Chapter 52
FIFTY-TWO
“Where are you going?” Yasen called after Rabin as they shoved through the seething crowd out of the plaza and into the streets, where they found a little more breathing room.
Even if it was still a sight of chaos.
All their somewhat tenuous plans had fallen apart. But they hadn’t lost everything yet.
The rain pelted them from above, rendering the world into grey, which felt ominously appropriate.
“We finish the plan,” Rabin said, his fist curled and his frame hunched. “That’s what she would want.”
“And then what?” Yasen asked, jogging after him.
Rabin came to a stop and peered over his shoulder, heavy, angry breaths swirling in his chest. “And then I’m going to tear apart this fucking palace to find her.”
Yasen nodded, and Rabin turned and continued walking until he found an open plaza.
“You have the papers?” Rabin asked, and Yasen nodded. They’d planned to distribute them once the prisoners had been freed, but this would have to do. “Then get on.”
Without further warning, Rabin dissolved into a puff of smoke, transforming into his dragon. Everyone within the area began screaming and running away. Rabin shook his head as his wings flapped, crushing the silver astrolabe at the center of the plaza. He lifted his head to the sky as cool rainwater sluiced over his scales.
Yasen ran and leaped onto his back before Rabin’s wings flapped. He took a step, followed by another, and then launched himself into the sky. They soared over the city, circling over the palace courtyard, where the seething mass of bodies churned like waves.
He roared, drawing everyone’s attention up. Maybe this would help snap everyone from their panic. Then he felt Yasen moving before thousands of pieces of paper floated over the air, littering Ishaan with the truth.
More screams rose up as thunder crashed overhead and lightning flashed across the sky.
The pages fluttered on the breeze like ashes scattering off a burning stake.
And from this day on, nothing in Rahajhan would ever be the same.
Zarya screamed. The sound ripped out of her in a breath of wretched agony. Dishani stood over her, glowering as she assaulted Zarya over and over again.
Pain. More and more of it as magic circled her limbs, sinking into her skin. They’d been at this for what felt like hours as the sky continued to rage and the world shrieked from every side. Desperately, she tried to reach Rabin, calling to him through her mind. But whether it was due to her dulled magic or something else, he remained frustratingly beyond her sight.
In the haze of her torment, she caught a fleeting glimpse of snow falling from the sky. Not snow. The pages they’d copied from Age of Ashes revealing the truth to the world. The vanshaj were Aazheri, and the Jadugara were built upon a smoldering heap of lies.
Zarya started laughing, verging on delirious as Dishani stopped, clearly confused by her behavior.
“What are you laughing at?” Dishani demanded and Zarya shook her head.
Her throat was raw, scraped dry by her screams. She could barely answer even if she wanted.
No matter what happened now, no matter what Dishani chose to do, the world would know the truth, and there would be no going back.
A door slammed, followed by hurried footsteps. Zarya watched as someone handed Dishani a damp piece of paper. Flurried whispers circled around the room as Dishani scanned the page. Zarya knew exactly what she was reading, and she began laughing again.
The sound drew Dishani’s attention as her nostrils flared. She crumpled the page in her fist, crushing it into a soggy ball. She hurled it to the ground, but the effect was lost as it slapped the tile and settled in a wet lump.
Slowly, Dishani approached, and Zarya looked up to see the rage in the princess’s face.
The deep-seated loathing. The anger. The fear .
Things hadn’t gone according to plan. Zarya would die under her sister’s hand, but she’d accomplished what she’d been sent into this world to do.
She’d been the catalyst. The striking point. The first step on a long road to redemption and retribution. Though she wouldn’t get the chance to witness the outcome, at least she’d been there to give people hope.
To show them anything was possible.
That good could win over evil.
Dishani held out a hand, closing it into a tight fist, and then…pain.
White noise and black static and an endless spiraling tunnel flashing with muted color and tiny pulses of wretched, mind-numbing agony.
Zarya screamed again, the sound echoing against the backdrop of a revolution that had been brewing for a thousand long, bloody years.