Chapter Forty-One
Skylar Cathal
The ground trembled beneath my boots. The distant rhythm echoed across the pass as two armies marched into position.
The White Fang Mountains towered into the clouds above, blocking out the midday sun.
Between the peaks, a valley rested, littered with large boulders and forests on either side.
At first, the crisp air was cold, but not harsh, more like a mineral scent coming from distant snowfields on top of the towering peaks and ancient glacial streams. Every breath I took sharpened my focus, grounding me to the world we were fighting to save.
There were no screams or bellowing war cries yet. No movement, only a consistent buildup of pressure. The anticipation forced every muscle in my body to tense as I braced for what was to come.
Branches snapped behind me as units took their formation in the forest along the edge of the meadow.
The sound of steel freeing from sheaths clanged, and the ripple of power hummed along the lines of shifters and High Fae warriors waiting for my signal.
A horde of males and females stood united against a dark queen, all holding still.
Daxton appeared at my side, and the world seemed to realign with him, like the final piece of a puzzle slipping into place.
He stood tall. His magic built within his center.
Valencia was drawn in his left hand, and frost clung to the silver blade as if eager for bloodshed.
His presence was an anchor for my courage.
Something settled, flickering behind his silver gaze, and I nodded in reply.
We didn’t speak out loud—didn’t need to.
My bow waited in his pocket realm, but the alpha’s dagger was warm in my hand. My grip tightened around the hilt. The familiar grooves molded perfectly to my palm. It thrummed faintly, alive with the spirits of every alpha before me.
And across the clearing… Minaeve waited.
The vile queen stood poised in her black armored gown.
Her dark turquoise eyes narrowed on me, sharp enough to slice through the space between us.
Shadows curled lazily around the skirt of her gown like tendrils of smoke.
To Minaeve’s right, King Taran sat astride a massive black steed.
His expression was unreadable. His emotions were hidden beneath a golden helm, while his hand rested on the pommel of his sword.
To Minaeve’s left, her twin’s dark hair flowed across his brow. His expression seemed serene, in a haunting way only he could manage. And between them, golden hair flowing across his brow, smirking like a traitorous snake, stood Gilen.
The cold sunlight peered through a break in the clouds, highlighting the endless lines of warriors behind our foes.
They held firm in their formations, armor glinting under banners of gold and crimson flying high on strange towers built on rolling platforms. A low murmur of magic swept through their ranks, like the world drawing in a long breath before a raging scream.
My gaze locked with Minaeve’s for an instant that seemed to stretch on for a lifetime. I watched as her eyes flicked over the army behind me along the treeline, then to Daxton, until she slowly moved back to me.
The space between us vibrated with tension. My blood boiled with rage at the destruction she’d caused, not for the shifters and High Fae alone, but for all of Valdor. My phoenix prowled beneath my skin, restless and ready to fight.
Only one of us would be walking away from this.
Daxton stepped half a pace closer, a silent promise at my side. I lifted my chin, with the dagger clutched in my palm as I swallowed and readied myself.
“I’m with you, Spitfire,” Daxton said.
Minaeve smiled across the way, slow and wicked, as she glided her feet across the terrain. Each step was deliberate, with an air of arrogance, as if she believed she had already won this war.
I took a deep breath before stepping forward to meet her. The soft grass bent beneath my boots. Behind me, shifters growled, High Fae magic hummed, and steel whispered against sheaths and shields at the ready.
Daxton matched my stride without hesitation, falling into place at my right like he’d been forged there. His presence crackled with ice and fury, a cold counterpoint to the heat rolling along my fingertips. Our armies loomed behind us, embodying a wall of power and waiting violence.
I gritted my teeth. It’s time for the false queen to finally burn.
I couldn’t help my gaze darting to Gilen, who walked at Istar’s shoulder. He wore the same smugness as his allies. His betrayal was worn like a glorious crown on top of his head. His golden gaze slid over our ranks, lingering on Daxton before landing on me.
And then, he smirked.
My phoenix sang across the pack bond to the others at my back. A chorus of bears, wolves, and others in animal form rallied to my call.
Minaeve stopped ten paces from us.
I halted opposite her, with Daxton at my side.
Power rippled off him in frigid waves as his stare narrowed on the woman who had tormented him for centuries.
For a moment, the world stilled. There was only the whisper of shifting armor, the thrum of magic underfoot, and the faint tremor of thousands waiting for the first strike.
“Half-breed, you’re still breathing, I see,” Minaeve said. “How… inconvenient.”
I smiled back, sharp as a blade. “I could say the same.”
A few snickers rippled behind our ranks as Minaeve’s lips twitched downward.
Ignoring them, she tilted her head, eyes bright with a cruel, glittering satisfaction. “So, you call yourself an alpha queen,” she said, voice smooth as poison. Her gaze flicked to our joined front, her smile intensifying. “And here you stand with your loyal little king.”
Daxton didn’t give her the satisfaction of reacting to her words, remaining steady at my side. I stepped half a pace closer, claiming the space between us as I brushed against his shoulder.
“Minaeve,” I said, my voice firm as it soared across the distance. “Your armies will not be enough to defeat us. Valdor will never belong to the likes of you.”
Istar huffed a laugh beside his twin. His turquoise gaze drifted over the battlefield as if he were already seeing the bodies that would litter it. His fingers trailed lazily along the hilt of his spear, clutched at his side.
Minaeve’s smile deepened, wicked and serpentine. “Oh, Skylar Cathal,” she said, drawing out each syllable. “Valdor already belongs to me.”
A chill caressed the nape of my neck as Daxton readied his magic. A soft breeze swirled around my hair, gifting me a sweet kiss of the lupine and fireweed before drifting away.
Minaeve had poisoned this world. It would never belong to her.
Istar’s fingers curled around the shaft of his spear. His smile was as wicked as his twin’s as he turned to Gilen. “Are you ready to earn your place?”
Gilen chuckled. “More than ready.” He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, like he was loosening up for a sport.
King Taran waited on his mount to Minaeve’s right, armored, ready for battle, but somehow empty. His eyes were hollow beneath his faceless helm. There was no spark, no fury behind a dull haze.
“Is the king even aware he’s here?” I asked Daxton.
“Unlikely. Minaeve has siphoned Seamus’s magic for years. Taran’s mind likely belongs to her.”
Disgust curled in my stomach. A pang of guilt threatened to swallow me whole as I gazed at the horde assembled behind the false queen.
Daxton shifted his stance, drawing attention with ice glinting along Valencia’s edge. “Minaeve,” he said, “stand down. Withdraw your forces. This is your only chance for a surrender.”
She threw her head back and laughed. The sound echoed across the clearing like a cracked bell.
“Oh, Daxton,” she crooned when she caught her breath. “You sweet, delusional male. Even with your memories restored, you still offer this?”
She glanced back at Gilen, who huffed a laugh, shook his head, and shifted his weight to a relaxed stance as a smirk crossed his lips.
“Tell me…” Minaeve said, tilting her head back toward us, feigning concern. “Do you truly believe your little human allies will swoop in and save you?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
Minaeve flashed her teeth. “Oh, let me show you.” She reached into the folds of her golden-armored, chain-mail-covered gown, her fingers wrapping around something small and silver. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it onto the ground between us.
It fell with a soft metallic clink, a delicate silver feather on a chain.
My heart slammed against my ribs.
The world around me shrank. My focus narrowed to a razor edge as flames sparked along my palms. “Where is my cousin?”
“Cousin?” King Taran shook his head, eyes blinking like he was waking from a dream.
Minaeve narrowed her eyes at the king as her shadows swarmed him. “Nothing of note. It is a trick, husband. You remember how low they are willing to sink to gain the upper hand.”
Heat licked up my arms. My phoenix pushed against my skin so fiercely that it nearly took my breath away. Daxton moved closer—not to restrain me, but to help calm my magic.
Minaeve saw the fire in my hands and smiled like a wolf scenting blood.
“Oops,” she said sweetly. “Did I ruin the surprise?”
Flames curled up my forearms in bright, hungry tendrils. “Oh, Minaeve,” I said, voice shaking not with fear, but with fury. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
The clearing trembled beneath our feet as if Valdor itself was lashing out against the false queen. Caging my rage, I held the alpha’s dagger out between us, letting the brilliant steel blade catch the light of the rising sun.
Minaeve’s laugh cut through the rising tension.
“A lone dagger?” she sneered. “You think you still have a chance in this fight? You think you’ll win?
” Her eyes glimmered with cruel delight.
“We have the Heart of Valdor, you stupid half-breed. What advantage do you believe you still have in this fight?”
I could feel the weight of the armies behind us as fists collided with shields, the paws, hooves, and feet of our army drumming in unison. Every second stretched. Every heartbeat hammered against my chest with the might of our people.
Her arrogance will be her undoing.
I let the corners of my mouth curve upward, keeping my voice steady. “Well then, let’s see who has viewed their last sunrise.”
I bent and threw the dagger high into the sky, and time seemed to slow. The blade spun in a perfect arc above us, catching the light and scattering it across the battlefield.
In the next breath, my muscles screamed as bone shifted, wings replaced my arms, and talons carved themselves from molten fire. I launched into the sky, flying toward my dagger.
I could feel the power in Daxton’s voice beneath me as he yelled, “For Valdor!”
In a silver flash, the alpha’s dagger disappeared, and in the next instant, it appeared in Gilen’s grasp.
The pulse of the pack bond blazed bright in my chest once more as it snapped back into place.
Gilen, the bravest amongst us, returned. Our spy sent beyond enemy lines, shouldering the heaviest burden I could ask someone from my pack to carry.
Istar didn’t even have time to register what was happening.
Gilen pivoted, and in one fluid motion, he sliced the alpha’s dagger through the mage’s throat. Blood spewed in a wide arc as the life drained from Istar’s eyes. He tried to gasp, reaching for his twin. A silent scream caught in his throat as he collapsed on the ground.
Gilen stood over the body and glared at the dead mage at his feet. “You didn’t deserve a quick death.”
Minaeve screamed. Feral and fractured, her raw howl tore across the battlefield. Her shadows flickered, turning from me to Gilen, eager to avenge her brother’s death.
But Daxton was there. My mate reached out with his magic and teleported Gilen into the skies. In the next blink, Gilen was soaring above our people once more, his roc’s cry ringing out as a battle song to our marching feet.
The once calm meadow was now our battleground.
“Attack!” King Taran roared from his mount.
Minaeve faded into her shadows and disappeared, dragging her twin’s lifeless body with her. Human forces numbering in the thousands charged, with the wingbeats of harpies in the air and the growls of garmr descending from the slopes of the White Fang Mountains.
Shifters leaped forward, fangs bared and claws slicing air.
High Fae warriors vaulted into action. Weapons were drawn with death in their eyes.
Magic collided, crackling, shattering the stillness that had held us all.
The armies roared, thousands of voices and hearts colliding on a field of green that would soon run red.
I dove into the fray. Fire trailed behind me like a comet tearing through the night.
Soldiers scattered below while magic flared from mages trying to tame my flames.
Screams of those first to fall rose above the thunder of combat.
Scorched earth and flesh masked the sweet flowers and innocent greenery that the meadow held only moments before.
This was it. The end of everything, or the beginning of the world we’d make anew.
And we were ready.
The battle had finally begun.