Wings of Starlight

21

T hey set out for the Hall of Winter, carving their path through knee-deep snow and dark thickets of trees. On foot, it was maddeningly slow going. The blizzard raged on, all lashing snow and rending winds. Ice scraped against the exposed skin on her face, and cold, as sharp as a blade, slipped into her very bones. Clarion did not know if the weather was the influence of the Nightmares, or Winter itself howling its battle cry.

“It’s not too much farther now,” she called back to Artemis and Petra.

How she hoped that was true. It was difficult to tell where, exactly, they were going. But the sound of skirmishes reached her: shouts and roars made distant as the storm snatched them away. Although she could see and hear little, the Nightmares’ power lingered like a low-hanging fog. It slithered over her skin, setting her every nerve alight with dread.

Here and there, she caught glimpses of Nightmares flying overhead: skeins of writhing shadow blotting out even the darkness of the clouds. They took no notice of the trio as they doggedly pursued the fleeing winter fairies. Panic constricted Clarion’s chest.

She sent up a silent wish to the stars: Let them fly fast.

It had been a mistake, Clarion thought, to let Milori forge ahead alone.

By the time she spied the Hall of Winter—its ice-hewn doors gleaming with the soft blue light of its runes—she was burning with anticipation. They stood at the top of a hill, staring down into the bowl of the valley where the Hall was carved into the mountainside. From here, Clarion could see the chaos unfolding before her.

The Hall of Winter was completely besieged by Nightmares.

Scouts ushered terrified fairies inside the cracked-open doors, doing their best to manage the frantic press of the crowd. Another group soared through the air, goading on the Nightmares as they lured them away from the Hall. And there, at the center of it all, surrounded by a phalanx of scouts, was Milori.

Her heart leapt as admiration and relief tangled together within her. She had never seen him move like this, with an efficient, ruthless grace. He unleashed blasts of sheer cold, the air bristling with ice crystals as it froze Nightmares mid-strike. The beasts jittered and raged beneath the frost, threatening to break free, and more still descended from the skies.

For now, they were holding. How long could they fend them off?

Artemis reloaded her bow. Her dark eyes glittered as she scanned the scene below them. “There’s so many of them.”

Clarion understood clearly what she’d left unsaid: Too many.

“We only need to hold them off until daybreak. They’ll need to hide from the sunlight.”

But daybreak was still hours away.

The runes etched in the Hall of Winter’s doors shimmered as a Nightmare struck the ice. The protective wards were powerful, but against an onslaught of monsters…

“Until daybreak, then,” Artemis said, her expression cool and undaunted. “Your orders?”

“Cover me. I’m going to the doors. After that, help the scouts keep the Nightmares occupied. Don’t do anything risky.” When Artemis gave her a wry half smile, Clarion added, “Just stay alive.”

They charged forward, into the fray. Her friends flanked her: Petra, her red hair trailing behind her like a comet; Artemis, her lips pulled back in a feral snarl.

Here in the valley, the oppressive atmosphere was as unbearable as it had been at the prison. All the negativity the Nightmares exuded pressed down on them like a smothering hand. Cold sweat prickled on the back of her neck, and the stale tang of fear burned at the back of her throat. All around them, Nightmares rippled like swaths of dark, tattered fabric. Scouts sailed past, their haunted expressions made skeletal in the orange light of their own glows.

The hordes were seemingly endless. Nightmares peeled off from the shadows and materialized out of the snowfall like wraiths. Together, Clarion and her friends picked off the Nightmares that drifted into their path. They fell to arrows and starlight. Under the heat of Clarion’s magic, some of them began to disintegrate, but they skittered toward the shadow of the woods.

Cowards, she thought.

Out of the veil of snow, a dark shape appeared. A deer loomed behind Artemis, its antlers dripping with shadowy venom.

“Artemis!” Clarion shouted.

Artemis jerked in surprise. On reflex, she unsheathed her sword and stabbed into the beast’s leg. Its form rippled like water as the blade passed harmlessly through it. Slowly, the shadows of its flesh solidified around her weapon and wrenched it away from her. As its hoof came down to dash her against the ground, Artemis dodged with only the softest intake of breath. A second blade materialized in her hand. She was twirling it through her fingers, preparing to swipe at the deer again, when Petra skewered it with an arrow blazing bright with pixie dust. The deer bellowed, staggering away from them as oily blood poured from its wound.

“Thanks,” Artemis said gruffly.

That had been too close for comfort.

Clarion studied the two of them. A thin line of scarlet had opened across Artemis’s cheek, and while Petra looked calm, her arm was trembling from supporting the weight of her bow. Even Clarion felt exhausted, with her magic fizzling within her.

“Go,” Petra said. “Don’t worry about us.”

Reluctantly, Clarion nodded. She ran toward the Hall of Winter. Through the clamor and seething of battle, she found her true north: Milori.

A group of Nightmares burst forth from the blizzard, descending on her. She stumbled backward, nearly tripping over her own feet. Without thinking, she threw her hand out, unleashing a bolt of starlight. The beasts reeled back from her power, contorting themselves to avoid being burned. By the time they scattered, she was panting heavily with exertion. She did not know how long she could keep this up.

“The queen is here!” a scout shouted from overhead. “Fight on!”

Rallying cries broke out through the valley. Clarion looked down at her trembling hands before curling them into fists. Her power was a symbol of hope. Right now, maybe that was all they needed.

Clarion sprinted the rest of the way to the Hall of Winter, unleashing another beam of starlight at a Nightmare readying itself to lunge at Milori. It was knocked aside, screeching in anguish. He whirled toward her, shock and gratitude plain on his face.

She rushed to his side, and in the brief lull, she took stock of him. “You’re all right.”

His fingers skirted along her jawline, just for a moment, before his hand fell back to his side. “As are you.”

She had no time to reply, for the Nightmares she’d disoriented had recovered. They prowled closer, their low growls and the clacking of their talons against the ice echoing off the mountainside. Clearly, they hesitated to draw too near to her. None of them had regained their forms completely. Some slunk haltingly toward them; others rose like wildfire smoke and encircled them, swathing them in a veil of darkness.

Clarion and Milori exchanged looks before pressing their backs together. Frost swirled around him as gold pooled in her palms. As the Nightmares lashed out at them, they fell into the rhythm of battle. She wielded her magic like knives, slicing through the Nightmares as they lashed out. They offered little resistance against her; her light sheared effortlessly through the darkness. But she’d never drawn so much on her power; with every beast she felled, the more she faltered.

One in the shape of a rat struck her with its tail, and she was knocked hard against the mountainside. Her breath escaped her in a rush, and white exploded across her vision. She recovered just as a blast of ice knocked it away from her.

Milori pulled her to her feet and did not let go. His eyes were wild with concern, and his fingers curled urgently around her forearm. “You’ve done enough, Clarion. You should go inside.”

“No,” she forced out through gritted teeth. “I can keep fighting. We have to hold them off until daybreak.”

There was something almost resigned glimmering within his eyes. Clarion saw the truth there: he did not expect to last until dawn, but he did not intend to stand down. A knot of emotion pulled taut within her. She could not deny it looked hopeless. Carried by the storm raging behind them, more and more Nightmares were pouring in.

Clarion rested her hand atop his and held his gaze. “I’m not leaving you. You can’t ask that of me.”

She saw the moment his restraint gave way. His expression crumpled, and for one torturous moment, he leaned his forehead against hers. Quietly, he said, “We’ve evacuated as many as we can. We should recall everyone still outside and prepare to make our final stand.”

Final stand. Those words sent a shudder through her. Nevertheless, she nodded. “You get the scouts. I’ll find Artemis and Petra to make sure they make it back on foot.”

He took to the skies, shouting the retreat order. Clarion searched for her friends in the chaos. Eventually, she spotted Artemis and Petra locked in battle with a Nightmare-bobcat.

She darted across the field toward them. The shrieks of Nightmares filled her ears. She dropped into a roll as something sprung at her. A bolt of gold soared down her arm and knocked it back. Her heart in her throat, she scrambled to her feet—just in time to see the beast sink its teeth deep into Artemis’s shin. Artemis screamed in agony. It shook its head viciously, thrashing her; Artemis’s body snapped back and forth like a rag doll.

“Artemis!” Petra shouted.

She sent an arrow flying toward it; it narrowly missed its shoulder. The bobcat swiveled toward Petra. Petra’s eyes were wide and glassy with fear.

A Nightmare-bat swooped toward Clarion. She gathered starlight in her hand and shot it down—only for another to pull her down to the ground. The monster pinned her beneath its weight. She struggled wildly for a moment before magic erupted from her. The beast wheeled backward, freeing her from its crushing grip. Clarion crawled forward before hauling herself back to her feet. Her bones ached. She’d cut into her own lip with her teeth. Her hands trembled too much to channel magic in anything but spurts. But she could not stop.

A short distance away, she saw the faintest glimmer of pixie dust falling out of the sky: another one lost. It sent a wave of agony through her, but there was nothing Clarion could do for them now. She could focus only on Artemis, her face gone ghostly pale and glistening faintly with sweat, her leg crunched into an odd angle—and gleaming bright, visceral red.

The Nightmare-bobcat had advanced toward Petra. Venom coated its claws, gleaming violet in the darkness. As Petra struggled to nock another arrow into the bow, the Nightmare swiped at her. She went soaring, then slammed into the trunk of a tree. A sickening crack split the silence. Her weapon clattered to the ground and skidded across the ice, far out of her reach. Petra lay very still, her red hair splayed out in the snow like a bloodstain. Her eyes were closed and her face was fixed in a mask of horror.

Entrapped in the Nightmares’ spell.

No, Clarion thought. No, no, no.

How many fairies had fallen today? How many more would? She’d lost so many. And now, she’d lost Petra.

The force of her emotion tore through her, then exploded outward in a blinding arc of light. Her magic reflected off all the ice and snow until the valley was as bright as day in the dead of night. All the beasts swarming the Hall of Winter howled in agony. It was almost pitiful, how they scrabbled to escape. They writhed and contorted themselves into a thousand different shapes, desperate to be free of the ruthless illumination of her power.

Within its splendor, all the Nightmares were revealed: small and cowering and pathetic, exposed for the small things they were. Magic poured out of her relentlessly, incinerating them. When the light finally faded, wind sighed through the valley. What remained of the Nightmares scattered, carried through the air like grains of black sand.

And Clarion collapsed onto her knees.