64. Sybilla
Chapter 64
Sybilla
T he Origin of Death stood with his arms outstretched, atop a podium high above the pit—an orchestrator of chaos, the bringer of doom.
“Come out, little Isleen. You can stop this!” he boomed. All of this pain, all of this suffering, and for what? For unrequited love, for envy, for greed?
He’d lured me here.
I’d bite.
Isleen’s wings beat back the putrid amber smoke that clouded the arena floor. Through the dust, I could make out dark vines in the pit below—barbed and violent.
“Krait!” I called out. When the dust cleared some, I saw him; his arms were stiffly outstretched, matching Caym’s position. Dark tendrils were wrapped around Asterie, Hurley and Wyeth. They’d snared Emmerick’s and Firose’s ankles too. “Stop, Krait!”
“You can stop him…You know how,” Caym yelled. “Let’s make a bargain…”
Between the swarming Moirai and Krait’s Shadows, my friends were doomed. A lump grew in my throat.
I contemplated his words. I could give him what he wanted. Me.
“We do not bargain with Death,” Isleen hissed below me.
Sunlight and fire flashed below as Fenris and Amara fought into the arena, cutting down the Moirai, trying to get to their loved ones.
It all needed to stop before any of them were harmed.
The shriek of a Griffith pierced the air, and an East Corridor fleet joined Isleen’s children in fighting for the city beyond the walls of the amphitheater. I could hear Cassidee, shouting orders.
The way to end this today stood up on that podium.
“You told me not to fail,” I shouted to Isleen. “You know where to go.”
The beating of her feathered wings thundered. Caym stood, staring with an intent gaze down at the arena, a cowardly fucking puppeteer. Rage spurred me to grip Isolde’s sword tighter at my side.
As we descended, Ryn floated, levitating up through the amber smoke toward Caym’s podium. His form glowed brilliant white against the night sky.
“ Ryn, stand down!” I tried to scream into his mind.
He either did not hear me or wished not to. Elsedora had almost scaled the wall. Her boots were about to hit the podium behind Caym. The two of them would get themselves...
A bright white crescent-shaped light collected in Ryn’s palms. All light pulled to him, eclipsing us in complete darkness.
My mouth hung open.
He looked beautiful—illuminated.
“Hurry!” I yelled.
Isleen’s wings beat faster as we approached the podium, but even she seemed to be struggling to see through the glare emitted by my Moon-wielding friend.
Ryn aimed and released his power—the crescent moon left his palm in a spinning white beam toward the Death Origin.
But amber smoke formed a helix around Caym; he strained with a scowl. The light refracted off the shield. Elsedora ducked, and the beam slammed into the amphitheater’s walls, missing her by a hair. Marble crumbled, cascading down into the pit.
“Stand down, Ryn!” Tears streaked my cheeks. Isleen lowered, opening her mouth as though she would spit fire. “No!” I commanded her. Not with my friends in the way.
“At all costs,” Isleen hummed the horrid reminder.
My Moon-wielding friend readied another orb of light. El stood on the marble slab of the podium with a throwing dagger aimed and ready to leave her fingertips.
Ryn glanced over Caym’s shoulder at Elsedora.
In the moment of distraction, Caym raised his arms again.
Ryn needed to move, to run.
Amber smoke snaked rapidly from Caym’s fingertips.
“Ryn! No!” I screamed, clinging to Isleen’s scales, the sword hanging in my tired hand as I watched in horror.
The tendrils grasped Ryn’s arms first, his flesh rotting as the smoke snaked up his torso.
I choked on a sob. In a single breath, Ryn was dust. His ashes were blown away and carried over the amphitheater walls into the streets of Sahlmsara.
Elsedora’s scream erupted in an unnatural gust of wind.
She did hold Source power…
Isleen’s wings were caught in the gale, blowing her backward. I sobbed and held on tightly to her scales.
The wind had knocked Caym forward. His eyes widened as he tumbled down into the pit with a sharp bellow.
Elsedora’s outcry had blown away all the smoke from the arena below. My heart seized when I saw Krait’s arms were still outstretched—his Shadows wrapped around the others.
Everything had gone to shit so quickly.
My friends were dying. One was dead.
Caym was one step closer to overtaking the realms.
He would not stop until he saw both realms fall. He would not stop until he saw all of my friends turn to dust before me.
Then he’d take me anyway.
Caym had hit the sand below, and now lay there, splayed on his back.
“Stop!” I yelled to Isleen. She flapped hard once, halting us in midair. I wished for my bow and arrow—there was a clean shot to the bastard’s heart from this angle. Drawing near would give him time to rebuff any attack or compel me.
Holding Isolde’s sword tight, I chose the next best option to an arrow.
I glanced at Krait, sending a silent goodbye.
“We don’t fail. For Freya, for Ryn, for my mother...”
I slipped from Isleen’s back, plummeting down, sword first, without giving myself time to think about the height.
It felt like miles as I took aim.
The wind pulled at my cheeks.
Caym stared up and raised his hands—too late, fucker. You can’t compel a person to stop falling.
The sword pierced his chest.
Caym erupted in a flash of amber.
The force of his energy threw me back. I tumbled sideways through the air before hitting a solid marble wall. My vision faded as the putrid smell of Death filled the air and a smooth, deep voice shouted, “Sybilla!”