Page 69 of The Cruel Dawn (Vallendor #2)

The world is changed now. The daystar hasn’t yet peeked over the horizon.

The nightstar still lights the dark sky.

No blue birds or nightingales sing, nor do children dance to our victory songs.

There is no laughter, no mirth. This place still reeks of death.

This land still languishes with disease.

The waters remain poisoned, and the dead lie in mounds here in Gasho and all across Vallendor.

All because of our diseased hearts that desire power.

But Vallendor is ripe for change, eager for healing. The world is different now—and so am I.

But my army—from the mighty Mera to the fearless Renrians—smile because together, we overcame the brutality of Syrus Wake’s reign as emperor and Supreme Manifest. We overcame Danar Rrivae’s petty revenge as he sought vengeance against his perceived enemies and, ultimately, against Supreme.

We conquered the worst barrier—my ego—to reach a place of hope. But there’s so much work to do.

Again, the city gates of Gasho hang off their hinges like teeth hanging from diseased gums. Sybel Fynal, Grand Steward of Vallendor and the Lady of Dawn and Dusk, directs stewards from across the Aetherium to heal the mortal survivors of this gods’ war.

While the Eserime fill their gold pitchers with new water to replenish the soiled canal and wells, the Mera clear away the dead and burned, and cleanse Gasho with more purification fire so that all new growth blooms and thrives.

The Dindt will soon arrive by the Glass of Infinite Realms to provide expertise to the survivors on rebuilding.

They will also restore the exquisite bath that Prince Idus built for me.

I want Gasho to be rebuilt stronger than ever—and to aid in this, I will send select groups of mortals to the places where gods fell, to gather hardened blood that has transformed into new jewels.

However, I will forbid them to dig farther than a day’s work—any more would destroy the land and the creatures that live there.

I head over to Sybel, whose hands hover over the body of a living yet unconscious ancress of Gasho. “Will she survive?” I ask.

Sybel offers me an encouraging smile. “She and several others will pull through. This province is not entirely a graveyard.”

I bow my head. “And am I closer to who I was meant to be?”

Sybel takes my hand in hers. “You are more . That’s all we ever wanted.” She squeezes my hand and adds, “Lyra would fall in love with you all over again.”

My father talks with his generals, their voices low but firm, discussing the division of work that lies ahead. He’s changed out of his dirty orange-and-red robes and now wears a sleek gown made of black fabric that drapes elegantly over his broad shoulders.

I approach the group, offering a quiet but heartfelt thanks for all they’d done for Vallendor and for me.

Father rests his hand lightly on my shoulder, a silent command to stay beside him until the other Mera leave us to carry out his orders. Once they leave us:

“How did it feel to fight again?” I ask him, smiling.

He chuckles. “My blood moved through my veins like lightning. But my heart aches… I don’t miss this part.

” He gazes out at a realm that cries out for healing—the sick, the dead and dying, the choking smoke, the remnants of life crumpled and crumbling beneath the weight of destruction.

Exhaustion lines his face. He sees that so much has been lost.

I see it, too. But! There’s evidence of good things to come, a hopeful future after the chaos.

I point to the growing pool of water that would take humans half a day to reach. “That will soon be a new lake that will quench the thirst of those living here.”

I point to the large gaps in the land to the west. “Those will be beautiful canyons. Though the dirt is now red with blood, it will one day become another place of new life and learning. A river will run through it all, and it will be one of the most beautiful places on Vallendor. And—”

I pause, allowing the weight of the possibilities to sink in. “Gasho will once again become a center for knowledge, for growth, for everything this land was before and shall be.”

It will take time, but even the deepest scars will one day be flooded with new life.

And I’ll see it through.

Still …my face falls as I consider another truth. “If I hadn’t been defeated so many times—”

“Those defeats still moved you toward victory,” Father says, lifting my chin. “And now, you stand here and Vallendorians will once again feel your love. They’ll crave your touch, and that will lead them to each other.”

I smile and say, “Yes.”

“Lord Megidrail?” Another Mera general approaches with a large, heavy bag. She opens the pack and presents the contents to us: Danar Rrivae’s scythe and amulet.

“Will you take all of it back to Linione?” I ask Father.

“Immediately.” He nods back to his general and then turns to kiss my forehead. “Return to the abbey after you set everyone their tasks for the next age. Let’s have dinner together before I return to Linione.”

I nod, smile, and accept another kiss on the forehead. I say nothing as he steps back with a pop!

He’s gone—only a lick of Spryte flame marks where he just stood.

Elyn stands at the entrance to the Temple of Celestial, her armor dull with dried blood, her hair stuck to her skull with the same gore, and her mouth set in a frown.

I groan. “Don’t you bring me bad news now.”

Her frown deepens.

My pulse flares in my chest. “What?”

…

“So where is he, then?” I ask, following Elyn back out to the blood-soaked desert, alarm hot in my throat.

“I don’t know,” Elyn admits as she leads me across this transformed landscape.

“Did they find Syrus Wake’s head yet?”

Elyn says, “The otherworldly took it into the sea.”

“Shit,” I say. “What about Jadon’s hand?”

Elyn sighs. “I don’t know.”

“His body?”

Elyn blinks at me and averts her gaze, staring intently at Shari trotting in front of us.

We stop where Jadon had collapsed after he cut off his hand.

Then we follow a trail of vibrant red blood that leads to the canyons.

We don’t speak as we pass cratered ground, hydrasalts tails, date palm trunks, and broken blades.

My mind spins. I thought Jadon was dead.

That’s why I’d delayed coming to claim his body but now…

The trail of blood ends right as the land rises to become canyon walls.

“Shari,” I say, “find Jadon.”

The wolf sniffs the air and bounds into the canyon.

Elyn and I run after the black wolf and into a sea of mist drifting through the passageways. My head hurts so much that my vision blurs. At any moment, my victory could slip into another defeat, because who will we find at the end of this path?

The buzzing of corpse flies grows louder than my pounding heart.

Gore from the battles—soldiers, horses, otherworldly—is scattered throughout the landscape as far as my eyes can see, prizes hoarded by the windwolves and other scavengers of Doom Desert.

There is no single trail of blood to guide us now, and every path has been spoiled with darkened and congealed blood.

There are so many dead here, and Jadon could be in any of these piles.

A few soldiers who’d been taken for dead but lived now stagger through the canyons, hugging the walls for support. Not one of them wears a complete suit of armor. Not one of them moves faster than a tortoise.

I approach the most clear-eyed man, the one with the lightest amber glow, and grab his jerkin.

He wears Veril’s fox amulet around his neck.

I snatch the pendant from him and shout, “Jadon Wake: have you seen him?”

“Lady!” His heart thuds once under my hand and then beats no more. His eyes glaze and his head lolls. He’s dead.

“Shit, Kai,” Elyn mutters.

I stow the fox pendant beneath my breastplate and then lay the now-dead man atop the closest pile of fallen soldiers.

If he had Veril’s amulet, that soldier must’ve seen Jadon…

We move through the ravine, Shari in the lead, sniffing the air. She finds another survivor.

This soldier wears one of Wake’s tunics and creeps along the wall as though lava has replaced sand.

This time, I keep my hands to myself and call out, “Hey…” What’s his name? “Arnold!”

Arnold gapes at me and whispers, “Oh, Guardian, gentle Lady of the Verdant Realm, hear the humble plea…”

I don’t want to interrupt his prayer, but windwolves lurk on the ledge above us, ready to eat the fallen.

This time, I gently tap the soldier’s head, and his aura brightens to blue. “Have you seen Prince Wake?” I whisper.

Arnold, now bright-eyed and sweet-breathed, shakes his head. “No, Lady.”

I tell him, “Go,” and send a worried glance at the cliffs above us. “You will leave that man or else,” I tell the wolves.

Shari sniffs the air, then releases a mournful howl that echoes through the chasm.

Elyn and I race behind Shari as she leads us through walls of broken rocks and broken soldiers.

Bones lie scattered across the ground, crunching under our feet like dry twigs.

Pieces of broken armor and torn clothes belonging to those who fought and died lie discarded and trampled in the sand.

The smell of decay blends with the scents of earth.

We trek over the bones, though the sharp edges catch on our boots. We don’t slow down even as the chasm grows tighter and the walls press in so close that sometimes we must move sideways. The world narrows. It’s a blur of red walls.

Shari’s low growls signal that we’re getting closer. There is light ahead at the end of the canyon.

Moths the color of fire and forest flutter over a mountain of bloody rocks, severed hands, and bones from humans and beasts.

Elyn whispers, “Oh, no.”

We burst into open air under an immense sky streaked now with finger-like clouds. We skid to a stop at the largest pile of scavenged bones I’ve ever seen.

I use the tip of Cruel Dawn to push through the heap of bones…

A blue-tinged mail breastplate. Fuck. Jadon was wearing this armor.

I continue my search and push aside…

A cap-sleeved leather tunic. “That’s his, too,” Elyn whispers.

I continue my search even though my shaky hand can barely hold on to my sword and…

No . A chain with the moth amulet.

I pull my old pendant from the mess. The black stone in the moth’s thorax pulses with light. I stare at the amulet, unable to speak.

Elyn takes over the search, using Justice’s blade to sift through the remains. I keep my eyes on the amulet until…

“He’s not here, Kai,” Elyn whispers.

Shari howls and pants.

Fifty paces away, a lounge of hydrasalts tears into some poor creature’s leg. One of those three-headed lizards gnaws at a boot.

“That’s Jadon’s boot,” Elyn says.

I watch the lizards eat until a curtain of tears obscures my vision. Those teardrops fall into the parched earth, and flower buds and blades of new grass sprout through the dirt. I cover my heart with a shaking hand.

I wish…that I could’ve made it right between Jadon and me.

I wish…that I could’ve healed him once and for all.

I don’t regret doing all that I had to in order to save Vallendor. But he’s gone, after making the ultimate sacrifice. For you. For us.

Danar had threatened to cut Jadon’s strings at any time. Little did he know Jadon would cut his own.

Shari howls again, this time because she can feel the weight of my grief. She didn’t know Jadon, but she knows my heart.

“We must leave this place,” Elyn whispers. “We must go back and check on the living.”

I nod and swipe my wet face against my shoulder.

The nightstar burns high above us in the western sky.

Her silver light illuminates everything beautiful and horrible now twisted together in this realm.

But past the stench of death, there’s a new smell.

Fresh honeysuckle and night-blooming jasmine now grow wildly around us—all here because of my fallen tears.

Fireflies flicker and dance across this healing meadow, ready to illuminate the night and the path back to my people, back to my land.

“Look.” Elyn points to the east, where Lumis will soon rise and bring with him a new dawn.

Out there, a figure sprawls across the red dirt. More hydrasalts circle this body, which now glows deepest amber, that shade right before life slips to death.

Who is that?

Elyn, Shari, and I run toward that body.

The lizards hiss and swipe at us. They know we’re about to steal their dinner.

I shout, “Be still.” Shari growls at them.

The hydrasalts hiss again, no longer so determined to keep their prize.

Because the body lying here…the man with that barely open lavender eye and matted chestnut hair is not theirs to keep.

This prize… This man belongs to me.