Page 294 of Scorched Earth

Rufina cocked her head, thinking. “Your death isn’t a victory, whereas tearing you away from the Six very much is. You make them stronger, and I want them weak. I want them to fade into nothingness and be forgotten. Most especially Hegeria. I want her last thoughts to be regret for what she did to me.”

Such a hollow victory. Part of Lydia pitied this woman who’d allowed bitterness and envy to consume her, to drive her to commit horror for such petty satisfaction as vengeance, because at the end of it, Lydia suspected Rufina’s heart would be empty. No happiness. No joy. All of this fornothing.

“What’s in it for me?” Lydia asked, adjusting her spectacles even as she pressed closer, pulling in more life still. Slowly, so Rufina wouldn’tnotice. “Why would I want immortality at the side of the woman who murdered my parents? Who killed the love of my life? Paint me a picture of a future that makes me willing to let all of this go.”

“You’ll be strong,” Rufina answered. “No one will ever be able to hurt you again. No more grief. No more sorrow. No more pain.”

“What if I don’t want that?”

They were face-to-face now, Lydia just enough taller that Rufina had to look up at her, rings of fire illuminating the dark pits of eyes that flared with confusion. As if this creature who’d sacrificed all of her humanity could not begin to understand how Lydia would reject such a prize.

“Without sorrow, what is happiness?” Lydia asked, so flush with excess life that her heart fluttered. “Because I think it is much like light holding little meaning without darkness.”

“Death it is, then?”

Lydia smiled. “Death indeed.”

With a strength fueled by countless lives, Lydia struck, her fist lashing out with blinding speed and smashing through Rufina’s rib cage. Her fingers closed around the woman’s heart. The Queen of Derin screamed, a horrifying howl of pain and fear that cut off abruptly as Lydia squeezed and whispered, “I wouldn’t move if I were you.”

“Do it, then,” Rufina retorted. “Send me to my dark master’s embrace, I care not. Mudamora is a ruin of death, and the living will turn from the Six who abandoned them to such a fate. From my master’s side, I will watch the Six diminish and laugh as you realize this moment was no victory, only one last gasp before defeat.”

“The fight isn’t yet over,” Lydia said, then tightened her grip.

Just as she had with Finn, Lydia pulled the death into herself, then pushed it out into the world, the sense of touching thousands, tens of thousands, stealing sight from her eyes and leaving only blackness. And because the world demanded balance, the life that had been stolen from all those souls pushed its way into her to fill the void, flowing through the endless thousands of channels that Rufina had created and filling those souls anew. Brightness filled the darkness.

Rufina screamed as she realized what was happening, clawing at Lydia’s arms. At her face. So desperate to hold on to all that she’d achieved that she didn’t care that Lydia held her heart in her hand.

Lydia felt the balance right itself almost like a click in her head, and with a gasp, she let go of Rufina’s heart, the last rush of life healing the wound in the woman’s chest as her fingers pulled out into the cold.

“What have you done?” Rufina whispered, staring at Lydia with pale grey eyes, her face older. No longer Rufina, no longer the Queen of Derin, no longer corrupted.

All that remained was Cyntha.

All around, was a chaos of screams and tears. Some of the blighters were once again themselves—though not all, for some lay still in the snow, their souls having chosen to go onward rather than to return. And the one face she wanted to see most was painfully absent. Beyond her power to save.

The grief of that nearly brought Lydia to her knees.

“What have you done?” Cyntha screamed again. “All the Six have ever done is take from you, but you fight for them still. They rise on the back of your victory. They stand on your shoulders even when their weight is too great to bear. Don’t you see that?”

“You cannot take what is freely given,” Lydia answered. “Much like your freedom. Go where you will, Cyntha. The Corrupter no longer has his claws in you, so your future is what you make of it.”

Turning away, Lydia took several steps, staring out over the barren landscape that seemed a mirror of her heart. Because victory felt so cold without him at her side.

Then her skin prickled, instinct warning her.

Whirling, she saw Cyntha lunge toward her, sword in hand—

Only for her head to topple from her neck, removed by a familiar sword.

Killian staggered as though the blow had taken the last of his strength, tripping over Cyntha’s fallen corpse to collapse into Lydia’s arms. Behind him were Lena and Gwen, both women splattered with gore but very much alive.

“You’re alive,” Lydia sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder even as she vanquished wounds that would have been the death of anyone other than him. “Oh gods, you’re alive.”

Killian wrapped his arms around her, holding her tight. “I’m sorry I wasn’t with you.”

“You are always with me,” Lydia whispered, then kissed him fiercely. “No matter where we are, you are in my heart.”

“You did it.” His eyes searched hers. “You saved them.”