Warrior of the Drowned Empire (Drowned Empire #6)

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

LYRIANA

I backed away, holding up the shield and my sword. My legs widened, my knees bent.

An akadim grabbed the nearest soturion, and within seconds had torn out his throat.

Blood spattered against the wall.

“MORGS!” I screamed.

I inched further back, trying to line myself up with a column. I didn’t know where to start. Who would defend me, and who would let me die. I could only watch in horror as the akadim, tore through the room, grabbing whoever was nearest, biting down on their necks, and shredding through them. They were falling one by one, too quick for me to process, too quick for me to react. I’d fought larger akadim than this—and I’d done so with far less strength. But seeing Morgana now, seeing her control them, command them, it was too much. I couldn’t move.

Another soturion fell and finally I snapped out of it.

“Call them off!” I yelled. “Call them off!”

But Morgana remained unmoved. She stood there, still as a statue, watching me, as blood filled the white tiles of the Throne Room. Scream after scream came as I watched death come nearer.

My eyes welled with tears, and something inside my heart broke. The pain in my chest, this feeling twisting in my gut was far worse than it had been when I’d learned what Arianna was. When that first betrayal had caught me off guard.

Because this time, I had known. I’d known a month ago when the akadim had called her their queen. I just hadn’t wanted to believe it. Had been unable to accept the true horror of it all.

Because a part of me had been holding on. Holding onto my sister, desperate to believe she was still good, that this wasn’t her, that this was temporary. Because deep down, I thought she’d come to her senses, thought she’d come back to us. Because I loved her, and I thought she loved me.

Outside, I could hear the chanting, the shouts getting louder, more excited. Another horn blew. The energy of the crowd, the auras, it was palpable, violent and hungry. Rhyan was outside. My chest tightened. He was in the arena. And he was out of time. Fuck. Fuck!

“Morgana,” I said, eyeing every locked door. “Please! Let me pass.”

She shook her head. “No.” Her eyes raked across the expanse of the shield, of the orange shard pulsing within. “You know what I’m here for.”

I shook my head. The shouts were growing louder, reaching a fever pitch, the excitement full of a bloodlust I could sense from even here. No. No.

“Morgana, please! You know what’s happening out there! Please! It’s Rhyan. Gods, if any part of you is still my sister, let me go! Let me go to him.”

She remained still, blinking slowly, her dark eyes taking in all of the death that filled the room. And then one of the akadim ripped off the belt of the last soturion to fall, and presented it to Morgana. A set of golden keys jingled and she placed them in her pocket.

“It’s because he’s vorakh!” I yelled. I knew that’s what this was. The keys. The chayatim. She was going to release them all. And I wouldn’t stop her. But I wouldn’t allow Rhyan to be the cost.

“You came to save them?” I shouted. “Save him!”

“Give me the shield, and you can save him yourself.”

“I need it. And I need to go. NOW!” A thousand soturi stood between me and him. I needed every advantage. I had no ashvan, no vorakh. Only me and whatever strength I could draw on from Asherah and the Valalumir. I needed everything.

“Don’t you get it?” Morgana hissed. “This is bigger than him. Bigger than us! It’s about all the vorakh. I won’t damn them all for one life. But you would. That’s the difference between us. Look what they did to Jules. And look at everyone in this room. They did that. They hurt her. And they are allowing for more hurt—for what’s happening right now outside. And what makes me sick to my stomach—is they used vorakh to do it. Used our own powers against us, took us, stole our magic. It ends now. The shield is mine by right. And you know it.”

“What’s done here is evil,” I said. My throat tightened with emotion. My gut gnawing at me. “But you think Aemon—Moriel—is any better? Do you think if I hand this to you, he will be reasonable? Kind?”

“What does kindness have to do with suffering?” She shook her head. Her aura pulsing with sharp anger. “I did what I had to. And you’re being an idiot. Hand over the shield! I still hold the indigo shard. I haven’t given it to him yet. Trust me.”

“But you will?” I asked, my heart thundering, someone outside had amplified their voice—they were reading off a list of Rhyan’s crimes, riling up the crowd to accept and revel in his condemnation.

Morgana stepped forward. “Look around you, Lyr. I command the akadim now. Think about it. Did a single one come near you? No! Are you hurt by any of them or me? No. I’m your sister!”

“That’s not what happened last time. You tricked me!”

“I did what I had to.” Morgana’s voice shook, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she seemed to show true emotion. Then her face righted, her lip curled into a sneer. “I am not your enemy. Who did hurt you is the one who tore our family apart, the one who has made life in Lumeria a living hell. And the Empire,” she pointed to the window, “is the one who is about to strip your lover. Not me. I’m here to end this. To free the vorakh. I’m done playing their games.”

“So am I,” I said.

Her eyes narrowed. “Then hand over the shard.”

“I’ll give you the shield,” I said, the feeling in my gut had sharpened. Intensified. The shield felt like it was pulsing in my hand. Growing more powerful, more aware of its connection to Morgana. To Ereshya. But that meant growing closer to Moriel, too. “If you give the indigo back to me. A trade.”

Morgana’s lips quirked up, her face almost sad. “Lyr, you have nothing to bargain for. I hold the power here. Not you. Decide. The shield? Or Rhyan’s life.”

The horn blew again, the sound in a raging battle against thunderous applause. The reading of the crimes had come to an end. The sound was replaced by the chant of “strip him” emanating from the crowd.

“Gods.” My chest heaved, my entire face warm. The three akadim, the ones who could come out now in daylight, walked behind Morgana, waiting for her command. Their eyes reddened, and they looked at me hungrily.

My hand tightened on my sword, but I tried to keep my focus away from them. “How? How do I get to him and save him on my own? How without extra power?”

“Bring the shield to me. Hold onto it, and put your hand on the indigo shard. I will give you strength. Enough to fight. Use it, and call on Asherah. That’s all I can offer.”

The crowd was growing wild. My heart pounded. A warning flared in the back of my mind. What would happen if Aemon took control of the shards. If he called on Rakashonim. If Moriel were unleashed again.

I didn’t care. I was going to save Rhyan.

I raced across the room, and held out my hand, reaching for the shard. “I touch it first,” I said. “Or no deal.”

Her eyes narrowed, but she could read my mind, she knew I spoke the truth.

As soon as my hand was against it, the shard began to glow, the crystal filling with pure indigo light. In the sunlight there was no mistaking the color.

I closed my eyes. Just like in the vision I’d taken from Meera, I saw pure orange light and indigo mixing together. I imagined the light flowing through me, into me, strengthening me. And I imagined the red light, the original shard of the Valalumir in its purest form, inside my heart.

All at once, my body began to warm. Aches and bruises I’d been ignoring, hunger in my belly, strains in my calves—they vanished. The shield felt lighter in my hand, and then everything felt lighter, as if I could fly. My blood began to heat, pulsing and buzzing through my veins—it was a power I could feel in my bones. A strength unlike any other I’d known.

I opened my eyes, meeting Morgana’s. The shield began to pulse, the shard as well. The room was a mix of orange and indigo light and nothing else. It was emanating from Morgana and pouring into me. She stumbled back, and the lights vanished, leaving my body vibrating, my sight clear, as well as my mind.

“Now!” Morgana said. “Go! Now!”

I relinquished the shard and the shield. They’re yours , I thought. Thank you.

In the back of my mind, was the thought I love you. And a prayer that she loved me, too. That this wasn’t another betrayal.

But she only shook her head. “I know,” she said, her eyes red. “Now run!” The door opened. And a wall of soturi stood ready to attack.

I ran from the Throne Room down the hall, sliding through their ranks, my feet barely touching the ground, my legs moving so fast I could barely see them. They yelled, calling after me. But I was down the stairs in an instant, my vision going back and forth between what was in front of me and what I’d memorized. I could see it so clearly, see the path to the arena. Soturi screamed behind me, calling for backup to the Throne Room. I knew the moment they realized how many had died. That the Blade was gone. And suddenly, all of their attention was back there, and not on me. Back on a Throne Room that I knew Morgana had once more locked.

I kept running until I found a window that would lead to the courtyard and then out to the field before the arena. I ran, straight for the glass, my body smashing it to pieces as I leapt and braced for my feet to hit the ground. Not a single piece of glass had cut me. I was untouched, and I wasn’t stopping. An alarm began to ring, but I was already running ahead, moving faster and faster.

I reached the outer wall. A soturion stood on guard. I lifted my mask back up without missing a beat.

“Hey! Slow down!” he yelled, but I kept going running faster. “Drop your weapons!”

I entered the inner hall.

“What are you? Fuck! Stop her!” he screamed.

A soturion rushed at me from the left, but I was ready. My fist swung, hitting him square in his eye. He doubled back and another one came, catching my fist again. I felt someone from behind and revved up my arm, before elbowing them in the chest with enough force they stumbled. I kept running, moving through the corridors. Anyone in my way wasn’t for long. I punched a mage in the face, and knocked another soturion to the ground. After that, everyone stood back, allowing me to pass, seeing me for the threat I was. And then seconds later, I was outside in the stands of the arena. The Nutavian Katurium was just like in my vision and arranged just like the other Katuriums, with surrounding stadium seats and an open field.

In the center was a dais, and on top of it was Rhyan.

I froze, shocked at seeing him like this. He was nearly naked, his skin red, and covered in a mix of sweat and long thick welts, all bleeding. He’d been tied up to a tall golden pole. Kunda Lith the examiner stood beside him. Emperor Avery, the Bastardmaker, Rhyan’s father and Kane all watched on the dais behind him.

Rhyan’s head had fallen forward, his dark curls, bronzed in the sun were matted down with blood and sweat. His shoulders jerked suddenly, his body pushed against the pole. He looked like he was barely hanging on to consciousness.

Kunda pulled back his arm. It looked like a long shining nahashim had wrapped itself around his wrist. It was thick and scaly. The stripping whip. A weapon I’d only ever read about before. One I’d never expected to see. Not outside of my nightmares.

Blue light pulsed around Kunda’s hand, its eerie glow flowing like a damn had burst down his wrist. The magic pushed itself out the remaining length of the whip which was long and flowing in the air behind him. He reared his arm back, and with a snapping sound that tore through my soul, he struck, the whip coming down on Rhyan’s back.

NO!

I leapt over the benches and the gates. My feet touched down inside the arena, as a burst of blue light flowed out of Rhyan, running back up the whip, to Kunda’s hand.

An elderly soturion serving the Emperor in pale gold armor turned, his dagger pointed right at my chest.

I gutted him, watching him fall, holding swords with both hands in front of me, daring anyone else to touch me. The crowd was starting to shift, their attention leaving Rhyan, and focusing on me.

But on the dais Rhyan’s entire body shook, as the whip remained connected to him. He roared in pain, his hands shaking in their bonds, his entire body twitching and jerking. But the whip held onto him, drawing out his power. Stripping him of his magic.

I watched in horror as he slumped over. Then Kunda pulled the whip back. The moment it left Rhyan’s body, a scream tore through him. Through me. Rhyan’s magic was glittering and shining, a ball of light at the end of the whip, pulsing above Kunda’s hand. The audience clamored with excitement, shouting, cheering. Kunda deposited the magic into a black box.

Rhyan’s body convulsed, his muscles contracting, his eyes following the magic as it vanished from his sight. He looked for a second like he was trying to hold back, to regain control, and then he threw his head back and howled, a sound I’d never heard from him before.

A hundred soturi stood between me and the dais.

It wasn’t going to be enough to stop me.

My surroundings went out of focus. The bloodthirsty Lumerians celebrating the violence. The soturi surrounding me, their starfire swords glinting with fire.

I could only see Rhyan. Only see his pained expression as my sword connected to another and another. As my fist met flesh, and I dodged kick and punch and blade.

More were coming. Attention was on me. Rhyan was no longer the spectacle. I felt the subtle shift of the wolves turning their predatory eyes on me. Of Imperator Hart realizing I’d come back. Still, I only saw Rhyan. My hands tightened on my swords, and I continued to swing and scream, racing forward, taking down anyone who stood in my way.

Ducking to avoid a swinging sword, I reached for the leather straps of my belt, pulling off one of the sharpened Valalumir stars. And then I stood, my mask falling off my face, my soturion hood blown back as the evening sun turned my hair to bright, fiery flames. I threw the star straight for Imperator’s Hart throat.

He moved at the last second, his eyes like daggers. And I pulled out another, just about to cut through Kunda’s heart. But it was the fucking Bastardmaker who pushed him aside, taking the hit in his arm. He growled, but it wouldn’t be fatal.

There were more shouts now. My name being called. I was being referred to as forsworn, as a criminal, as a traitor to the Empire. I was to be arrested. And I would be next, publicly stripped.

And only then, my name on the lips of Emperor Avery fucking Kormac, did Rhyan suddenly rally, and lift his head, realizing for the first time, I had come back for him. And that I was almost there.

It was time. Time to call on Asherah. To call on Rakashonim. To make the final push as the remnants of light from the Valalumir, and the indigo and orange shards dancing with the red in my heart, began to fade. Damn all the consequences.

“ Ani Asherah! ” I said, making sure there was no question whose strength I needed. “I call upon her blood, I call upon myself. Help me now.”

A mage appeared before me, bindings shooting forth from their stave. My sword came down and slashed the rope in half.

I ran forward, almost at the dais.

“ Ani petrova rakashonim, me ka el lyrotz, dhame ra shukroya, aniam anam. Chayate me el ra shukroya. Ani petrova rakashonim! ”

All at once, the diamond centers of the Valalumir stars around my neck began to glow, and for once the flames danced outside my chest. I saw fire in the corner of my eyes, fires that engulfed my aura. Power surged inside me, rushing from my head to my toes, bursting through my fingertips, igniting with every breath I took.

They were running from me now. Emperor Avery and the Bastardmaker were being taken from the dais, rushed out of the arena. Lumerians were screaming in terror. My name was being shouted along with cries for help.

“Protect His Majesty!” someone screamed.

“Guard His Highness!”

Ashvan started to descend from the sky, pulling carriages. Escapes for the elite.

I moved past the rest of the soturi on the ground—those brave enough to still fight me.

One final soturion, a member of Ka Kormac, wearing a wolf pelt reminiscent of the Bastardmaker’s rushed for me, a sword in each hand. I pressed mine together, and before he could strike, I rammed both blades through his belly.

His eyes widened, his mouth opening as blood poured down his chin, and then he fell.

Only Kunda remained on the dais with Imperator Hart. Kane emerged from behind him. I took another star and I threw it at his face. He screamed as it cut through his cheek, and he fell from the dais.

Kunda was turning, getting ready to run.

“Finish it!” Imperator Hart screamed. Then his eyes met mine, a dark gleam of victory inside them. “Lyriana! Stop! Drop your weapons. Now!”

The familiar flow of blood through my veins came along with the pain of the blood contract. My body stopped, wanting to freeze and obey, to listen to him as it had been forced to for the past month. And then, fire burned through me.

I raced forward, closing the distance between me and the dais.

Whether it was the Valalumir lights or Asherah’s power, I didn’t know. But the contract had just been burned out of my body.

“The final one!” Rhyan’s father shouted, his voice urgent. I could feel the fear in his aura now. He knew what I was, he’d feared it for some time. But he still had control over the Examiner. “End it. Kunda, now!”

“NO!” I screamed. “I will kill you!”

But with a pained look in his eyes, Kunda let the whip fly.

I reached the dais, jumping up and running straight for the Examiner. He held his hands up and I shoved him, hard enough for him to fly off the stage and onto his back. A loud crack sounded as he landed. His eyes closed.

The stripping whip was still attached to Rhyan’s back and he was still screaming, and crying, as if a knife were stabbing him again and again. I reached for the whip, determined to pull it off him, to use my healing to keep it from hurting him, but his father got there first. Grabbing and yanking it off. The strip detached and then Rhyan made a sound that shouldn’t have been possible to make. It was primal, and ancient, and pained, and scared, and something inside of my soul cleaved in two. There was a second where I had to decide whether to fight Imperator Hart and claim the box full of Rhyan’s magic, or go to Rhyan. To save him.

I was at the pole a second later as Imperator Hart ran from the dais toward the waiting ashvan, pushing a scared soturion to the ground. Kane ran behind him, looking back just once, a promise of death in his eyes, his face bloodied and swelling.

I sheathed my swords, eyeing our surroundings. We were alone for the moment, but not for long. I pulled out my stave, letting it slide from the leather scabbard Rhyan had gotten me, and pointed it to the sky, uttering the incantation needed for a protective dome. White light burst from the end, and spiraled in sparkling waves around us. We were inside, and we were untouchable. But not for long.

Blood covered Rhyan’s body. His muscles were twitching and contracting. He’d collapsed against the pole. The distinct pungent smell of sweat clung to him, as well as something coppery and metallic. His blood. But there was more.

I scented vomit. And the other scent in the air came from a small pool of liquid by his feet. He’d wet himself, too.

None of it mattered to me. I reached out my aura, trying to warm him, to comfort him.

But that was the moment when I realized … I couldn’t feel his calling back to me. There was no cold, no sensation of a comforting night, as quiet and soft as freshly fallen snow. There was no balm to my heat, no balance to my fires, no softening to my pain.

Rhyan’s aura was gone.

That final strip had taken all of his magic.

I sank to my knees, ripping off my soturion cloak and wrapping it around him, trying not to hurt his back, but it was impossible. He’d been whipped within an inch of his life. There was no part of his body uninjured, or that wouldn’t cause him excruciating pain if touched. I remembered how it felt when I’d been whipped. How my back had been torn to shreds. Everything that touched it hurt—and now Rhyan had that same feeling, only it was everywhere.

I focused my energy on my hands, letting any healing power I had flow through me as I reached for what appeared to be a clean spot on his shoulders. The magic flowed at once, and his breath slowed. Just a little. I could feel his pain then, feel the whip. Feel my skin breaking open, my muscles bruising.

Shit. I bit back a cry. And I poured more energy in.

“Lyr?” Rhyan asked suddenly, his voice was raw and scratched. Slowly, he opened his eyes, red and bloodshot. There was something in them—the loss he’d endured, and the trauma evident in the strange color they now had. Like the light inside him, the glow behind the emerald color, the connection to his essence, his soul, was gone. There was vomit mixed in with the blood on his chest. A pool of it on the ground beneath him, just below where his head had fallen. “Are you …” he coughed, making a horrible retching sound, and blood dribbled on his chin, “you’re really here?”

“I’m really here, Rhyan,” I said, biting my lip to keep from crying, from screaming. I was taking on his pain. But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fucking enough. None of his wounds were closing. “I’ve got you. It’s all right. It’s over now. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to protect you.”

“You’re here,” he said again. But I could barely hear the words. He was so weak, he didn’t even sound like himself. Every part of him was shaking and his skin was so cold despite how red it was. “You shouldn’t be.”

“Not your decision right now.”

I was distantly aware that there was an attack on the dome around us. Mages striking it with their magic. Soturi thrashing it with the swords. Everything was bouncing back, but I could feel the brunt of the hits, and I knew we were running out of time.

Rhyan tried to hold onto the cloak, to cover himself, but he was too weak, and let it fall. I picked it back up and wrapped it around his shoulders again, and reached beneath his arms, pulling him back to his feet. The moment his heels were on the ground, he stumbled forward, falling to his knees and crying out in pain.

He was so injured that he looked ready to faint. His eyes rolled back in his head, and I reached for him again, pouring more energy into him. It was starting to drain me. I could feel the barest hint of exhaustion creeping through my aura, into my body.

Not yet!

Once more, I got him to his feet, and this time, I supported all of his weight with my hands, pulling him against me, and hugging him, knowing it would pain him. But it had to be done. I couldn’t let him fall again.

He made an animalistic sound, some kind of pitiful mewing that ended in a cry.

“Sorry,” he breathed.

“It’s okay,” I said. “You’re going to be okay. We’re going to fix this. I swear.”

He shook his head, the movement labored. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep. It’s too late,” he said. “Too late.”

“No. No! It’s not. Because we’re together. I’m going to get you out of here, I just need you to stand for me. Okay, Rhyan? Can you do that for me? Just keep leaning into me. Put all of your weight on me, it’s okay. I’ve got you. We’re getting out of here.”

“I can’t. I … I can’t. Lyr.” His voice broke on my name, and he shook his head. “It’s done. They’ve taken it. Taken it all.” He started to sob.

“No, they haven’t! They haven’t. Because you’re still alive!” I yelled. “You survived!”

But he wasn’t listening.

“I’m going to heal you,” I said, letting more of my aura reach him, imagining the red light in my heart pouring into his aura.

Bring his magic back , I commanded it. Bring it back. Heal him. Heal him.

Every inch of him was shaking, trembling. He eyed my cloak warily. It was paining him, every piece of the material that touched him hurt him, and I couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t undo it. I wasn’t sure my magic was doing anything anymore to soothe him.

“I’m sorry. Sorry about the cloak. I know it’s hurting you. But we need to keep you covered. Okay? I’ll get you cleaned up as soon as I can. I promise. I’ll make the pain go away. And I swear on all the Gods, no one else will hurt you. No one else will lay a fucking finger on you. I’m going to take care of you, Rhyan. I swear!”

He stared at the ground, his eyes closing.

“Rhyan! Hey! Hey! You look at me. Stay with me.”

I saw the effort it took for him to barely lift his head. I couldn’t ask any more of him. Not until we were safe and I could heal him fully.

I reached for his knees, and swept my arm beneath them. With a surge of energy rushing through my legs, my thighs shaking, I lifted him up, cradling him against my chest.

His head fell against my shoulder with a groan. My calves burned. I was strong enough to hold him, but he was so big that it was impossible to get a comfortable angle. I leaned back, and with a grunt, moved his arm around my neck for extra support.

He made a wheezing, pained sound.

“Partner,” he said, his lips moving against my armor. “I’m dying. Leave me. Get out of this place, away from my father. Emperor. Before he returns. Before … before the magic runs out.”

“No.” My vision blurred with tears. “You’re not dying! It’s just a rope! Just a fucking rope.” My voice shook, as I climbed down from the stage. I just had to keep my focus, keep the dome strong, keep it going until we left the arena, then I’d find us a horse, and we’d be out of here. I just had to keep going. Keep walking. Keep holding Rhyan. He wasn’t going to die. I wouldn’t let him.

“Always … stubborn.” Rhyan’s face fell, but his eyes met mine. “I love you.” He flinched as I stumbled onto the field.

“I love you, too.” I readjusted him in my arms, my chest heaving with exertion. “Gods. You make this look so easy.”

Despite the pain he was in, he managed to curl his lip into the semblance of a smile. “It was.”

I ran. The soturi around us were starting to give up on breaking into the dome, as were the mages, and we began to move faster, moving inside to one of the enclosed stalls. A row of benches lay ahead of us, and a low stone ceiling provided some shade from the sun.

We were going to make it. I was sure of it. Rhyan had been stripped, a process said to be nearly impossible to survive but he’d survived. We were doing the fucking impossible. And we were going to keep doing it, no matter what the cost.

Someone shouted in the distance. “Prisoners escaped!”

My stomach twisted, but then they began running away from us, out of the Katurium.

And I remembered the keys Morgana had taken from the dead soturion.

She was freeing the vorakh, creating just enough of a distraction, that there was hope. That we could sneak out.

“It’s the vorakh,” I told Rhyan. “They’re being freed.”

“How?” he croaked.

I bit my lip, not wanting to tell him, but knowing I had to. “Morgana. She … I gave her the shield. She’s using it to free them all.”

“They have two shards now?” he asked.

I nodded, becoming more unsure of my decision.

But before I could say anything, I heard a scream. A chilling, terrified, pained sound. I turned toward the field, still full of hundreds of Lumerians trying to escape.

My stomach dropped. Aemon was walking across the center of the arena, and behind him were two dozen akadim. Another dozen were already in the stands, attacking whoever was near.

Rhyan’s eyes widened. I could see the moment he realized what he was looking at, the shock in his face, his mouth falling open. I didn’t know what was going on, or how they’d come to be. These akadim were smaller, just like the ones that had been with Morgana. They were just as fierce as the others we’d faced, just as fast, just as strong. And there were too many. Lumerians were being cut down left and right.

“It’s day,” Rhyan said, blinking rapidly like maybe what he was seeing was a result of his injuries.

I nodded. “They’re different. They’re evolving.”

And if anything, they were more violent, more calculated. I could see it in their movements. They coordinated, plotted, and attacked together, capturing one person and handing them off to another.

I refocused on the protection spell, until I remembered.

Akadim were impervious to magic. And Rhyan had none. We had to get out of there.

But the only exit from the row we were in was full of people, all jammed together. And I was starting to lose my energy, my magic was burning through me. I couldn’t carry Rhyan, and keep the dome enforced, and fight at the same time.

“Put me down,” he croaked.

And since we couldn’t move yet, I did.

He leaned his head back against the wall, his entire body drenched with sweat. His breathing was rapid, but his chest barely rose and fell with each gasp. I pushed his hair off his forehead.

“You can’t stay with me,” he said, his eyes now on the field. On Aemon. On the akadim. “Fight.”

“I’m not leaving you,” I cried.

“Lyr, you need to. It’s okay. I’ll find you, I swear. In the next life.”

“Rhyan. I’m only going to say this one more time. So you fucking listen to me, because I am in charge. And you promised to follow the chain of command.” I pressed my forehead to his. “Rhyan My Godsdamned Hart. You’re not dying.” I gripped his cheeks in my hands, and I could feel the warmth in my chest again, feel it start to spread. “Don’t you dare give up! Swear! Swear to me right now that you’ll live!”

“I can’t,” he said, his voice cutting through the screams behind me. “I’m at your command. Always. But I can’t … break an oath. Not to you.”

“Then don’t break this one.”

“Lyr. Mekara. ” He shook his head. “ Even you can’t heal me now.”

“Anything is possible, ” I cried. “Just hold on. You’re alive. Rakame. Your soul is mine. You’re my soulmate. Mine in every way, and I do not release you.”

“How?” he asked suddenly. “How did you do this? Get here? It didn’t seem … possible.” He coughed.

“ Rakashonim, ” I said.

“Lyr.” He shook his head. “No.”

But then our row started to clear.

I swallowed and prepared to pick up Rhyan again. “We’re leaving.”

But just as I grabbed his waist, his eyes widened, and something like clarity came over him. “They’ll all turn. Like Garrett. It won’t end. They can come out in the day. They’re loyal to Moriel. We’ll be overrun. Innocent people … they’ll die. I couldn’t save him.”

“Garrett?” I asked.

He nodded. “I’m too weak to fight. But if I do this … I can make it right this time. Not just for Garrett. But for Haleika. Leander. I know it haunts you, too. You can stop it. And I … I can save you.”

An akadim growled, and started down the row coming for us.

I tossed Rhyan over my shoulder and I leapt onto the bench, climbing up to the next row, grunting with exertion. And then I laid him down and withdrew my sword, placing it in his shaking hands.

“I’m going to stop the threat,” I said. “Wait for me.” I pulled his fingers around the hilt. “Rhyan, you still know what to do with this! Use it.”

Then I leapt down to the first row and ran for the akadim. With a cry I jumped into the air, my feet kicking its chest. I launched myself back, just barely landing on my feet and brandished my sword. I could feel the pop of the protective dome ending, and a sudden feeling of whiplash and exhaustion. The Rakashonim was starting to burn through me. I’d already used more than I ever had. And I wouldn’t last much longer.

I spun on my heels and my sword sliced through the akadim’s arm.

He spat, and I drew my arm back ready to wield again. I feinted and then slashed, hitting the same spot. These beasts were smaller than the ones I was used to, but their skin was just as tough, their muscles just as thick.

He started to walk back, his red eyes boring into me. For a second, my vision blurred, and it looked like there were two of them. But then it righted itself. Only I stumbled again, the sword in my hand suddenly feeling heavy. The akadim ran and tackled me to the ground, his claws around my neck.

I screamed, feeling his nails digging into my skin, my air cut off.

I kicked and twisted my hips, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. Suddenly, he stood, still choking me, and held me up, my feet dangling on the ground. I couldn’t fight back. Couldn’t do anything.

He leapt over the gate onto the field, running with me as I kicked and punched his hands, desperately trying to get him off me. I closed my eyes, drawing on my energy and kicked. It was enough. He released me.

Another akadim came. I spat, both hands on my sword, and I ran him through. Another was nearby, ripping open the tunic of a mage. I raced for them, screaming, and managed to cut off its arm, and then I pulled my blade back, and took off its head.

More soturi were on the field now, fighting the akadim. The demons at last were beginning to retreat.

I saw the silhouette of Aemon leaving the field, the remaining demons marching behind him.

Alarms were ringing everywhere now. Warning bell on top of warning bell. But I could only assume the retreat meant one thing.

Morgana had succeeded. The vorakh had been freed.

My chest heaved, and my knees buckled, as I dropped my sword, the tip of the blade pushing into the ground. I leaned on the hilt, seeing stars, my vision darkening. There was a fire in my chest. Too much power. Too much. I was too weak. Too spent. The Rakashonim was taking its toll.

I fell to my knees.

But Rhyan was in the stands and he was waiting for me. And with everything happening, we had an opening. We could get out. I would recover, and I would heal him, and I’d find a way to restore his magic.

Thinking of him, of my love, and all we’d promised, all we had to look forward to, I got back on my feet, and I ran for the stands, my arms pumping furiously. I reached for the wall, and hoisted myself up. And then again onto the benches.

“Rhyan!” I yelled, climbing up the next row. My feet slammed down, and I reached automatically for him.

But he wasn’t there.

His blood smeared the white stone. And my cloak covered in his fluids was on the floor.

I grabbed it, my hands trembling. Underneath the cloth was the sword I’d left him.

“Rhyan!” I screamed. “RHYAN!” I picked up the sword, and climbed to the next set of benches and the next. I raced down the row, and then back, climbing the next and the next, and then I ran down again, my eyes searching, moving rapidly to every seat, every inch of floor space, every possible corner he could be tucked into.

“RHYAN!” I jumped back over the wall and into the arena. My heart hammered, the panic at full throttle now. Where was he? Where the fuck was he? “RHYAN!”

Mercurial appeared on the opposite side of the arena, leaning casually against the wall of the stadium. His body was blue. But for once, he wasn’t fully human. Instead of his beautiful face with his feline features and long hair, he had the head of a falcon.

Something shifted inside me. A memory. His old form. He used to appear that way. Popping in and out, always with the head of a falcon. I gasped, feeling a punch to my gut. And suddenly, I saw an ancient temple in ruins. And Auriel, weak and fighting against Kane. Not Kane. Shiviel.

And then my heart cracked, and my vision went blank, pushing me from the memory, back into the arena.

Mercurial watched me curiously, his falcon head snaking side to side as he stretched his neck.

Lost your lover? His voice purred into my mind.

Where is he? I demanded. I kept running. He had to be near. “RHYAN!”

I see you’ve called on Rakashonim. Again. You were warned. It’s burning through you now. Slowing you down. It killed you once before. But you risked it again. Bad girl.

Go fuck yourself , I thought. Where is he? Where the fuck is he? Tell me! Now!

He shrugged his shoulders, and held his blue hands out, his palms lifted to the darkening sky.

An akadim attack in the day. Mercurial made some kind of clicking sound, followed by a whistle in my mind. Not even back in my day did I think I’d live to see such a thing. I told you that this wasn’t your fight—this wasn’t the course to take.

Where is he!

You didn’t listen to me, my remembered Goddess. And now, you will lose everything.

He vanished.

Help me , Mercurial! I screamed in my mind. Fuck! Help me. Anyone! Asherah! Auriel! Please. Bring me to Rhyan. Bring me to Rhyan. Bring me to Rhyan. Show me where he is! Show me!

And then someone listened. Because I saw him. On the other side of the arena. He was in the arms of an akadim. Too weak to fight back. The monster bit down on his neck, a hand over his bare chest. When he pulled his claws away, a black shadow formed across Rhyan’s skin. White light emanated from Rhyan’s heart. The akadim was eating his soul.

I screamed in horror, and pulled my arm back, willing all I had left inside of me to aim true. And I threw the sword, the blade flying at the beast. I missed.

I was running before I could think, screaming, trying to scare it away. But my Rakashonim was running out. Spent.

More light poured out of Rhyan, and his head fell back, his eyes closed.

One more time. Just one more time, I had to call on Asherah. I just needed enough to get to him, to stop this.

I began to chant. And this time, the words flowed from my lips without effort, almost as if I weren’t speaking at all.

“Ani petrova rakashonim, me ka el lyrotz, dhame ra shukroya, aniam anam. Chayate me el ra shukroya. Ani petrova rakashonim!”

The fire in my heart exploded. My entire body was engulfed in flames. I was in agony as I roared Rhyan’s name, the energy burning through me. I ran forward, my arms pumping at my sides, my legs moving faster and faster, my heart pounding. Lightning flashed in the sky, thunder crashing. And then I felt that familiar tug in my stomach, and suddenly, the Katurium was gone.

I slammed down onto uneven ground, slipping and sliding forward, searching for Rhyan in front of me, my sword withdrawn, ready to slay the demon.

But he wasn’t here.

And I wasn’t in the Katurium, or even outside of it.

Sand. I was in the sand. I fell to my knees, feeling a heat I hadn’t felt in months bear down on me.

The waves of the ocean were lapping at my feet.

I stared at the horizon, the sky a thousand colors as the setting sun glowed bright red instead of gold.

No. No. No!

What was this? Was this a vision? A memory? Had I traveled on my own? Or was this just a fucking trick of Mercurial? I searched anxiously around me. The beach wasn’t too far from the Palace. I could still get back, still run. Still find him again and save him. But how? How had I gotten here?

Your Rakashonim. I warned you. Mercurial’s voice was in my mind. And then he laughed, the sound ringing and cruel.

My heart shattered.

A few yards away stood the black statue of a gryphon that stood three stories tall, watching the ocean. A statue that was unique to one country.

The Guardian of Bamaria.

I was home.