Chapter 51 Lena
FIFTY-ONE
LENA
The first thing Lena saw when she opened her eyes was Iska raising a sword above Dimas’s head.
She was barely standing. There was a bloodied arrow protruding from her side, and her lips were stained the same crimson as her robes. The emperor was kneeling over a figure Lena couldn’t make out, his back to his cousin.
Lena tried to swing herself upright. To reach out with her magic and stop Iska’s blade from hitting its mark. But Iska was already bringing her sword down in a move too fast for Lena’s muddled mind to comprehend.
Distantly, she heard someone scream Dimas’s name. Saw the familiar shape of a dark-haired soldier coming to a stop in front of the emperor just as Iska’s sword sliced through the air.
Finaen.
A scream tore from Lena’s throat, and the leftover power she’d drawn into herself to sever her connection to Venysa rose up in response. It surged inside of her, a storm demanding to be unleashed.
Lena obeyed.
With a roar, Lena flung the web of threads surrounding her toward Iska. They gathered together as they sliced through the air, a wave of pure energy that slammed the acolyte into the nearest wall. She fell to the ground, the threads around her dimming as her eyes slid shut.
Lena flung herself forward, the space between her and Finaen seeming endless as she stumbled through a maze of bodies clad in crimson robes and imperial armor. But there was only one life she cared about right now. One life she still might be able to save.
She reached him at the same time Ioseph did. The guard did not try to stop her as she fell to her knees over Finaen’s body. As she willed her magic toward a set of threads she could not find.
No, no, no, no, no—
She barely noticed the mountain trembling beneath her as she fell to her knees. All she could see was Finaen, his hazel eyes unfocused, his lips—lips that had once kissed her with such tenderness—coated in blood.
Save him! Lena reached out with her magic again, willing the past Fateweavers to help her find his threads.
But their presence had disappeared the moment she’d awoken, and no matter how hard she tried, Finaen’s threads did not reappear.
Over a decade of memories ran through Lena’s head.
Finaen, holding her when her mother died.
His smile after he’d kissed her the first time, and the frown he’d worn when she’d disappeared for a week afterward.
His face that night in Forvyrg, when he realized what the mark on Lena’s wrist meant, and his expression when Maia had revealed his betrayal.
His voice, fierce and unapologetic. I did it to protect you.
I forgive you, she thought, gripping him tighter, trying to will his threads back into existence. Someone placed a hand on her shoulder, the touch featherlight.
Lena flinched and reached for what little magic she had left, ready to take her grief out on whatever cultist had been stupid enough to approach her. But when she looked, she found Casimir standing over her, his dark eyes sympathetic as he held out his hand.
“We have to go.” He had to shout to be heard over the sound of stone crashing against stone.
Lena had been so focused on Finaen that she hadn’t realized the cavern was collapsing around them.
The blast she’d directed at Iska had been powerful enough to knock down most of the stone pillars and break through the cavern’s far wall.
The few imperial soldiers who were still standing rushed toward the exit, blood and dust making them indistinguishable from one another.
On the chamber floor, it was impossible to tell who had survived the battle and who hadn’t.
It was only when she saw Yana carrying Maia up the cavern steps, when the thought of leaving her alone in the world broke something in her chest, that Lena took Casimir’s hand.
Casimir tugged her toward the entrance, but Lena lingered, her gaze drifting back to Finaen’s lifeless form. “I’m not leaving him here.” She left no room in her voice to argue. She’d carry him on her back herself if she had to.
But Ioseph, who was looking at Dimas as if he wanted nothing more than to gather him in his arms, said, “I’ve got him.”
“No, I’ll do it.” Dimas’s voice was hoarse as he gently lifted Finaen’s body over his shoulder. “I need you to carry Brother Dunstan.”
The High Priest still lay on the ground near the stairs. Ioseph dipped his chin, grief flashing across his features. “Of course.”
The mountain rumbled, sending a fresh cascade of stone and dirt falling onto the chamber floor. Casimir barely managed to dodge a chunk of stone as he tightened his hold on Lena’s hand. This time, when he tugged her forward, Lena did not resist.
They stopped just long enough for Ioseph to lift Brother Dunstan’s limp body into his arms. For Dimas to utter a grief-filled “I’m sorry” as he looked over the fallen bodies of his comrades.
Then they were running for the stairs toward the exit. Toward freedom.
And when the ritual chamber ceiling finally caved in, burying what was left of the first Fateweaver and her followers beneath it, Lenora Vesthir did not look back.