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Daimon

The sound of the dragon roaring made Daimon skid to a halt. The creature should not have been answering to Moros, and yet it was.

Another roar sounded and Daimon snapped into focus, his feet moving as he ran for Moros. This creature was three times the size of the wyverns—even Vero, who was the largest Daimon had ever seen. Not only that, but it breathed fire. No wyvern could do that.

Seeing the fleet made his chest tighten. On instinct, he searched for Zephyr, calling on their bond so they could join their unit. But the connection that tied him to his wyvern was empty—broken. Like the rope was there, but severed in the middle.

Senna was still on the ground with their army, slowly picking apart the remaining rebels. They had a vast quantity of soldiers with them, while Moros’s numbers had dwindled to less than fifty.

Moros and the dragon shot into the sky, disappearing into the clouds. Vero took off after them, and Brielle shouted his name in panic. Aster and Willow immediately followed and they all disappeared within the clouds .

From the corner of his eye, Daimon saw the blur of light. His shadows stirred inside of him in response.

Evelina.

He could feel her magic, even though he couldn’t see her. She was still here, safely tucked away in the dream realm.

The dragon roared, followed by the high-pierced shriek of a wyvern.

Daimon couldn’t see a damned thing from the ground. He growled in frustration. He couldn’t kill Moros if he was in the sky.

He watched as time suspended. The sky was dark—still.

A wyvern screamed in pain.

Light flashed through the clouds, a blazing stream of fire. It all happened so fast. The fire showed the outline of a wyvern in its crossfire, but the wyvern banked right just in time.

It went dark again, the fire dying out.

Daimon’s heart pounded in his chest, his frustration growing.

In a flash, the dragon’s fire illuminated the sky. Daimon watched the outline of its jaws close around the neck of a wyvern.

“No!” Daimon screamed at the same time a burst of light shot from beside him, barreling through the sky, aimed directly at the dragon clothed in shadows. For a moment, he saw the shimmering outline of Evelina, her cheeks streaked with tears.

He watched as her magic enveloped the creature and it thrashed, trying to hide from her. The dragon pulled back, retreating into the night sky, Moros with it.

Daimon strained to see where the dragon went, calculating how to track it down.

But then Moros was momentarily forgotten as a wyvern dropped through the clouds. It tumbled through the sky, belly up and wings folding around itself.

It was Vero.

Daimon watched in horror as he free-fell at a blinding speed .

The wyvern crashed into the ground, sand flying in all directions with the impact.

Daimon sprinted toward the wounded creature, his flesh prickling as if the Shadow Realm were attempting to peel it back, to hold him within it. But he kept going, knowing he was teetering on the edge of being too far outside of it. There was still a cloud of sand in the air, making it nearly impossible to see what was happening.

Silence followed as the shaking ceased.

Daimon coughed, using his shadows to clear the air. He froze once the sand settled.

Vero hadn’t brought his wings in by mistake. He had fallen with Brielle tucked into his talons, his large, leathery wings cocooning her.

She rolled out of his talons, coughing and clutching her stomach.

“Vero.” Brielle’s voice shook. “Get up, V.”

Vero didn’t move.

Everything was still as Brielle approached her wyvern. She reached out a shaky palm and pressed it against Vero’s scales. A sob broke from her chest and she fell to her knees. She clutched Vero’s side, tears streaming down her face.

“No,” Daimon breathed.

Brielle clawed at her chest, screaming, as if her heart had been torn out of her body.

Daimon kept his shadows wrapped tightly around him, but watching Brielle sob against her wyvern made him release them slowly.

A dark shadow passed over them and his head snapped up. He watched the dragon fly to the ground and land on the beach, unbothered, while Moros screamed. They landed on the edge of the border, the creature being pulled to the Shadow Realm just as Daimon was.

He needed to get to them before it was too late.

Daimon took off, back toward the border, his heart clenching as Brielle’s cries faded behind him. She hadn’t seen him. It was easier that way.

The dragon screamed, shrinking away from something only it could see. It shook Moros off its back and took off into the night sky.

Wyverns were fiercely loyal, always putting their Rider first.

But dragons bowed to no master.

The beast left Moros. It had likely bent to the strength of his dark magic, but Moros never had any business calling on a creature of such esteem.

Daimon watched him double over with his hands bracing his knees.

“Moros,” he hissed. He stood tall, his magic poised and ready to strike.

Moros whipped around, his chest heaving. When he saw Daimon, his face twisted into anger. Daimon drew Nightfall and smiled. He knew he had him—that this was all about to be over. He stalked toward him, his shadows shooting out to wrap around Moros so he couldn’t move.

Moros’s eyes widened when he saw the dagger. He struggled against the shadows, hissing as Daimon approached.

Daimon stopped in front of him and leaned in close. “You’ve harnessed a power that no human should.” His voice was low. Dark. “You’ve led a rebellion that turned into a war that ended countless lives.”

He could hear footsteps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder and found Senna running toward them, the rest of the group further down on the beach.

Moros opened his mouth, but Daimon didn’t give him a chance to speak.

“You’ll never hurt someone I love again.”

He drove the dagger into his chest.

For Keir.

The knife sunk deeper and Moros’s eyes widened.

For his fleet .

Daimon yanked the blade out and slashed it across Moros’s face.

For Queen Embry, Carwyn, Ren, and Lyria.

Daimon felt his shadows flare with hunger at the taste of the blood they so often craved. He let them feast, drawing more and more pain out from behind Moros’s eyes.

Senna stopped beside him, his chest heaving, as Moros dropped to the ground.

For the thousands of others who have died on both sides.

Darkness reached for Daimon, wrapping around him as Senna turned to him. His eyes widened.

“You’re alive,” Senna whispered. His gaze fell to Moros. “You did it.”

Daimon slowly stepped back, the pull in his chest forcing him back as the sun began to crest the horizon.

“Daimon, you’re alive ,” Senna repeated in disbelief. He lowered his blade. “You killed Moros.”

“No,” Daimon said quickly. “I didn’t. No one can know I was here.”

Senna’s brows furrowed. “You’ll return to a hero’s homecoming. Evelina will?—”

“You have to be the one.” Daimon drew to the ground, dipping his hand to Moros’s chest and coating it in his blood. Then he reached up and smeared it along Senna’s blade. “You’re the one who slayed him. Do this for me.”

Senna shook his head, growing frustrated. “I cannot lie about such a thing.”

“You must, for Evelina.” Daimon wrapped himself in his shadows once more, securing the walls he was supposed to keep built. “Tell her that her happiness is all I’ve ever cared about.”

No one could know Daimon was still alive. He was still bound to the Shadow Realm, and he couldn’t risk anyone looking for him—especially his fleet. He knew them well enough to know they would try, but he also knew their efforts would be futile. He wouldn’t be the reason anyone else lost their life. He still belonged to the shadows; deep down, he always knew that he would. No matter how hard he fought for redemption, there would always be a stain of darkness within him.

Valon soldiers were sprinting toward them. Daimon slowly backed away, over the border and into the Shadow Realm. The soldiers had their magic at the ready, but it dulled once they reached Senna and they saw the body and the blood on his sword. Before he could say a word, they praised Senna’s name as the rebel slayer.

A shimmering light caught Daimon’s eye, a flash of hazel eyes blinking up at him. He could hardly see her, but he could feel Evelina there.

“The sun is nearly up now,” he said softly.

Her lips moved, but no sound came out.

He shook his head, and just before disappearing back into the darkness to which he was bound, grief rumbling in his throat, he said, “This time, Eve, I need you to wake up.”