Page 63 of The Cruel Dawn (Vallendor #2)

An army of living-dead Diminished marches ever closer to Mount Devour, a blight upon already-blighted land.

“I can’t believe my eyes,” Elyn says, shaking her head. “They forced the Eserime to do…this?”

I furrow my brows as I look out at the forty living-dead Diminished Mera making their way toward the base of the mountain. “How did they get here so quickly?”

“They must have had help from someone with enough power to Spryte many people at once.” Elyn eyes the sky—it’s darkened to match the sick-green tinge of the Sea of Devour. The land beneath her feet has been drained of life. “And—”

Her words catch in her throat. She swallows them, clenching her jaw. Silently, she marches beside me wearing new platinum armor and a blue cloak, her gaze locked on the path that leads to war.

Ten Raqiel sentinels dressed in red mail march behind us. No one speaks—the steady rhythm of boots against the earth and the distant rumble of thunder are the only sounds we hear.

The wind picks up, carrying with it the scent of mold and death.

The new armor I wear is the armor of my dreams: bloodred-and-gold catherite, with a breastplate adorned with vines and moths, and shoulder plates embossed with bursts of light.

My crimson cloak has also been embroidered with protective runes: arrows and crossed spears, deer and dragonflies.

And I own new boots that fit, too, conveying power and poise with every step.

My clean hair smells of lavender and peppermint, my braids threaded again with thin strands of luclite. A supple brown leather scabbard accommodates the weight of Cruel Dawn. An ankle scabbard worthy of Victory matches the larger sheath.

This new amulet thrums against my chest, the vibrant moth a protective shield against the sickness of my struggling realm—but not a shield against other gods.

I can do more—no, I can do it all —but so can Danar Rrivae.

So can Zephar Itikin—though as Diminished, he and his lissome blades have limits.

I must press those blades to that limit, and then I must break them… and then I must break him .

Suddenly, an explosion louder than a thunderclap rolls across the firmament.

The clouds darken into banks of red-and-black mist.

We all shudder and gape at the violent sky.

“What’s—?” Elyn’s breath catches in her throat as another explosion rocks the land.

The first rocks that strike the ground are no bigger than fists and hit the ground like hail showers. The explosions grow louder as that mist rolls toward us.

The falling rocks are bigger now. The earth jolts with each strike, and fire flares every time a boulder slams into the ground.

I’m running out of time. Emerging from the smoke, the fiery meteors soon take shape, growing arms and legs…

BOOM!

These explosions are not meteors. They are Diminished, but they remain living Mera. Though they have been shrunken in size as punishment for their crimes against the Aetherium, they are still gods, still larger than any beings in this realm.

Yekaa…Yekaa…YEKAA!!

The destruction war cry of the Mera being shouted by a chorus of Diminished Mera.

“Kai!” Elyn screams.

A throwing knife flies to my right, headed low toward my calves.

I block that knife with my vambrace, and the blade cracks against that forearm armor. The impact sends a jolt up to my shoulder and neck.

That knife belongs to one of the warriors who’d joined me many seasons ago as I destroyed realms. Now, that warrior is a Crusader, wearing the brand of fiery crossed swords on their chest.

All the Diminished, living and dead, now shout, “Yekaa,” and the earth buckles beneath our feet.

The Raqiel waste no time and surround Elyn and me.

Elyn grabs my elbow. “They’re not here to help us, right?”

I shake my head, readying my blade. We’re running out of time. Though the Diminished are here to kill me, time remains my greatest enemy.

The largest meteor strikes the ground.

My legs buckle again, and I push myself unsteadily to my feet.

Elyn stumbles back, but a Raqiel sentinel catches her.

The biggest Diminished of them all unfolds from that fiery ball. I recognize that hair, that body, those eyes.

“Zephar,” Elyn and I say together. My lungs constrict in my chest, and my stomach rolls like waves across this sick sea.

Shari lands behind Zephar, her teeth bared, the largest wolf to ever stalk Vallendor.

“He’s here to kill you,” Elyn says.

“And I’m here to kill him .” We are the worst exes ever.

“Kaivara Megidrail,” Zephar calls out.

I take a deep breath, then stalk toward Zephar Itikin, Lord of the Shielded Fount and Prince of Lissom Blades.

As I approach him, the trees around me shrink to shrubs, and the shrubs soon become patches of grass beneath my feet.

In my god-size, I can see all of the provinces—from Weeton in the far east and Caburh in the south.

The sky still roils with smoke, but I can see above the thickest layers.

I swipe my hand across my body, scattering the smoke and making the trees and high grasses sway violently with wind.

Behind me, Elyn and the Raqiel have also assumed their true forms, ready to fight beside me to save Vallendor from both Zephar now and Danar Rrivae when we’ve defeated him.

“You need an entire suit of armor to fight me now?” Zephar cracks, unimpressed.

I peel off my vambraces and greaves and throw them to the ground.

“Kai,” Elyn shouts behind me. “Don’t take the bait!”

I unbuckle my breastplate.

“What are you doing?” Elyn shouts.

I pull off my tunic, and now I’m wearing only my bandeau. Arms extended, I turn before Zephar in a circle. “Tell me what you see,” I shout, my words louder than any war chant.

Yoffa. Melki. Ithlon, all three realms destroyed without approval from the Council under my leadership.

The leaves and vines that connect these to smaller orbs: Hastow, Pontin, Lemoor, Arton, and Fybury, realms that I destroyed under orders in my role as second-in-command to some of the men who would later lie to me about Ithlon and their loyalties to the Crusaders.

The words DESTROYER OF WORLDS inked beneath my heart.

“I am Mera,” I shout, glaring at Zephar and the Diminished who stand behind him.

“From the moment I took my first breath until the moment I speak the word to Supreme. Each of you should be thankful that it’s my mother’s blood that keeps my hands to myself now, that the Eserime in me has kept me from burning each one of you for your betrayal. ”

“Put on your armor,” Elyn hisses.

“I don’t need any armor,” I say, my teeth clenched, my hands burning as rage races like fire through my veins. I point to my opponents. “Your disloyalty will never be forgotten or forgiven. You will forever be Diminished.”

And then, I unsheathe Cruel Dawn and hold her up before me.

Zephar’s eyes widen as he regards the blade. “A sword of linionium,” he gasps.

I cock an eyebrow. “Oh, this little thing? This is just a gift from my father. But this sword won’t be the only way you’ll leave this realm today.”

Zephar snorts and says, “You’re gonna be the one to die today, Abomination.”

I roar, my voice a thunderclap. The ground trembles violently, and the earth buckles beneath our feet. Fault lines spread, swallowing trees and boulders. The land is seared with the heat of my anger.

Zephar roars back at me, his voice the crack of a whip vibrating through the ground. The earth shakes, harder this time, and tears open, into new caverns and canyons. Jagged rocks rise from the earth like sharp teeth.

Around us, the Crusaders scowl and sneer at me, and they raise their swords and spears and shields to the sky.

Their voices rise in a collective, guttural, “Yekaa! Yekaa!” Louder and louder, and the air around them crackles, too, and the ground beneath them also trembles in response. Ready to fight. Ready to destroy.

New mountains thrust from the earth, their peaks splitting the heavens. The world is warping. We are reshaping the realm with our power.

In the distance, I hear the screams and pleas of mortals in Penem and Peria—two cities caught between gods waging war.

Though their anguish echoes from a distance, their distress is real and cuts through the chaos.

I feel their suffering, their helplessness.

Their lives are unraveling as the land beneath them collapses.

This realm bleeds. I need to end this battle—for them.

Zephar has sixty Mera Crusaders and a wolf on his side.

I have ten sentinels and the Adjudicator of Vallendor. I am the only Mera warrior on my side, and I may just lose this fight.

But my blood is that of a Mera warrior who knows nothing of surrender.

And my blood is that of an Eserime steward who knows everything about healing.

Yeah, I’m fucked.

“You have me.”

I know that smoky voice now in my ear. “Shari?” She is still standing beside Zephar.

“I was yours in the beginning,” she says, “in your true state. And I’m yours again, Mother. Some gifts can be taken back.”

A lump rises in my throat, but there’s no time to think or respond. Mortals scramble across the realm in search of safety, some running between the feet of Elyn and the sentinels like ants rushing from their overturned hills to find new dens before the floods arrive.

A screech fills the air and then louder and louder rumbling. An enormous ball of fire and black smoke careens from the east in a maze of red lightning. This ball is so bright in its blackness that the Crusaders turn their hateful gazes from me to watch its descent.

The earth shakes even before—

Zephar shouts, “Shields!”

The clank of catherite can barely be heard before—

This ball strikes the ground so hard that we all fall to our knees. Rocks and splintered trees rain down upon those shields.

This is no meteor. The man who emerges from the flames is taller than Zephar and all the Diminished, and not one patch of his skin is free of markings.