Page 31

WHATEVER IT TAKES

SERYN

W hen we finally left our cabin, the sun had shifted into the early evening.

As Gavrel walked behind me, he smoothed his hand over my backside.

He was extra attentive when I wore leather breeches.

Before we left, his eyes had lingered on me as I slowly strapped my dagger onto my hip and thigh.

I smirked at him, adjusting my belt satchel as we headed to The Boggy Grog to share a meal with Rhaegar and Breena.

As we ate, he couldn’t stop staring at me. Despite trying to wrangle his composure, a smile continually threatened the corners of his lips. I bit into my bread, letting its crusty ridges poke the roof of my mouth.

“Worked up quite the appetite, eh?” Breena snickered.

Gavrel narrowed his eyes, but she just stared at him, chewing and then jabbing her spoon at him.

Head swaying side to side, I snorted before taking a bite of my mushroom and mire rabbit stew. “Like you didn’t. I saw you and Marek at the Revelry last night. ”

Instantly, Breena’s amusement transformed into annoyance. “I don’t have a clue what you’re on about.”

“What we should be on about is the fact that we’ve met a bloody Ancient. Not to mention where Seryn needs to direct the portal,” Rhaegar muttered.

I lifted my spoon, pupils rising to the right, forehead crinkling. “I’ve been thinking about that?—”

“When would you have the time?” Breena’s eyebrows wiggled.

Ignoring her, I went on. “And I think Phantasos was hinting at the Stygian Murk. Last Dormancy, when I first arrived, there was this valley in the distance. Something was off. And in the nightmares I’ve had of Kaden …

I can feel it in my gut. Not only his, but the misery of the Murk.

” With a shrug, my spoon lowered. “That’s all I can think of. ”

Breena wielded her utensil against me now. “I think that’ll have to be good enough, Firefly. Eh, how ’bout we talk about how much of a bleeding headache that tonic gave me this morning.”

My eyebrows shot up. “You used the orchid?”

The skin on either side of her eyes crinkled. “You really did a number on me in the Winnowing. Proud of you, you ember-eating wench.”

Squealing, I threw my arms around my friend, overjoyed that the memories of the Breena I first met had joined the new.

“Oy, woman! My stew—” Her words were cut short as a stout man crashed through the entrance. My stomach shot into my throat at the panic radiating off him.

“Arm yourselves! We’re under attack!” he bellowed. Everyone in the pub froze for only a moment before shooting out of their chairs, brandishing weapons, and rushing outdoors.

With weapons in hand, we followed the rest. A booming blast of oily neon exploded against the tree to my left, and I stooped as Gavrel grabbed me and hauled me away from the flying shards of wood.

The doombark groaned as the oleaginous ember slithered over its trunk and then over the roof of the pub. With a resounding crack, the building caved inward, the broken tree plunging backward into a nearby conservatory. The thick dome remained unharmed .

Of course it did.

No matter what doom befell Midst Fall, those damned things survived.

My eyes followed the path of the tainted ember. Atop a roof was a female Akridai, a fresh assault forming between her palms.

“Get to Yaya’s,” I ordered as a Helos citizen pushed the oblivious enforcer off the building she perched on.

Hurriedly, we weaved along the bridges and plankways.

Below our grandmother’s home, Marek, bare-chested as usual, was spinning and jabbing his quarterstaff between two Draumrs. His raven tattoo moved with his shoulder blades as he shifted gracefully and struck his weapon efficiently between both attackers.

When the guards noticed Gavrel approaching, they faltered, Marek’s staff knocking one off the bridge. Dodging my cousin’s next attack, the other warrior crouched and retreated. The woman’s face pinched, confusion lacing her tone. “Commander?”

“The Elders are a farce. Do with that what you will,” Gavrel replied as Marek stepped toward her like a predator. The warrior’s face crumpled before she sprinted away.

Yaya barged down the stairwell, a bow gripped in her hold and a quiver of arrows strapped to her back. “Get a move on! Protect as many innocents as you can, but get my granddaughter to Hallowed End. Whatever it takes.”

She didn’t have to tell us twice. As a unit, we navigated the pathways.

There were droves of Draumrs pouring in from all sides. My heart galloped, trying to push me onward as ember thrummed along my body. The knowledge that my blade would be sullied today had my fist tightening around the hilt.

“It would seem we have an Elder sympathizer among us,” Marek snapped. “On the south bank, several boundary runes were destroyed. The illusion fell shortly after.”

My grandmother’s nostrils flared irritably at the information, but then her head snapped up. “Let’s move!” she barked, nocking an arrow and letting it fly over my head .

A pained cry sounded, then breaking boughs as a body hurtled through the air, and then a final splat into the water.

Gavrel’s mouth pressed into a firm line as he nodded approvingly at Yaya. Then we ran, rune tattoos and embers flaring among us. White light zoomed over Gavrel’s and Rhaegar’s weapons.

A few straggling Draumrs met us as we made haste.

A pained expression flicked over Gavrel’s face with every warrior he thrashed his weapon or fists at.

It must have wounded him to harm his fellow warriors, but it couldn’t be helped.

The majority who joined the Order of Draumr were doggedly devoted to the Elders and their laws, conditioned to harm first and ask questions later.

But Gavrel had chosen his cause, and he would stand against anyone who got in our way.

He blocked a sword swinging at me from a shaky bridge running parallel to the one we were on.

The guard gritted his teeth at the impact and then stumbled as the planks under him swayed.

Using the full weight of my body, I rammed my shoulder into his, and the man cursed, tripping over the side and falling into the water.

As we stepped into the main square, at least forty warriors blocked our path. They spilled onto the platform from various pathways. My knuckles turned pale around the hilt of my dagger, its kaleidoscopic mist swirling in the pommel.

On my left, Yaya and Marek hurried to a winding staircase. As the older woman darted up them, Marek struck a man in the neck with his quarterstaff as the guard lunged for her.

“Let’s dance!” Breena roared, charging toward our opposition, her crimson aura blazing around her.

Rhaegar laughed and followed his friend, swinging his battle axe into the approaching opponents. “I’ll clear the way!” he bellowed, yanking his curved blade from a man’s flank.

A ball of Breena’s blistering ember zipped over his shoulder and through a woman’s arm. The warrior’s sword slammed into the platform as she screamed, grabbing at the empty space her limb used to be.

Gavrel spun at the sound of stomping boots, his sword slashing and clanking against another. A second guard jabbed his blade at him, and he lurched backward just in time, knocking his weapon off course.

Frozen by the combat, I watched his skirmish unfurl. The sense of impending doom skittered over my scalp. Like it had during the final Winnowing Trial.

From every corner I beheld, limbs and blades thrashed, flaming arrows whizzed overhead, and gleaming energy flashed.

A streak of russet caught my eye, and I glanced at my cousin as he spun gracefully, his staff sweeping around him in a wide arc.

A brutal grin spread over his teeth; I didn’t think I’d ever seen him as delighted.

Another of Breena’s heated orbs slammed into the warrior Marek had smashed, and he scowled at her as the guard fell to his knees.

She tossed him a jaunty smirk before twirling and slicing her curved blade through another opponent’s neck.

Rhaegar and Gavrel’s tattoos were brilliant shooting stars, tracing intricate patterns as they expertly swung and thrust their blazing weapons in combat.

Gavrel had once shared how these mystical symbols heightened their strength and agility, but witnessing their prowess in battle was another thing altogether. They moved with the swift precision and force of at least two or three warriors, effortlessly dodging and striking with otherworldly grace.

My halo sputtered around me, the patterns along my arms blinking. But I couldn’t feel it. Numbness saturated my very soul.

Fuck.

I was useless .

It was happening again.

Each clash of metal clanged against my skull.

Gavrel blocked and lunged, alternating between the two guards he was fighting.

The first guard jabbed, and the commander swiped sideways, knocking the sword from the man’s hand.

Gavrel rammed his boot into his stomach, and as the Draumr fell backward, Gavrel spun to the second guard just in time for his sword to clash against the other’s blade .

My ember sent a surge of heat through my spine, and I staggered on the planks, electricity zapping through my fingers and toes. Suddenly, I remembered how to move my limbs.

From my side, a guard rushed toward me. As I pivoted on the balls of my feet, I flung my arm out, my blade sinking into her neck.

With a look of stunned terror, she fell to her knees, and before her hands could clutch her split throat, I called my dagger back to me. Revulsion and pride burrowed into my chest as I spun to Gavrel in time to see him and the other warrior retreat from one another.

Before either could deal another blow, Gavrel dropped to one knee and drove his blade into the space beneath the other man’s ribs. Wide-eyed, the guard responded with a gurgling death rattle before crimson spilled from his mouth. Gavrel tugged his sword from the Draumr’s body.

Satisfaction scurried through me. I wasn’t sure if it was me or my ember, and I no longer cared. We were the same, weren’t we?

I called upon it, weaving a twisting orb between my fingers. At the buzzing caress, a smirk plucked at the corners of my mouth. The glow reflected in Gavrel’s eyes as he looked at me with pride.

There was movement behind Gavrel, and in the next moment, I lobbed the weaponized radiance over his shoulder.

It was the guard he had kicked. The man’s broadsword clattered to the wood at Gavrel’s heels as my energy smeared over him, flashed outward, and contracted as if his body were absorbing the light.

With terrified eyes and mouth agape, his limbs flung out, and his back arched. With a final flash of brilliance, his form combusted. Ash and glittering mist were all that remained.

I cried out, horror and fascination lining my features. It was odd that killing someone with my ember was more distressing than doing so with a blade. I shoved the thought away as three guards froze in their tracks and whipped nervous looks toward me before scurrying in the other direction.

Good . I was a bloody monster.

As Gavrel gathered me in his arms, I choked on my words. “He … he was going to … going to kill you. ”

“I know, Little Star. Breathe. It had to be done.” He kissed the top of my head as I set my jaw, nodding, finding the truth in his explanation.

We turned, arms around each other’s waists. The battle roared, and fire licked at the wooden bones of the city. A deep rage boiled within my belly at the sight.

The city burned like a field of scorching wheat, the smell of charred wood and flesh sinking into my lungs.

My eyes darted between the blazing infernos and my kin as they fought against the Elders’ legion of warriors and enforcers.

Yellowish putrescence pulsed behind each Akridai’s neck hieroglyph, making it look as if a plague of inky locusts was swarming Helos.

People—the Ravens—were who mattered.

People could rebuild cities from the ashes and lift one another after the fall. And they’d rather raze Helos to the muck than let the Elders take their home.

My home.

Among the chaos, a stillness tunneled into my bones because I knew something in my very marrow that our enemies didn’t.

No matter what firestorm raged around us, our roots were safely buried beneath the mire, biding their time before blooming once again.