Page 78 of The Fallen and the Kiss of Dusk (Crowns of Nyaxia #4)

MISCHE

E verything happened so fast. The explosion in Gideon’s hand consumed the room in a billow of divine smoke, sending me flying black. Glass shattered. The rafters moaned, crashing down.

My body, fragile and not quite mortal, felt broken. I dragged myself up through the wreckage. Barely had time to take in the scene before me. Gideon’s motionless, destroyed body, the broken windows, Raihn and Oraya blinking away the remnants of the illusion, and then?—

Gold in the sky. Plummeting to the ground like?—

My stomach plummeted in dread.

My mouth opened to scream a warning.

Too late.

BOOM , as another explosion rocked the Nightborn palace. And then another, and another, like notes in a grotesque melody of death, and?—

I shielded my eyes, the world briefly dimming, as I flew back again. Hit the wall, and barely felt it. My hands groped for a weapon, for a mind, anything.

The glass roof had collapsed, transforming the tile mosaic floor into a sea of glittering blue and silver and purple. With it had gone part of the wall, offering a glimpse into the rest of the palace. I could no longer hear anything over the screams.

Shiket’s followers had overtaken the House of Night. As if they had been waiting. As if they’d already known we were here.

It was worse than what I had seen in the House of Shadow. There were so many Sentinels I couldn’t count them. A sea of black-spattered gold masks and white robes quickly soaking in vampire blood.

I staggered around to see, through the shattered windows, hundreds more figures pouring through the distant docks—from ships that had been hidden by the soupy mist, now looming over the shore.

How? A god’s work, surely. The specifics, in this moment, did not matter.

Raihn and Oraya, disoriented with the remnants of the illusion, threw themselves into battle, looking every bit the legendary warriors. Jesmine screamed commands, clutching a wounded arm.

I needed a weapon. I needed to find?—

My eyes jumped to Asar across the room, rising from a sea of darkness. Beside him, Luce snarled and fought.

His eyes locked on mine.

I reached for him?—

But then a scream tore from my throat.

A terrible burning sensation seared the back of my neck, beneath a metal grip.

I hit the wall, then the ground. And then my own terrified face stared back at me, bisected by two jagged scratches across a smooth gold mask.

I saw myself in the Citadel, pledging my life to the god I would one day kill.

Saw myself with the blood of those I loved most smeared on my lips.

“There is nowhere left to go,” the Sentinel said, somewhat sadly. “It is time to face your justice, fallen one.”

I kicked, scratched, bit. But I was just one mortal—just one wraith, seized by the hand of a god.

The last thing I saw as the Sentinel hoisted me over their shoulder was Asar, face twisted in horror, lunging for me.

But he was too slow.

The Sentinel leapt into the sky, and the world was consumed in white.