Page 44 of The Cruel Dawn (Vallendor #2)

Uncle Agon stands at the aerie’s lone window flanked by two Raqiel sentinels, all watching as I tumble down, falling through clouds, breaking through the gauzy film that separates the Abbey of Mount Devour from Vallendor…

I close my eyes and pull myself into a tight ball. But my eyelids don’t block the thrumming glare of the daystar.

My visits to the abbey and to the realm Linione weren’t supposed to be this way.

I was supposed to be bathed, fed, outfitted with new gear.

My father was supposed to hold out his arms, and I was supposed to run to him, and we were supposed to cry—from the anguish of my situation, from the joy of our reunion.

He was supposed to help me beat the One. He was supposed to love me.

Someone, finally, was supposed to love me.

But Father betrayed me, just like everyone else betrayed me.

The Council of High Orders.

My uncle.

Elyn.

Vallendor.

Supreme.

I’m alone. Again.

I’m falling, and I don’t know how to stop. Somewhere down there is the bottom, fast approaching. Fear pumps through me like water. I’m speeding up, my descent uncontrollable. There’s no one to stop me, no one to help me. I’m alone.

They told me that I was too quick to act, too quick to judge, too impatient to make the best decisions, that I needed to consider the consequences more carefully…

But Vallendor still exists.

I am not the One.

Their anger at what I’ve decided, in what I’ve accomplished, of who I am, is a weight on my chest in this freefall, pressing down on me so that my undoing comes faster.

I was told I was strong, smart, and powerful, but I’ve been condemned for being strong, smart, and powerful, and that’s why I’m falling now. Ultimately, on my end, no one, not Agon, not my father, not Supreme, truly wanted me to succeed.

I was meant to fail. It was my destiny to fail. They knew I would fail. I was lured here to complete my failure.

Is this really happening?

No one slows my descent.

No one will catch me.

I’m not meant to survive.

A whirlwind of my own spite and my own hatred consumes me, and I can barely breathe.

I see nothing now but shades of red and black.

The vision of my body smeared across Vallendor burns in my vision, and I shout, “No!” I twist upright, my feet and legs ready for this collision.

I will not die. I will not break like a brittle plate or crumble like stale bread against the realm’s pantry floor.

I no longer fear hitting the bottom. No, I welcome the impact. I dare this earth to claim me. The rocks and trees of Vallendor should fear their own doom if they fail to protect me.

A smile crackles across my face as I squint at the ground racing up to meet me and—

BOOM!

The world explodes around me. Boulders break apart, and solid ground is hollowed in one big crater.

Full-grown trees come crashing down, no longer high and mighty.

New rocks and logs, dirt and splinters rain down from the sky, but none of it vexes me, not one piece of gravel, not one clump of turf, not one mote of dust.

Nature knows I am the Lady of the Verdant Realm.

Welcome to my world—

…

I’m pulled from sleep, from that dream of…

There’s no turning back.

What’s that?

A dull roar vibrates through my bedroom. I sit up in bed and look to the narrow window bright with moonlight, to the chaise lounge lined with crimson-and-gold pillows, to my clothes and armor folded atop the chest at the foot of the bed. My back still aches.

Someone pounds on my bedroom door, which bursts open.

Elyn, in her tunic and breeches, stands there with mussed hair, backlit by torchlight. “Are you okay?” she asks.

Behind her, Raqiel guards shuffle along the corridor.

“Yeah,” I say, throwing off the quilt. “Did something happen with you and Calyx?”

“Huh?” She frowns, caught off-guard by my question. “It’s not that.”

The worry on her face makes me hop out of bed.

“People are falling ill,” she says, grabbing a breastplate from her guard’s hands and buckling it on. “Something’s invaded the abbey. Hurry up and get dressed.”

Invaded the abbey?

That’s impossible.

I pull on my clothes and turn so that Elyn can buckle my pewter breastplate. A small piece of the plate around my waist cracks and crumbles between her fingers.

I gape at the fracture and the disintegrating metal. “Why is my armor…?”

She dusts off her hands and says, “No time, Kai! We need to go.”

I hear fear—in her voice, in the footsteps of those running down the hallway. And I hear something new: moaning and crying. I grab my scabbard, and the leather holder feels loose.

Elyn and I make our way through the abbey’s hallways. Columns of Raqiel guards hurry in every direction. Senators still wearing their nightclothes poke their heads from their own chambers or collapse in the doorway, their eyes gunky or filled with blood.

“Who’s invading?” I ask. “Who are we fighting?”

“This invader wields no blade,” Elyn says.

I can’t believe her, with the shrieks in the air… Only otherworldly can bring about this sort of terror. I still draw my sword, convinced that a ram-headed sunabi or a bear-man aburan might roam the halls of the abbey, striking down the gods of the Aetherium.

But there is no blood on the guards’ spears and swords. Nor are there gory remains left by a gerammoc or a burnu.

There’s blood, though, shining bright on the tile floors, and it’s the super-red-blue blood of the gods.

We pass a man slumped against a door, his back arched in a final, agonizing spasm. We pass another woman twisted on the floor, her tongue clenched tightly between her teeth, her bulging eyes wide open.

The Abbey is becoming a tomb.

“What’s happening?” I ask Elyn.

Before she can respond, a woman staggers from door to door, coughing and gurgling.

She wears a mauve gown that gathers and separates like trousers.

She coughs once more before collapsing at my feet.

Her copper skin looks pale, her face tight like she’s struggling to breathe.

It’s Nimith, the steward who led me to the aerie just days ago.

She gapes at Elyn and me, her eyes filled with fear.

I reach for her.

Elyn shouts, “Don’t!”

Nimith closes her eyes and becomes one more body we step over.

We reach the holding cells down in the bowels of the abbey.

“I’ve protected myself but…” Elyn grabs me right before we approach the first jail cell. She whispers, “In my name, be shielded now. No plague or poison shall claim you.” She touches my cheek.

A sheet of ice prickles across my face, down my neck, and spreads across my chest, arms, and legs. My moth’s thorax glows and pulses like the light from Elyn’s dove.

“We don’t know,” she says, her eyes bright with tears.

Fear.

My breath catches, and I whisper, “Thank you.”

We creep past the jail cells, the light cast by the stewards like Nimith dancing across the cold, jagged walls. That glow twists and then disappears and is replaced by sickly blue light that doesn’t come from Elyn.

I exhale—no cold clouds gather around my face. No, there’s something else in the air, and even with Elyn’s protective ward, it pushes at me like insistent smoke.

She and I exchange worried looks before she shouts, “Jadon Wake Rrivae.”

Silence and then… “Yes?”

We exhale with relief—but it’s short-lived.

He sounds… bigger , thicker, muddier.

Elyn and I forge ahead, stepping cautiously, hearts in our throats, as we near that strange watery light like a pond reflecting shadows in a cave.

Jadon sits behind locked bars, resting on the edge of his bed. He’s the center of that underwater light, and his tunic and breeches look tight against his frame.

Is he growing ?

“How do you feel?” I ask him.

He looks at us with dull eyes and lifts his right hand.

The tattoo there—those circles and the elements within them—has returned. Worse, that tattoo has spread to his wrist. That watery glow…it comes from his inked right hand.

Elyn steps back. “Oh, no.”

My throat closes. “It didn’t work.”

Jadon shakes his head, and his dulled eyes glow brighter.

“We should return to Agon,” she says.

“Don’t leave,” I tell Jadon. “We’ll be back. I promise.”

Elyn and I race past the dead and dying: Vepaz Sirhhen, senator from realm Oron, Sielel Bezal, senator from realm Reilaph. Idwant from…

The door to the aerie is open, and younger monks congregate around Agon. Barefoot, they wear simple green robes and cropped hair. They speak in hushed tones as their eyes dart between Agon and each other.

My uncle spots Elyn and me, and he shakes his head. “Even in death, Celedan Docci is more powerful than we imagined.” The remains of the Keeper of Knowledge—silver dust again even though his body had completely dissolved—glow on the worktable, now surrounded by ten Raqiel guards.

“How is that possible?” Elyn asks. “We destroyed him.”

Agon shakes his head.

“Jadon’s marking,” I say, lifting my hand. “Not only has it returned, it’s spreading. And there are dead everywhere and…”

Agon’s gray eyes brighten. His owl amulet pulses in time with my moth and Elyn’s dove. Soon, a shimmer wraps around him and everyone in this aerie.

Fear.

“Until we understand what’s happening here,” my uncle says, “the Weapon needs to leave the abbey immediately. We have only six dawns left, and Danar’s amulet must still be destroyed.”

“Where are we supposed to take him?” Elyn asks.

“We’ll figure that out,” I say, already retreating out of the aerie.

“But the Librum may know,” Elyn protests.

“There’s no time left for study,” I shout.

I still don’t know how to kill the resurrectors. I still don’t know how Danar Rrivae is creating these otherworldly, old and new. I don’t know if destroying the traitor’s amulet will have any effect or if any of us are meant to survive this.

“Go!” Agon shouts. “The Weapon must leave the abbey before everybody’s killed. And if you don’t remove him, we’ll have to evacuate this realm. You understand what that means.”

Losing protection from the orders means we lose this war. Losing this war means Danar Rrivae wins. Danar Rrivae winning means Vallendor as we know it is no more.

Back down in the dungeon, Elyn casts a ward around Jadon to contain the danger he presents.

As we speed through the corridors, those closest to us fall to their knees, many taking their final breaths.

We break into a run to escape this sacred space.

We climb the seemingly interminable stairs and hurry across the sitting rooms now teeming with bodies in various states of living and dead.

We rush through the chapels and anterooms and finally down that long hallway with the catherite floors.

We burst out into the open air, and soon, Jadon, Elyn, and I find ourselves standing in that dell of blue flowers.

No red cardinals join us—the Raqiel must stay and protect the Abbey.

Jadon sinks to his knees, the marking well past the bones of his wrist now. The blue flowers beneath him tremble before they wilt, and their vibrant color instantly drains to gray. The grass also recoils, browning and withering despite the shimmering protective shield encircling him.

I watch helplessly, knowing this is terribly wrong, scared that I can’t stop the inevitable—but that I must.

Breathless, Elyn rests with her hands against her thighs. Her hair sticks to her sweaty neck and face.

The color of Jadon’s eyes wavers from blue to lavender to translucent to blue to lavender to no color at all. “What do we do now?” he asks.

The slow roll of Miasma pushes past the shields Elyn and Agon set, making me woozy. To wait for the spell to pass, I rest my hands—

Shit.

Bruises shaped like dead flower petals speckle my hands. My knees ache and creak as I rest upon them.

I force myself to look away from my hands—right now, I’m more worried about vomiting than about those spreading bruises. But then I stare at the dell’s dead blue flowers…

Vallendor is dying right beneath my feet.

Jadon says, “What do we-—?”

“I don’t know,” Elyn shouts, her mouth twisted.

“What do you think we should do? Or are you content with just sitting there, letting shit happen, waiting for Kai and me to do all the work? You get to go around destroying the realm while we come behind you, cleaning it up only for you to do it again.”

“You think this is easy for me?” he shouts back. “Do you think I chose this path—?”

“Poor you,” Elyn spits. “Will someone please think of poor Jadon Wake—”

I squeeze shut my eyes as the two bicker about what was supposed to work, why it didn’t work, why this isn’t his fault, why this is his fault. “Quiet,” I finally shout. “Listen to me.”

Both shut their mouths as the ground keeps trembling and those blue flowers keep springing to life only to die again.

My dream…

I’d been falling, headed toward my death until I righted myself.

“I don’t have an answer but…” I place my bruised hands on my hips and limp over to the bluffs that overlook the valley and the Sea of Devour. “But I know someone who may.”