Chapter 49 #2
“Forgive me if I’m the first to say it, but you should know—you’re a terrible liar, Brand.”
He swooped down to nip her jaw. “I know. Don’t tell anyone.”
She knew the grin spreading across her face was wicked. He hadn’t realized he’d only pinned one of her hands.
“I’m—”
Her head cracked with searing pressure, a breath hissing in between her clenched teeth as she scrunched her eyes shut.
“Behold the dawn,” the Voice said, urgent, its many layers battering through her skull, “crowned in rugged black and rusted flames. Do not fear the rising ruin, do not fear the light it brings. Triumph rests there, in the palm of twilight’s acceptance. Do not fe—”
Lunara retched, the emptiness within her instant and sickening. It was like the Voice had been unwillingly ripped from her mind, that unfinished, strangled last word haunting her.
“Luna! Lunara!” Brand’s panicked voice broke through, the ringing in her ears subsiding in violent sweeps.
“Behold the dawn…” she whispered.
Lunara opened her eyes, and did.
Brand loomed above her, abject horror twisting his face, and clarity hit like a bolt of lightning. With a cry, she scrambled to her knees and shoved her hands into his hair, raking through it. “Rusted flames…” she muttered. Her fingers danced along his horns. “Rugged black…”
“Luna, what—”
She gripped the ends of them and cranked his head back, forcing him to look at her. “The crowned dawn… is… it’s you.”
“The crowned dawn?” He tried to pry her fingers away but she was frozen, her mind zig-zagging around, trying to recall every other word the Voice had ever said to her.
“Luna, are you alright? Was this the voice you told me about?”
The Voice… She… Sweet fucking Sisters, the Oracle.
She wasn’t sure her heart was pounding anymore, or if it had flown from her chest entirely. Shaking tremors worked their way over her body, breaths so shallow she was likely to pass out.
It all made sense. So much terrible sense.
“The Shadow Prophecy,” she managed. “It’s us! Shite!” Her eyes darted everywhere, searching for the words. “When twilight merges with stone’s crowned dawn… What did you say to me earlier? This most precious gift? Oh, fuck. Fuck!”
‘And something most precious is suddenly gone.’
“Gone. Why would I be gone? Is it Illamiata? Or…”
Brand gathered her hair, trying to smooth it away from her face. “Breathe. What is happening?”
“The Voice. It was the Voice! It all makes sense. This is the Shadow Prophecy happening, Brand. And you and I are named in it. She’s been trying to tell me. Trying to guide me. I was too fucking dense to see it!”
His eyes widened, fist digging into his chest where he was no doubt feeling the unshakeable certainty of what she was saying in their bond.
She knew it like she knew her own face and his, down to her shaking fucking bones. Stars and arses, how the fuck had she taken so long to realize it?!
“We have to—”
A rolling rumble shook the tower, dust falling from the rafters. Not a split-second later, a horn blasted through the air with just as much force, the long bass note vibrating beneath her.
“No.” Brand was up before she could ask what was happening. “Dress us, Luna. Now!”
She didn’t question him. Her power flung away from her, gripping the particles of their strewn clothing and wrenching them onto their bodies.
“You can’t fight in a bloody gown,” he bit out, tearing a drawer open and tossing some of his clothes her way.
“Fight?!” She switched them out, sending his gift away to the ether where it would be safe.
Sparring linens, like the ones she’d first worn when Hedda had started training her.
She shrank them to fit her frame, scrambling from the bed.
Brand was on her in a flash, yanking a belt around her waist and calling his dagger from the ether.
“Stay with her,” he hissed, and shoved it into the sheath.
She felt its power thrumming at her hip, and bile rose. It was her turn to ask, “What is happening?”
“An attack. That was the war horn.” He rolled his sleeve back with no calm whatsoever and shoved his arm to her mouth. “Freely offered. Drink. Quickly.”
Again, she obeyed without hesitation, using the time it took to sink her fangs in and partake of his gift to draw from the moons above. There was no doubting the level she should bring it to, filling the well to overflowing, until power was practically spilling from her pores.
She barely had time to heal the puncture wounds on his arm before he was dragging her to the balcony, the war horn still blowing.
“Weeping fucking Sisters.”
His words had to be her own, for there was no such thing as speaking.
The sea heaved with gargantuan bodies, slithering up from the crashing waves. Screams echoed from the city below, the twinkling lantern lights nearest the shore starting to disappear one by one.
“The sea serpents have returned.” He sounded as though he couldn’t believe his own eyes or mouth.
Shite, she couldn’t either.
Something pulled at her center as a thunderous boom sounded, her knees buckling in the aftershock.
“Brand… those aren’t sea serpents. Not entirely.” They were and they weren’t. She couldn’t see them clearly enough to tell, but she could feel it. “Those are dreadbeasts.”