Page 55 of The Cruel Dawn (Vallendor #2)

Elyn pales, but white flames flare in her eyes. “They truly believe that they rule the Aetherium. Fortunately, there are more of us than them.”

I swipe at my wet face with my trembling hands. “I’ve totally fucked up Vallendor.”

…

Sentinels still guard the Glass of Infinite Realms.

As Elyn and I made our way up to the aerie, we’d passed those other sentinels as well as the stewards and senators who’d survived Jadon’s infection.

They continue cleaning, disinfecting, and placing wards around the abbey’s corridors and meeting spaces, its living quarters and jails.

They are not surrendering. They are fighting to remain.

Vallendor hasn’t been completely abandoned yet. I haven’t been left here alone yet.

Agon the Kindness isn’t working in the aerie, though. The space feels too still without his rustling robes and the sound of pages turning in those big books.

No powders and plants, books or bowls crowd the worktables.

No forgotten sprigs or scraps of paper have been left on the floor.

No lingering smells of crushed herbs; the fire that had consumed Celedan Docci no longer burns.

The Librum Esoterica is gone: I see no sparkle of its presence.

In fact, a third of the books that had been collected no longer sit on these shelves.

My heart kicks in my chest at the sight of this absence of study and craft.

The Abbey itself is being stripped away, book by book.

“I need a stronger sword,” I say now, my eyes lingering on the empty bookshelves.

“I’ll search for Agon,” Elyn says, “and you go down to see Usese. He’s still the abbey’s blacksmith and armorer, and he’ll do what he can to help us prepare. We’ll meet back here.”

I hear only one hammer striking an anvil when, in the past, I’ve heard thirty.

The air in the forge is stagnant. No cloying, acrid smoke stings my eyes.

The room feels too fresh to be a home of iron and steel.

And though the furnace glows orange and blue, nothing is melting in those flames.

This place is almost as still and cold as the aerie.

This silence is my doing, and the inactivity here will only spread.

Usese Ebrithin is the size of most Yeaden—muscled and wide, and tall but not as tall as the Mera.

He’s more of a bull than a horse. He keeps his black hair short so that it won’t catch fire or get caught in his tools.

His smock is as long as a dinner table; tailors must have used half a field of cotton to make his black tunic.

When he sees me, the creases in the armorer’s face deepen.

His wide smile shows off teeth studded with jewels and metal.

“The Lady of the Verdant Realm!” Usese shouts. “The Grand Defender of Vallendor! It took your realm teetering on the brink of destruction for you to finally pay me a visit!”

I hug him; he’s as solid as his anvil. “I’d wanted to come sooner but…”

“The living are toppling here like weak brick walls.” He turns back to the single new war hammer taking shape on his anvil.

“I have a question for you,” I say. “Do linionium-made weapons exist here on Vallendor?”

He snorts. “Certainly not. You think you got trouble now? Imagine what would happen if a linionium-made greatsword fell into the wrong hands.” He glances at me. “Why do you ask, Lady?”

“I need a new blade.” I pull Fury from my sagging scabbard and present it to him. “She’s powerless against the new otherworldly that I’m now fighting.”

Usese takes the sword, peers at the black blade etched with moths, and runs his finger along its edge. “Who forged this?”

I swallow, then say, “Jadon Rrivae Wake, and it was a gift. I accepted her, of course, unaware at the time that he was the son of both Syrus Wake and Danar Rrivae. Up until recently, Fury has proven to be a mighty blade. Now, though, she bounces off enemies that she used to slay without effort.”

“That’s because this sword was made by the usurper and traitor.

” Usese clicks his decorated teeth and shakes his massive head.

“Agon shared that he’s studying the Librum .

Some of that knowledge has revealed that the traitor created new beasts that are invincible against mortal weapons.

We’re also just learning that blades like Fury can no longer harm a being that has been created by the one who created her, nor can she harm a member of the creator’s family.

Danar Rrivae has obviously imparted his son with knowledge gained from his travel across the Aetherium. ”

I shake my head. “But I’ve killed otherworldly before with her.”

“Not this new generation of otherworldly,” the Yeaden says, “which is why you’re here now, asking about linionium-made blades. Have other blades cut down the enemy?”

Justice? Yes.

Zephar’s dual blades? Yes.

The blades of other Mera warriors? Yes.

Even my dagger, Tempest, worked. Each of these blades had been made by immortal armorers throughout the Aetherium. Fury, the only sword that cuts as well as a butter knife, was made by a demigod and child of the traitor.

Shit.

“None were linionium,” I point out.

“Catherite is still stronger than the steel used for…” He lifts Fury, then holds my gaze. “I’m sorry if this is unwelcome news, but she must be destroyed.”

My nostrils flare and sweat pricks my underarms. “If you must.” I close my eyes. I don’t want to witness the end of this loyal blade.

“Lady Megidrail,” Usese whispers.

I breathe through my clenched teeth before opening my eyes to look at him.

He holds a red cushion, and sitting upon it is a sword. “A gift from your father,” the Yeaden says.

The hilt is wrapped in black leather. The cross-guard is embellished with a pair of small moths on each side, framing the blade. Another moth has been engraved on the dark metal cap of the pommel as though she’s watching over the sword. And the blade…

“Linionium,” Usese says.

The black blade tapers to a razor-sharp point. Ghostly moths spread along the length of the blade, shimmering in the forge’s dim light, lifting her even though she is still.

So light. So beautiful. So deadly.

“It’s as powerful as the Council will allow you to have.

” The Yeaden chuckles and adds, “Which means that it is still the most powerful blade throughout Vallendor. She is bound to you—and to you alone. Any person, mortal or immortal, who dares to touch her will die where they stand. Do you understand?”

My body shakes as I nod.

“And her name?” he asks.

I think about the power of this blade and the dread she’ll inspire.

I think about the moths: transformation, death, rebirth, intuition.

I think about my place as Grand Defender and Lady of the Verdant Realm… Divine, Celestial, Maelstrom, Kielat, Aniel, Elenven, Lady of Courage, Goddess of Victory…

My mixed blood of warriors and healers, explorers and builders and scholars…the Blood of All.

All of it must end because one coming dawn brings more danger than all others.

“I’ll name her…Cruel Dawn.” I kiss the blade.

Usese bows his head. “And so she shall be known and recorded as Cruel Dawn.”

And now I must return to work.

My first kill? Zephar.

And then Danar Rrivae.

And last, the man I love.

Jadon Rrivae Wake.