Chapter 54
Elorie
The first time I called upon my magic, it was an overwhelming source of light pummeling through me. Opening my heart to it now, I realize it’s finer. Fickle. It is stardust. Flecked between everything from the ground up to the night sky.
It is all around.
It is the arrow that flies through the air.
It is the air itself.
Like aether, but different. It is not the essence of all things. It is the creation from nothing. As Lady Reah said, to make anything, you must unmake something else.
Resurrecting Wilder wasn’t me pulling him back from death.
I unmade his fate and recrafted it. Clasping my magic around the arrow, I don’t focus on the wood or the metal or the tether holding it all together.
I tangle my fingers in the threads, and I pull them apart.
I break them into the aether they once were.
To dust that dances with my mate’s magic as he collapses to a knee on the ground.
The arrow is nothing more than sparks of something that once existed and no longer does as it blows away. As it ceases to exist while Wilder’s skin stitches back together.
He looks up at me. His golden eyes shine—the most beautiful male I’ve ever seen.
“That’s three lives I owe you now.” He smirks.
“Then stop trying to die for me.”
“Never.” Wilder lifts, grabbing my chin.
His lips find mine while the battle rages, and he sends out a shockwave of death that takes out the next wave of the oncoming army.
He’s a weapon carved on the battlefield.
Honed for destruction. Wielding the magic of Davorian, the god of endings.
And he continues to sacrifice himself for me. Like he would a hundred times over.
“More than that,” he whispers.
Wilder tugs me close as a shockwave rattles the ground at our feet. The stone begins to quake.
At the edge of the courtyard, a vine shoots up through the ground.
Then another. They twist and bend, weaving around each other.
Leaves spit from their branches. Lush and large and dewy as the vines from the vision King Malachi showed us.
Quickly, an Arch creates itself out of nowhere and is grander than I ever could have imagined.
Looking to the ground, I realize it grew in the spot Wilder dropped that single seed. The seed of an Arch.
“Impossible.” Gasps come from all around as the Arch begins to churn.
The fresh breeze that creeps through the courtyard isn’t that of honeysuckle. It’s woodsy and sweet. Pine and rain. From another place.
Vaelier.
Three figures step out of the Arch as if they were on the other side, waiting.
Wilder has been planning this all along.
Backup, he called it. I thought it was impossible to wake an Arch when most have died, but with the surge of magic, it must have found the strength to open.
The question is, how strong is the tie on the other end?
An army swarms out behind the three figures, and the soldiers immediately start holding a line against the Crown Guard while the three Fae in front aim for Wilder.
“I thought you were dead.” A female with orange-red curls throws herself at Wilder. Her freckles are brightened by her pink cheeks, but it’s her purple eyes I can’t stop staring at. They stand out from her pale skin.
“Your brother knew I was alive.” He angles his head to the red-haired warrior at her right.
The guard from the palace. The one who has been bringing me food and keeping an eye on me. This week, he’s been the only one allowed to breach the barrier around my room.
“Atlas, Perame.” Wilder motions to the two red-haired warriors, introducing them as the twins he told me about. Then his attention moves to the third. “And this is Rior.”
Rior doesn’t share the same warm greeting as the others. His dark-brown eyes are ringed with gold, and they’re focused on the battle ahead. His black hair is shaved close to his scalp, drawing out his strong cheekbones. His ebony skin glows with his magic.
Wilder has been in the Ley Court, surrounded by enemies. But this group—even Rior, who stands at a distance—is his court. His friends.
“Is this her?” Perame smiles at me.
“This is Elorie—” Wilder’s introduction is cut off by the clash of metal meeting a burst of magic.
“We need to get you out of here while the Arch is open.” Rior’s jaw sets.
“I’m not leaving Selia.”
Rior doesn’t seem thrilled by Wilder’s declaration. And while Selia hasn’t been friendly with me, I understand his need to get his sister away from Malachi.
A storm cloud brews overhead, blanketing the stars and the moon in darkness.
At the king’s side is Selia with her palms up to the sky.
Lightning brews as Malachi opens his eyes, focusing his attention on the light.
But instead of amplifying it, he strips it away, pulling a sheet from the palace in one sweep.
Darkness descends until the only light in the Ley Court is him.
The facade falls, revealing the true state of the palace and the struggling forest around it.
It’s all been a carefully crafted mask to keep his people at bay. He’s let them drown in opulence, oblivious to the true health of the realm.
Only now do I see the Ley Court for what it is. A desiccated land feeding on itself.
While there are places in Lyrichia that are still blooming—where the trees are lush, and the mountain snow is fresh and flecked with magic—this is not one of them.
Around us, the walls are broken and crumbling. Vegetation struggles. At its center is a king with light flowing into him instead of out as he drains its power. He drinks the magic from the Ley Court, harnessing the fullness of what grows within himself.
Like the Well, he absorbs every bit of magic flung at him. But unlike the Well, there is no cutting him off. Not with whatever dangles from his neck.
If I could just get there.
“Don’t even think it.” Wilder cuts me a glare. “We don’t know what the orb is, much less what it will do with us.”
Wilder is right. I have no idea what the source of the orb’s power is or what destruction it can cause.
The ground shakes as King Malachi meets my gaze, and the trees crack. It’s a deafening sound that echoes through the entire forest. The ground groans, ripping apart the stone. The splinter cuts so close to the Arch it flickers.
Rior swings his sword, hard and fast, planting it in a guard’s stomach. He shoves the guard to the ground, which opens up and swallows him whole.
“Rior is a core wielder,” Perame leans in to explain when my eyes widen.
“We need to get back through the Arch before it collapses.” Atlas fights at Rior’s side, protecting their king.
Their king.
I look up at him, and it sinks in. I’ve always known he’s the king of Vaelier, but to see his court surrounding him—protecting him—offers a different view.
Two guards come at Wilder from behind, and he wraps aether around their throats, tightening until they collapse.
“Keep the path to the Arch clear while I get my sister.” He snatches another guard off his feet, turning him to dust.
“The only way to Selia is through Hazel.” Callum stops at my side.
Greer wipes blood off her forehead with the back of her hand. We’re outnumbered fifty to one, and the strength of our magic is all that is keeping us standing, but that will deplete if the Crown Guard continues to multiply. Not to mention, whatever the king is doing with the orb.
“I’ll distract Hazel,” I decide.
“No—”
“I’m the only one who can.” I cut Wilder off. “She’s going to either focus on you or me, and if it’s you, then you can’t get to Selia. Let me help.”
“Feisty.” Perame nudges my arm, but Greer glares at her, so she holds up her hands, spinning daggers in both. “I like it.”
Greer doesn’t take her eyes off Perame. She watches all of them.
Wilder grabs my chin, tilting my face to his. “Stay alive.”
“I’ll try.”
“Gods, you’re trouble, Starfire.” He steals a kiss. “But you’re mine.”
Wilder stands tall, directing his court before I have the chance to say anything back to him.
There’s no time as the courtyard starts to crumble.
A few of the guards have turned on the others, clearly not liking what they heard from their king.
They battle alongside the Vaelier soldiers that made it through the Arch before it started to flicker.
A wall of Rior’s magic mixed with Callum’s is all that holds back the new wave.
I turn to Callum and Greer. “I’m going to distract Hazel.”
“Do you have a death wish?” Greer glares at me.
“She can only hurt me if her magic can get to me.” I flex my fingers. “I won’t let her get close.”
I wait for Greer to try to talk me out of it. The chances of going toe-to-toe with Hazel and winning are slim. But she doesn’t.
“Gods.” Greer shrugs off her shoulder guard. It’s cracked and stained in blood. She unsheathes her blade, spinning it around when her gaze cuts toward Wilder and his court, snagging on Atlas. “What are you looking at?”
“Something gods damn beautiful.” He winks, and Rior shoves his arm, pulling his attention back to what Wilder is telling them.
“Damn Vaelier warriors. Insufferable,” Greer grumbles. “Let’s go.”
The ground quivers as we step forward. Selia is busy with a group of Vaelier soldiers coming at the king from the other side. But Hazel’s attention is on me the moment I’m in her line of sight.
She spins her fingers through the air, letting black whisps float on the wind.
“Your magic has grown, Elorie.” A dark cloud brews around her, raining down and collecting at her feet. “You’re still not strong enough to take me on though.”
“We’ll see.” I smirk.
She sends a rush of shadow through the space between us, and Callum and Greer step back to avoid being hit.
But I raise my hands, palms up, throwing out a wave of starlight.
A steady stream that barrels out of my fingers.
It pours from my chest in a steady flow, but it does nothing against her shadows.
They continue to surround me, collecting my magic like she’s drinking it from the source.
Flexing my wrists, I spill a little more, and it chokes her back a step.
“You’re learning.” She smiles, the shadows crawling all the way up her arms—her neck.
A spiderweb of black threads covers her pale skin until her eyes turn black, and she barrels into her magic again. When it flows out this time, it’s a wave that knocks the air from my chest.
I fight off the drain by feeding it. Pulling from the sky above. There is no limit, and yet, I feel myself butting up against one within me. My head swims as the snakes of her darkness start to creep their way in.
They slither through the holes in my magic and start to whisper.
“There you are.” A voice tickles my ear.
But it’s not Wilder. It’s nothing I’ve ever heard. It’s Hazel’s magic spilling out, speaking to me.
“I knew we’d find you.”
I stumble back just a step, but it’s enough for her to edge in a little farther.
At my side, Greer fights off the guards who break through.
Hazel takes advantage of my slip. Her shade wraps around me.
It cloaks something in my chest, dulling my magic.
Her shadowy fingers reach out, and even if she’s still feet away, I feel them wrapping around my wrists, pulling me farther from myself.
“Found you,” it whispers in my ear. “We knew we’d find you.”
I try to shake it loose, but it crawls around in my head. It licks at my memories like it’s searching for someone. I lose all focus, drawing my fingers to my hair like I can scratch it out. Hazel seizes the moment, taking full control, wrapping her magic around me.
Panic swells, and I can’t tell if it’s Wilder’s or mine as I flail to break free.
Greer cuts at the weaving snakes of darkness, but it does nothing. They continue to come for me.
Eat at me.
Drink me.
Until it suddenly stops.
My head quiets, the darkness shrinks back in on itself. I shake my hair off my shoulders, and there are still goose bumps prickling my skin, but Hazel’s magic is gone.
I look up to see what happened and freeze when I spot Callum.
He’s standing behind Hazel, his hair blowing with the breeze. One hand is at her throat, and the other is on her arm.
He’s touching her, taking her magic for me.
I take a step forward but then falter, watching as her shadows shrink back in. Hazel’s fingers find the back of Callum’s hand, and they crawl over his skin, but he doesn’t flinch. His magic doesn’t so much as flicker.
Her dark eyes meet his, and the air pauses. If it weren’t for the fighting around us, I’d swear time froze.
Callum holds onto Hazel, countering her magic? Or accepting it?
“How?” Greer stops at my side.
“I don’t know.”