Chapter XVI. Ellery #2
“Caldwell. Caldwell.” When she still didn’t respond, Barrow knelt beside her. “Ellery. I know you’re scared, but we’re in this together, aren’t we? I need you to…”
Whatever else he said, Ellery scarcely heard him. Magic writhed in her, but she choked it down, nearly gagging from the effort.
Barrow’s expression hardened, grim and resolute. He stood and turned back to Decibel. And as he raced toward it, the clearing brightened with Valmordion’s radiance.
Ice crackled around Ellery’s hand, welding it to her wand. Each breath was a tiny rasp, barely able to break through the frost crusted across her lips.
Valmordion had burned Alice Rhodes alive. But Iskarius was about to freeze her solid.
And part of Ellery, a terrible, selfish part, reached for the death it could give her. It would be so easy to fade into oblivion. There would be no more pain. No more terror.
But as her limbs went numb, as her lungs stiffened in her chest, she knew, she knew: she had to live. Maybe she didn’t have proof of the prophecy yet, but she could no longer deny the unshakable feeling that she’d first had in the Citadel grove. That they truly were in this together.
Ellery’s gaze snapped to Iskarius, its glowing silver core, its hilt majestic and thorn-studded, engraved with her fingerprint and hers alone. She stopped fighting her power. Instead, she reached for it.
Instantly the gashes on her hand began to close, until the throbbing pain in her palm ceased. Awe rose in her, and with it came a rustling wind, a discordant whisper:
join an old legacy to a new fate
uncover the tangled roots of the past
Ellery clambered to her feet. Tears spilled down her cheeks and dribbled onto her chin, but she paid them no mind.
“Domenic!” she called.
He whirled around, and at the sight of her, his expression slackened with relief. “You’re up.”
“I’m with you. And I’m not going anywhere.”
Another row of spikes rocketed toward them at an impossible velocity. Cool silver light erupted from Iskarius’s tip. Beside her, Valmordion blazed with a matching gold.
Their combined spells met the spikes in a great explosion. Ellery gasped from the force of it, then reeled away, instinctively bracing her back against Domenic’s. She could feel each shudder of his breath, his form strong and reassuring against her shoulder blades.
Before Decibel could conjure another attack, Ellery raised Iskarius, magic already crackling across its thorns.
Again, the ghast vanished.
“That thing is playing with us,” Domenic groaned. “How the hell are we supposed to hurt it if it keeps disappearing?”
“We need to outwit it,” Ellery said. “Does nature magic actually hurt it?”
“Well, it definitely didn’t like my fire. It’s more of a matter of getting through its illusions to land a hit.”
Ellery’s heartbeat hammered with the rhythm she’d never wanted to hear, the pull she’d never wanted to heed.
“If I concentrate, I can hear Decibel’s heartbeat. I think it’s a Winter magic thing, and it might make me able to track it. If I can, I’ll break its cloaking spell.”
Ellery readied herself for Domenic’s unease about her magic bearing any connection to the monster. But he only nodded.
“Then you find it. And I’ll take it down.”
“Perfect.” She grasped Iskarius with both hands.
Sounds sharpened; colors muted. Ellery caught the smallest of details: glimmers of frost in her exhales; blades of frozen grass crunching beneath her feet. Power spilled from her as the world melted into a harsh chiaroscuro.
She heard it then, faint but unmistakable. A thud inside her chest, beside her own. Another heartbeat. Another source of Winter magic.
A silver outline shimmered to their right, studded with spikes.
“Found it,” she said triumphantly, then tore apart the monster’s cloaking enchantment as easily as paper.
The ghast let out a whine of panicked static as it reappeared. Its spikes glinted; its eyes rolled wildly, blue beams darting like searchlights through the clearing.
Immediately, a ray like a solar flare detonated from Valmordion and lanced through the monster’s chest. Decibel collapsed, writhing and howling as it melted from within.
Throughout the clearing, snow dissolved from Valmordion’s heat.
Yet even as Domenic’s arms trembled from exertion, the spell never diminished, only strengthened.
Until at last, Decibel was gone.
Domenic lowered Valmordion and braced his hands on his knees, cursing with every heaving breath.
“We’re not dead,” Ellery croaked, sheathing Iskarius.
“Speak for … yourself,” Domenic panted. “I might … keel over here.” Yet the moment he straightened, he laughed. “Fuck, we really pulled it off.”
Ellery laughed too, spinning dizzily as she basked in the sunlight that seemed to drench them both, dreamlike. There was no more dread. No more fear.
“The Council will have to take us seriously when they hear about this,” Domenic babbled. “I mean, poking around the Barren might’ve not gone down exactly the way we thought, but if the superstitions about the Dire Three are real, then maybe they’re what will lead us to the next prophecy piece—”
“I already have the next prophecy piece.”
Domenic balked. “You … really?”
“Yes.” Ellery craned her neck up at him, grinning. “I heard it during the fight. I-I guess that means, um…”
Her throat clogged, and she sniffled. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried because she was happy.
“You—we—were right,” she told Domenic. “I’m a Chosen One. We both are.”
With a delirious, victorious holler, Domenic pulled her into a hug.
Ellery gasped at the suddenness of it, of him.
His arms folded tightly around her back.
Her face pressed against his chest. His touch felt familiar, as though they’d known each other for years instead of days.
An incredulous giddiness bubbled in her as she wrapped her arms around him, too, and as they leaned in to each other, his fingers brushed against the back of her neck.
Immediately, Ellery’s magic roared in response.
As if it had been utterly diverted to this one point in the universe, to the pads of his fingertips against her skin.
They broke away from each other, gasping.
Heat radiated down her back. Her stunned expression mirrored his own.
“I…” Domenic’s mouth hung open, but he seemed to have forgotten how to speak.
Ellery flushed and wiped away a final stray tear, searching desperately for something to say. Her gaze settled on an odd rock behind him. It shimmered blue amid the debris of the fight, like a gemstone.
“What’s that?” she asked, hastily changing the subject.
Looking similarly relieved, Domenic turned. “Is that from the winterghast?”
“I don’t know.” Ellery walked over and knelt beside it.
It was about the size of her fist, unnaturally smooth and spherical, glowing with a faint cerulean sheen that reminded her of Decibel’s eyes.
She drew Iskarius and pointed it at it, just in case.
“There’s nothing left of ghasts after they’re destroyed.
But you knew this one was different. How have you heard of Decibel before? ”
“From some NDC superstitions. So, get this…” Domenic explained what he’d learned about the so-called Dire Three, finishing with, “But the rookies never mentioned them leaving pieces behind. I don’t think any of them have ever been defeated.”
Ellery tentatively touched the stone. It was cold, but seemingly harmless. She rose, clutching it.
“We should probably take it with us,” Domenic said. “The Council will want to see it.”
Ellery’s excitement ebbed, reality flooding back in. “Oh. The Council.”
“Hey, we’ve got our proof now,” Domenic said firmly. “They have to believe us.”
Ellery swallowed. “I really hope you’re right.”