CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
RHYAN
“LYR!” I screamed. Dario’s knife was pushing onto my neck. But I didn’t fucking care. Because Kane was on top of Lyr, her shirt ripped open, and her heart alight. I swore on all the Gods. He would not hurt her. He would not touch her!
Every muscle in my body was straining, fighting. I was using everything I had, every last store of power inside me. And at last, I heard it. The sound of the first tear of the fucking ropes. Then there was another. And another.
“LYR!” I screamed again, but a wave of dizziness washed over me. My vision blurred and I fell to my knees.
I was in my father’s Seating Room. In hell. And Lyr … Lyr was there. Lyr needed me.
And then she was gone. And so was everything else. I was being pulled away, losing control. Losing my sense of reality—of this life.
No! No!
I blinked, disoriented. Kane was before me. But … not Kane. He wore ancient looking armor as we battled. A yellow crystal hung from his neck. He heaved his sword overhead. It was a killing blow. But I dodged as he slammed his blade down. Every muscle in my body was agony. I was bleeding, injured. More than that. I was dying.
I glanced down at my hands, burned and scarred from the fall. I could barely hold onto my sword. I was so weak.
“Too slow, Auriel. Always too slow,” he taunted.
I gripped my blade, fighting to keep it from slipping through my sweating hands. I could do this. I had to do this. And I used all I had left to straighten my body, to stand up tall. One more hit … I just needed one more.
But right then, I realized, I wasn’t alone. Asherah watched from behind a stone column, her red hair gleaming in the torchlight. Her eyes were full of fire, her stave drawn. I nearly fainted at the sight of her.
She’d come. She’d found me. Her gaze met mine, holding me, steadying me, and then she nodded. The blue light of her magic sparked forth, followed by a glow of red. Asherah’s red, the light of the Valalumir she still possessed. She rushed forward with a war cry, and her stave vanished, replaced by her starfire sword.
Shiviel stumbled back, caught unaware.
I readjusted my fingers along the hilt, my grip finally tightening, and together, Asherah and I plunged our blades through Shiviel’s body, cutting through his armor, slicing him in half.
My body was flung backwards and Asherah screamed.
I snapped back to Seathorne, back to my father’s Seating Room. He stood on the dais, a look of triumph on his face.
Lyr was unconscious on the ground, her tunic torn open by that fucking bastard Arkturion Kane. The golden light of the Valalumir in her heart was just beginning to fade. And hovering over her, his face full of hatred, was the Guardian of the Yellow Light. The reincarnated God.
Kane was Shiviel.