Chapter LIII. Ellery
LIII
ELLERY
WINTER
They wrought ruin around them.
A nearby hillside collapsed, dragging down the historic building upon it and exposing a cliff at the edge of the grove—if it could still be called a grove.
Only the alban tree remained, the others fallen, charred or splintered down to mangled stumps.
Whatever structures once stood in their vicinity had crumbled. Several burned.
It seemed today Ellery Caldwell would destroy every home she’d ever had.
Domenic, too, swayed with horror as he took in the decimation around them. He panted, his shirt stained with soot, the embers of his eyes aglow as—
Something snapped around her wrists and wrenched her backward.
Ellery shrieked as white branches seized her, tethering around her ankles, her stomach, her mouth, so forceful that Iskarius slipped from her grip.
The alban tree dragged her backward, and she slammed into it, gasping as the air was knocked from her lungs.
She thrashed, whimpering. But she couldn’t free herself. Iskarius lay close, so close. But she couldn’t reach it.
The earth tremored as footsteps strode toward her.
The storm shuddered as Ellery hitched her breath.
Slowly, fearfully, she looked up to the boy she loved, aiming Valmordion at her heart.