35. Raea #2
One moment, we’re looking at the water, the next, a woman steps out, hair golden and flowing, a bodice of silver armor above a white, flowing skirt. Intricate, detailed gauntlets wrap her arms, matching the style of the bodice and the headpiece she wears.
But none of that matters, because I can’t keep my eyes off her white wings. They’re bigger than her, their delicate feathers working in unison as she lands softly on the beach.
Green eyes meet mine, and for half a heartbeat, she smiles at me. It’s like she knows me. Behind her, an army of warriors spills out onto the beach, infiltrating both the dark and my dome of light. Beyond them, it’s daylight, and I can see a large encampment.
My twin sister shrieks, hurling something through the air, but the woman stands, blocking an invisible attack. The woman whispers words that I instantly recognize as Elvisiah. It's a sort of magic to freeze time. Then her gaze shifts back to me.
Behind me, my friends huddle close, all of us in various states of shock as we look around to the warriors who have now encircled us, the shadows at their backs.
The woman steps forward. “Lightbringer,” she says in Elvisiah. “We have only seconds. You must come with us.”
I shake my head. “I can’t leave them,” I choke, glancing up toward the palace, toward screams and smoke and everything I love.
A warm hand settles on mine. I glance up into impossibly green eyes that look like a fresh layer of moss.
“I’m Daeanna,” she says—this time in the common tongue, as if meeting me where I am matters. “We are here to help.” Her eyes don’t waver. Not once. “You are the key. And you cannot become it here.”
My throat tightens.
“We can’t hold the gateway much longer. Caelus is waiting.
Train. Restore your lifeforce.” Her gaze flicks to Ryker.
“Complete your Aethermark. It matters.” Then she looks back at me, softer but not weaker.
“Gateways have opened across your worlds. We won’t leave them defenseless.
I swear it.” Her fingers tighten around mine.
“But you must go. To survive. To return.”
Ryker looks down at me, and I know—without words. We have to.
I nod, even as my heart splinters.
“Let them come too,” I say, voice shaking. “My friends. I can’t leave them.”
Daeanna’s gaze flicks to them, calculating, and she nods once.
Another warrior steps out of the gateway. He’s tall, with dark hair flowing around his shoulders, his metallic armor glittering under my light that sputters. I can feel it draining every second I stand here holding it.
Sweat is already beading at my brow, and if Ryker weren’t holding me up, I’d have collapsed already.
“Go with Riven,” she says, then glances at Morana. “I can handle her.”
I don’t believe anyone can handle her, but I believe Daeanna believes it. And that’s enough.
I step forward. I don’t look up toward the palace. I can’t.
Somewhere above us, my family is fighting, bleeding, terrified—and I am walking away. My chest tightens, grief and guilt tangling so tightly I can barely breathe.
Ten steps.
Step one. It feels like a funeral for the life I had ten minutes ago.
Step two. Tears blur my vision as I think of the kingdoms—the cities, the people, the worlds that trusted us to keep them safe. None of us was ready for this. No prophecy could have prepared us.
Step three. The hem of my ice-blue gown drags through wet sand—silk meant for a wedding that won’t happen. No vows. No celebration. No future I once believed was certain. Just war, and whatever waits on the other side of this tear in the world.
Step four. I tighten my grip on Ryker’s hand and remind myself that I am not alone. At least we are crossing into this new world together.
Step five. The warriors in front of the gateway look like steel given breath—real in a way the shadows aren’t. They stand immovable, unyielding, a wall between us and annihilation. For the first time since the darkness rose, it feels like there might be a fighting chance.
Step six. My gaze finds Clara. Fat tears streak her cheeks as Trysten holds her close, shielding her without question. She’s too young for this. Too innocent. And yet—I’m grateful she’s with us. Grateful she isn’t alone.
Step seven. My eyes flick to my twin, my nightmare, frozen in time, her hatred sharp even through the spell holding her still. There are a thousand questions screaming inside me—but none of them matter right now.
Step eight. I look at Daeanna—at those wings and her steady gaze—and something in me says: safe. The certainty of it hits fast and unexplainable. I don’t doubt it. I don’t question it. Somehow I know.
Step nine. I look at Ryker. At my mate. At the storm and devotion and promise bound between us. Whatever comes next—we face it together.
Step ten: The air changes—sharp, electric, wrong. My skin prickles as I cross the threshold, and something ancient in me answers.
I pause to see Aolyn standing there. I reach back—not as a Princess, but as a friend refusing to lose one more piece of her heart.
Aolyn looks at my outstretched hand, then at the darkness swallowing the beach behind her. There’s a war in her eyes, a lifetime of loyalty battling a terrifying, unknown future.
She nods and slips her hand into mine.
The world lurches. The sound of wind roars in my ears, leaving nothing behind but the echo of a creature’s growl and the sound of steel meeting fate as the gateway closes behind us.
And just like that, there is no turning back.