57. Keldarion
Keldarion
I’ve fought beside Ezryn thousands of times, but we’ve never fought enemies like this before. The baron towers above us, glowing and unnatural. His massive broadsword seems to arc across the entire cavern with each swing.
And beside him fights Caspian.
No. Not Caspian. Not really.
The Prince of Thorns comes at me with wild, brutal precision, green fire streaking off every motion. His blade is swift, his strikes sharper than I’ve ever seen. But his movements are too clean. Too perfect.
He’s not fighting like Cas.
He’s fighting like a puppet.
The baron must be watching me, because a cruel smirk crawls across his too-perfect face. One that’s becoming more material by the second. Come on, Rose.
“Let him go, Winter Prince,” the Baron says. “There is no Caspian. Not anymore.”
I snarl and drive my blade toward his chest. He blocks it with a lazy flick of his monstrous sword.
Caspian lunges past him, slashing straight for my ribs.
I dodge too slow.
The blade scrapes my side, burning cold where it cuts. I stumble, and Ezryn catches me, planting his feet and swinging his hammer in a wide arc, keeping the Baron back for a breath.
“We’re losing ground,” he mutters.
I grunt. “Noticed.”
Across the cavern, I see Rosalina, her hands bloodied from trying to break the black stones, her briars coiled tight around them. But they won’t move. Her mother still hangs in those cursed chains, her light growing dimmer.
And on the far side of the chamber, Farron and Dayton.
They’ve unlocked Justus’s ancient memory as well. Day shines in brilliant teal with Farron beside him, his Autumn armor burning bright. Together, they fight Sira in perfect rhythm, pushing her back step by step.
And for the first time, I believe we can win this right here, right now.
Ezryn shouts, leaping into the air and slamming his hammer into the Baron’s side with a crack of sound that shakes the cavern. The monster stumbles, only for a heartbeat, but it’s enough.
I run.
Straight at Caspian.
He turns as I slam into him, and we crash to the floor. I land on top, pinning him, breath heaving. His sword skitters out of reach.
I press my forearm to his throat, then freeze.
Because his eyes aren’t glowing. They’re as lavender as the dawn. But terrified.
“Kel,” he chokes. “I can’t—I can’t fight it. It’s in me. And he’s here. He’s here. Always has been.”
I drop my blade. My hands move to his face, cupping it gently. I kiss him.
He mutters something against my lips, broken and raspy. “I can’t fight the Green Flame, Kel. I can’t keep it caged anymore.”
“You’re not meant to fight it,” I growl. “You’re meant to tame it.”