Chapter 22
Soren sank to her knees as the memory faded, the cruel vision disappearing like smoke in her hands, but the damage was done.
Now, she knew the truth.
She wanted nothing to do with it. There was enough chaos, enough heartbreak in her life without the knowledge of what her soul had already endured. Vane was a tether to that pain, and she could not give him what he wanted.
Her.
Sora, the only daughter of Nyx and Thanatos. A brave young goddess—his wife.
She was none of those things. She was simply Soren, a slave-servant from Mise who had been thrust into a mortal war.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I can’t do this. You…I think you should go. Tell the commander I need someone else to train me. Please.”
Vane, who was on his knees too now, ran a hand over his face. “I wish it were that simple, that I could give you what you ask. Because I would go, if that's what you truly wanted and I had the freedom to do so. But we are both bound to this war, down to its very core.”
“How—”
She was interrupted by the sound of a gong ringing through the camp. Vane swore softly next to her, his eyes on the horizon.
“What is that?”
He stood, scanning the area. “It’s a warning. They’re coming.”
“Here? But they all said Mise was pushed back to their border—”
“Could be rebels from within our forces,” he said, throat working.
He crouched, hands on her shoulders as he said quickly, “The commander will require you to fight now. I know we haven’t had much time to prepare, but Soren…
” He put a hand to her cheek. “Despite what I’ve just told you, despite the fear you might feel or the allegiances you might want to uphold—do not hesitate.
Your enemies will see it right away and take advantage of it. ”
“They’re not my enemies—”
“It doesn’t matter what you think. They see you as such and will be after you. This camp was likely targeted because word of you and Thessilnn reached them.”
She shoved him off. “I don’t care.”
He shut his eyes briefly then pulled the dagger from his hair, letting it fall in his face as he handed it to her. She set her jaw, even as he said in a raw voice, “I can’t lose you again, but I cannot protect you alone. I am bound to other roles. Please, Sora.”
She snatched the dagger from his hand, its weight unfamiliar in her hand. “That’s not my name,” she snapped before turning and running to where Thessa waited.
He is right, you know.
Soren glared at her before mounting the saddle. How could you not tell me?
It was not my place and you were not ready. Clearly, you are still not ready. The timing of this attack is unfortunate.
Really?
Thessa shuffled her wings, readying to take off. You may not want to, but listen to Vane. You cannot hesitate today. These attackers have wyverns.
How do you—
But Soren didn’t need further clarification as she heard a shrill cry in the distance. Thessa took to the air, and Soren gasped as she saw the forces approaching the camp. There were more than enough to overtake everyone here, as well as five wyverns now circling the camp.
Soren stiffened as they noticed her, their riders shouting and pointing as Thessa dove to avoid a volley of arrows from the ground.
You have weapons. Use them.
Soren looked at the small dagger in her hand. I don’t think this will do much.
Not that one.
A well of darkness called on her, coaxing her closer. Death sensed the closeness of so many lives in peril, and his call was a siren’s song. Soren felt the ichor of the magic trying to leak from her fingertips, and she almost let go before she saw the face of the rider ahead.
Oh gods.
Kelshie.
Her long-lost sister cried out to her companions, but over the wind and the chaos of the battle ensuing down below, Soren could not hear what she said.
“Kelshie!” Soren screamed. “Kelshie, it’s me!”
Her sister whipped her head towards her, but there was no softness or mercy on her face, only resolve.
“Traitor!” Kelshie called out shrilly, her wyvern circling Thessa.
Archers from atop two of the other wyverns let loose a wave of arrows. Soren’s gaze snagged on one of them, his face familiar. It took her a moment, but she realized who he was as he cried out to one of his companions.
It was Lanor, the knight who had been so kind to her when they had journeyed to the temple. Now, she knew why. He was a Misean sympathizer—
Soren screamed as one of his arrows tore through her arm, and Thessa all but shouted, Focus, Soren!
But she couldn’t, not with everything Vane had just told her and Kelshie staring at her with hate. She was done. There wasn’t a point anymore, there couldn’t be. She had thought her hope had died long ago, but now she knew: today was the day it would truly fade into nothing.
Soren!
She ignored Thessa and closed her eyes. Blood ran down her arm to her fingertips as she waited for the final strike. But then, a shadow passed over her, and the blow never came.
Opening her eyes, she gasped softly as she saw the enormous, black-scaled dragon above her. Kelshie’s companions were waving frantically to her, all of them shouting as they were dwarfed by the second Vemon dragon, the shadow to Thessa’s moon.
It could only be one rider.
Mòr Maslach.
The rebel riders scrambled into some formation, and Soren ripped the arrow from her arm, screaming between her teeth. She had to try and save Kelshie. The masked rider above would likely kill her for it, but at least she would die saving her sister.
Thessa. Go after him.
Beneath her, Thessa rumbled, her scales vibrating. You do not know what you’re doing.
I’m saving my sister.
The dragon didn’t argue further, soaring up into the air as the masked rider and his dragon dove for one of the wyverns.
As they shot past Soren and Thessa, she got a better look at the mask.
It was made of some dark, almost obsidian-like material.
The shape was hard to decipher, the material molded to the rider’s face in jagged pieces.
She didn’t have time to think further on it, though, because the screech of a wyvern split through the air as the masked rider’s dragon tore through its neck below her.
Dive, Thessa.
She didn’t argue further, angling down as the other wyverns circled the masked rider. Flames shot through the air all around Soren, but Thessa kept a straight course, her mouth opening, revealing her dagger-like teeth as she pummeled towards the black Vemon dragon.
Then, in slow motion, everything changed.
Soren doubled over on Thessa’s back as something slammed into her torso—a blade thrown her way. Thessa screeched and reared back from the black dragon as spots filled Soren’s vision. Vaguely, she saw Kelshie readying to throw another dagger and deliver the killing blow.
“Stop,” Soren rasped.
But only hate burned in her sister’s eyes. Years as a soldier had taken her kindness or mercy. The stern, sweet sister Soren remembered from childhood was gone, and now, she was met with a choice.
Live or die.
Kill or be killed.
She reached out a hand, as if to try and touch Kelshie one more time.
Her sister threw the dagger at the same moment Death and Night descended in a cloud of fury, darkening the sky.
Soren’s vision blurred as the wyverns cried out, their riders limp as they fell from the sky.
Below, screams cut through the air, ringing in her ears.
She realized she did want to die today, not again. There was a sweeter song beckoning her now.
Revenge.
She wanted to kill both the kings who had caused the gaping hole in her heart. They had turned her into what she was now.
A monster.
She hoped they enjoyed what they created. It was her last thought before she slipped limply off Thessa’s back.