stench as their weapons discharge in desperation.

Bullets streak through the sky, only to halt and clatter harmlessly against an invisible shield she conjures with a mere lift of her hands.

Beneath us, the ground heaves and splits, a great chasm severing the battlefield, as if the earth itself sides with her wrath.

Vines, thick and unyielding, burst forth, ensnaring the hunters and dragging them screaming into the abyss of the craters she has created.

Her rage ignites the sky, fire sweeping across the sky, scorching the earth to a charred wasteland—yet, under her protective aura, we remain unscathed.

Crux’s complexion pales, a stark contrast to the fury he now faces before him.

His attempt at conquest has failed catastrophically; he has not subdued her—he has unleashed her.

Tonight, though a kingdom may fall to ashes, from its remnants rises the Empress of Lycania, forged from the fierce flames of her wrath.

Darkness descends as she summons the storm clouds, her power manifesting as a storm of raw, primal force.

Lightning forks down, carving scars into the earth, while thunder drowns out the cries of those they unleash on.

Our castle, once a fortress of stone and legacy, shatters under the onslaught, its ruins deflected by her indomitable shield.

The bond between us thrums with her energy, healing and invigorating me.

Her arms, raised high, command the winds which howl and whip around us.

Her pain, the echo of every loss, every haunting memory she has endured, and every wraith that has ever touched her, fuels a war cry that resounds across the battleground.

The power spoken of in the ancient texts—the divine might of the Landeenas and Azures—unfurls before me.

The air itself wails with the torment of her unleashed soul, obliterating all in its devastating path.

Trees, stones, and bones are ground to dust, the landscape flattened as if by the wrath of the moon goddess herself.

As quickly as it unleashed, her cataclysm subsides. The silence in its wake is so profound, it’s as if the world pauses, catching its breath. Her protective shield dissolves, shattering like glass, and the weight of her actions, and her losses, crashing down on her.

I rush to her side, catching her as her strength wanes. Our kingdom lies in ruins around us, the forest a mere memory, our enemies nothing but blood and ash fertilizing the soil. Her power, a display of divine wrath and mourning, leaves us standing in her ruin.

I clutch her to me, wishing I could take her pain away. Her heartbreak is palpable, a fissure that threatens to consume her. As one dynasty crumbles, but another awakens.

“I AM VALKYRIE!” she had declared.

And so she is.

Empress of Lycania.

The Valkyrie Empress.

A ZALEA

Gannon wails as Liam attempts to revive Abbie, bringing me to my knees. My head drops into my hands, covering my face as I sob, collapsing beside them just as Kyson’s arms catch me. How can the Moon Goddess be so cruel?

She grants me the power of the first Lycans, yet she robs me of my sister, leaving no way to mend it. Abbie deserves the kindness, loyalty, and love Gannon offers. After all she has endured and survived, it feels like the cruelest slap in the face—a betrayal to lose someone so pure.

Dustin tries to pull Liam away from her, but Liam shoves him back.

“Come on, Abbie,” Liam growls furiously. Dustin and Trey grab him, pulling him off, just as Gannon snatches her and holds her tighter.

“She’s gone. She’s gone. There’s nothing you can do,” Dustin tells Liam, but Liam shakes his head, reaching for her again.

“No! I’ve been feeding her my blood,” Liam snarls, tossing Dustin aside, and my head lifts at his words. No sooner does the words leave his lips than we hear her gasp.

I blink, unable to believe my eyes, while Gannon rocks back and forth, wailing loudly at his lost love.

Her eyes open, dazedly obsidian, as her hand rises and clutches Gannon’s arm, making him jump as she sucks in a breath and her eyes return to their emerald color, life returning to her deathly pale skin.

“Abbie?” I whisper, choking on my sob, as her hand moves to Gannon’s hair.

“Abbie!” I scream, and Gannon jumps at the feel of her hand in his hair as he lifts his head. Liam sags against Dustin, collapsing between his legs as he breathes heavily.

“I told you, brother, I wouldn’t let you lose her again,” Liam breathes heavily, catching his breath.

My chest warms as sparks of the bond flood me along with relief, and I lean against my King as Clarice releases Tyson, who crashes against his mother and father, crying and clutching them. Gannon crushes them against him as he holds on.

We have survived, yet our home has not, as I look around at what I have done. The destruction I have caused, and the carnage left behind. But we are alive, we are not dead, and that is what matters. The rest we can figure out.

“More than my life,” I breathe out in relief.

“More than my life,” everyone echoes in a chorus, repeating my words.

“More than my life,” Kyson whispers next to my ear.

Kyson’s hand finds mine; his touch is grounding, a reminder that this isn’t some nightmare that I truly destroyed this place.

“We need to go home,” I murmur, the words slicing through the quiet like a knife. “To Landeena.” Home—where all this began and where we must return to rebuild our lives.

Kyson nods, his gaze sweeping over the remnants of the castle.

“First, we salvage what we can here. There’s much to be done,” he sighs heavily, looking around at our guards, who are already moving about the destruction, ensuring the hunters are dead and those that miraculously survived are taken care of.

The task is monumental. We mobilize swiftly, our people rallying despite their grief and shock at everything that has happened; they grieve the people we lost and their homes that are no more.

The guards, once poised to protect, start digging through debris, salvaging pieces of our past. Every stone turned, and every item saved, feels like a small victory against the desolation of this place.

Clarice organizes a team to sift through the ruins for belongings and relics of the royal archives.

These pieces of our history are more than mere objects; they are glimmers of a past that will inspire our future.

The children help, too, their small hands picking up less dangerous pieces, their innocence a stark contrast to the surrounding destruction we now stand in.

As we work, I can’t help but feel the weight of every life affected by this catastrophe. The responsibility of my power becomes a tangible thing, heavy and overwhelming. Yet, as I watch our people come together, there is a budding sense of unity and strength. We are broken, yes, but not defeated.

In the midst of our efforts, a young guard approaches, a dusty book in his hands. “Your Majesty,” he bows slightly, offering the book to me. It’s an old ledger from the castle’s library, miraculously unscathed. I flip through the pages, barely recognizing the words that I still struggle to read.

“Anything else?” I ask, a small smile tugging at my lips despite the sorrow eating at me. The guard nods, just as I hear Kyson gasp as he pulls out more and more books, the books Cedric gave me and the ones Kyson would read to me. “How in the world did these survive?” Kyson marvels.

By evening, the ground where the castle once stood is cleared of bodies and the most hazardous debris. We set up camp in the cleared area, the night sky open above us. The stars are particularly bright, their light burning brilliantly to the darkness of the past day.

Kyson and I stand together, watching our people settle. “We’ll rebuild, love. Everything.”

“I know, but I took their homes from them,” I murmur.

“No, you gave them a reason to hope and not to live fearing the hunters. Tomorrow, we will start the journey back to Landeena. We’ll rebuild there, where it all began. It’s time to bring your people home.”

“Our people,” I tell him as Trey wanders up the hill toward me, a plate of food in his hands.

Later that night, as I lie beside Kyson under the vast expanse of the night sky, I feel a mix of dread and excitement.

Landeena awaits with its own set of challenges and ghosts.

But for now, the quiet whispers of the night promise not just an end but a beginning.

A new chapter. As I drift to sleep, the echoes of our past mingle with the dreams of what the future will be.