33. Ava
AVA
Ava’s scream ripped from her throat as the earth fell away beneath her. Weightless, she swung through the sky, her stomach dropping to her toes.
The shadow lifted her into the clouds and held her before itself. She could feel its gaze piercing through her, tearing back her layers as it peered into her soul with its malevolent gaze.
I know what you fear most. It giggled, the deep rumble shredding through her heart and digging in like claws. Well, it’s true. You have failed them.
Her gaze flickered, unbidden, toward the tower.
Toward the innocents. Toward her friends.
Yes. The shadow’s giggle deepened into a roar as a dozen tentacles slammed into the tower, puncturing again and again and again…
Ava yelled, her heart in her throat. She grabbed hold of the tentacle around her waist and tried to yank it loose. To do something—to do anything—as stone exploded into the air. The tower groaned and creaked, and a side wall collapsed and tumbled to the ground with a bone-shattering thud.
More screams exploded from inside the collapsing tower.
Her friends flashed before her eyes. Ylsi and her ponytails. Brynja and her flashing eyes. Finnr and Siri.
And wild, unstoppable Roar, who didn’t yet understand how dangerous and cruel the world could be to brave little children.
Someone emerged from the tower, and Jerrid howled a warning.
Brynja turned toward them, her dagger in hand, teeth flashing. Others emerged behind her and fled toward the camp, many of them supporting their friends or carrying the children.
The shadow laughed and snapped toward them.
Ava shrieked and clamped her hands around the coil cinching her waist. Adrenaline flooded her veins, her weakness bolstered by hate for this thing—but no, not just hate. With love for these humans who deserved to be free. To live in a world without nightmares haunting their every sleeping moment.
Their every waking moment.
Below her, Brynja ducked and rolled as the shadow struck deep into the ground where she had been standing.
Ava’s hands, slick with her own blood, latched onto the shadow, and she pulled. Not at the tentacle, but at the shadow itself. An idea formed in the back corner of her mind.
It was a wild, crazy idea.
But she reached out with her thoughts, attacking the shadow lurking in the back of her own head, turning the tables against it.
It had stolen enough from them. From her. From Jerrid. From Prince Haryk and all the brave humans fighting for their lives below on the ground. Enough was enough.
Maybe it was time the shadow learned how it felt to be robbed of its essence, of its hopes and dreams. If she could take energy from Jerrid when he was connected with her consciousness, why couldn’t she do the same to this blasted shadow?
She attacked hard and fast, throwing herself deep into the nightmare like one of its own tentacles driving down, down, down into the ground. The world faded away until only darkness remained. It was all around her—the seething heart of the shadow.
And it didn’t know she was there until she sank her hands into its foul heart.
She squeezed her fingers tightly and yanked back with all her might, pulling it out of itself, stealing its strength, its power. The foul darkness flooded through her body, filling her mouth with the taste of ash. Terrible, terrible things flashed through her thoughts.
Vile things.
Things so terrible she had never in her life imagined they were possible.
Visions bombarded her of Brynja and the girls lying lifeless on the ground, their eyes glazed and bodies bloody. She saw Jerrid ripped out of the sky and torn apart, his roars of pain reverberating in her ears.
The vision changed, shifting out of the woods to a great city with dark-blue banners fluttering in a wild wind.
Eroth.
Her heart caught in her throat as millions of tentacles burst through the streets of the city.
Screams exploded across Eroth as buildings burst into flames.
Ava was dragged through the vision to the very steps of the palace.
Familiar corridors and halls whisked by her.
The wooden halls of Eroth began to ripple with heat as they crackled and burned.
A tall, lithe shape loomed out of the darkness, and her focus sharpened as the movement stopped, thrusting her in front of a young dark elf. Her heart jerked in her chest.
Peregrin! she cried out, but her brother didn’t respond.
Haunted eyes stared straight through her, his long black hair floating around his shoulders as he drifted off the floor, feet suspended several yards above the wooden slats.
Something brushed past her, a slithering tentacle of shadow.
It pierced her brother straight through the heart. Pain ignited in her chest, as if it were her body being ripped open by that incorporeal spear. Her scream echoed off the walls of the nightmare palace as Peregrin’s body arched, his eyes rolling back in his head.
It’s just a dream, she screamed as she yanked at the magic so hard it flung her out of the vision.
The shadow howled and withdrew to defend itself. The tentacles slithered past her as they recoiled.
It would come for her again.
But she held on and wrenched more power, magic, and darkness out of the monster. It filled her, consuming her, but she smiled with grim satisfaction as she tasted its panic.
Then she realized she had made a grave mistake.
As the dark magic flooded through her body, she didn’t know what to do with it. The magic touched every part of her being, melding with her body, embracing her…but what was she supposed to do with it now?
And still there was more magic to pull, more to steal.
But she was full, overflowing with dark magic with no place to put it. No way to get rid of it. No way to destroy it.
Ice flooded her veins as tentacles slammed into her. The magic she had stolen created a shield around her body, and the tentacles thundered into it with teeth-jarring force, pummeling it over and over again as the shadow tried to reach her.
Its screams pierced her temples, so loud Ava couldn’t even hear herself think.
Let me take it, a voice whispered in the back of her mind.
But she clung more tightly to the darkness, afraid to let it go, afraid the shadow was tricking her, trying to deceive her into giving it back.
She curled into herself as tentacles thundered against her shield, as screams threatened to shatter her eardrums, as magic tried to eat her alive from the inside out.
Tentacles wrapped around her, pressing against the small of her back. They must have broken through the shield without her knowing.
Ava, let me take it, that voice whispered again, gentle but insistent, and very familiar.
She realized then that the coils wrapped around her were not crushing her. And those were hands pressed against her spine, not tentacles.
Come on, Meat Pasty, he whispered. Let’s finish this together.
Her eyes flew open, and Jerrid was there, his eyes bright with dragon fire, his incisors sharp but his face incredibly gentle. He lowered his head and hovered. She met him halfway, tasting his breath before she pressed her mouth against his.
A spark ignited in her chest, a flicker of warmth and light that flooded through her entire body. As his lips moved against hers, his fingers kneading her spine, the dragon fire coated the darkness inside her in a thin layer of heat.
Her hand moved to finger the hair at the nape of his neck as his dragon fire entwined with her fire magic, his crimson flames with her blue ones, each feeding the other, giving as much as they took so that the magic grew stronger.
The giving and taking a dance of sharing strengths, not stealing them.
Together, they were stronger.
The three of them—but no, there were only the two of them now. She could taste Dragon’s fire in Jerrid’s kiss, feel his heat radiating against her skin, but the thoughts in her mind felt like singleness.
Wholeness.
She knew then that Jerrid had done it. That he’d repaired his fractured soul, that he and Dragon were knit back together, no longer one or the other.
There was only Jerrid, but with all the best and worst parts of himself in one mind, with one purpose.
And somehow, she knew that this man would be unstoppable.
He pulled back and let a kiss slide across her jaw before he pressed his forehead to hers. “Do you trust me, Meat Pasty?”
She choked on a laugh. “Always.”
His thoughts asked for the dark magic again, and this time she released her hold, letting the darkness slide into him. He tugged and pulled, winding it around himself—no, he was plating himself with it, like armor. An armor of stolen darkness.
His fingers slid off her hips as he withdrew, his eyes bright with dragon fire but tinged with something dark and dangerous. Her breath caught in her throat, and panic flickered through her mind.
Had she given him too much? Was it more than he could handle? Would he succumb to the temptation the darkness promised?
But he lifted his fingers, trailed them down her cheek, and spun away.
The shadow screamed in rage and shifted its attack from her to the dragon shifter coated in shadowy armor.
You think you can steal from me? it raged at her, tentacles exploding in all directions.
And in that moment, she feared the world would end. Because the shadow was everywhere, all around her, slamming into a shield that grew weaker with every drop of magic she fed into Jerrid. But she couldn’t stop. He needed that power to defeat the monster.
They would save Brynja and the others, no matter what.
No matter what, Jerrid whispered back to her.
And then he was slicing through tentacles, his form only half shifted—half dragon, half man—her everything.
His wings spun his body in a violent spiral, the spines on his back shredding through the shadow’s weakening tentacles like a blade through tender flesh. Smoke and ash exploded with every slice, filling the air with the bitter tang of sulfur and scorched brimstone.
She choked on the bitter fumes and the stench of rottenness. Yet beneath the foulness was something else, something sweeter but just as powerful. Spice. Burning cedar. And something older, stronger, hotter…
It made her think of a crushed star.
No. Of a star reborn.
As Jerrid collided into the shadow again and again, hurling its own magic against it, using it like a blade of nightmares, her shield cracked and popped like shattering ice. She looked up just as it broke, and a tentacle slammed into her, knocking her sideways.
She plummeted toward the earth with a scream.
The ground rushed toward her, but then it jerked away, and her vision clouded with earth and sky. Fingers gripped her wrist as she spun in a controlled arc.
Jerrid’s eyes stared into hers as he released her. She ground her teeth together as she rolled across the ground, pain pounding against her body. She was bruised…but not broken.
After dragging herself to her knees, she shoved herself to her feet, vision spinning as she staggered, dizzy and unsteady. Inhaling several deep, stabilizing breaths, she lifted her face as Jerrid and the shadow collided in another frenzied attack.
Ash dusted her shoulders, filling the air like falling snow.
Jerrid sliced through half a dozen more tentacles, but the shadow quickly replaced each one. Jerrid flapped his wings and ripped through more limbs, but the shadow screamed and threw more at him. They were locked in a standstill, evenly matched, each waiting for the other to break first.
Her breath seized in her chest, and she knew she needed to tip the scales. This was their last chance—they wouldn’t get another opportunity.
Exhaling slowly, she rotated her hands and summoned her fire. It flickered weakly in her palms. Her body was so tired, but she had to try one last time. She poured herself into the fire, feeding it with lingering shadow magic, lacing it with the shadow’s own darkness.
Then arms pressed against hers, a solid chest against her spine.
Jerrid?
But no, when she lifted her gaze, he was still locked in combat above her head. Panic sizzled, her stomach clenching as she realized the arms stretched alongside hers weren’t human arms.
They were dark, bluish gray.
Dark elf arms.
Had Talos returned to take his final revenge? She tensed, ready to fight him off with the last of her energy, but those large hands only pressed over hers, his palms against the back of her knuckles.
She inhaled a stabilizing breath and forced her mind to focus.
He wasn’t hurting her… He was…helping?
Blistering elf fire poured into her fireball in a steady, controlled stream. The magic grew, spiraling around and around as it expanded in pulses that blew her hair away from her face. This magic was hot and uncontrolled, ancient and wild.
Yet it was laced with something warm and golden, something that made her think of summer days and sandy beaches…
Sand magic.
Her panic evaporated in an explosion of relief as she threw herself wide open and allowed the dark elf prince to help her. Together, they poured their combined magic into the fireball, a weapon forged of elf flame, sand magic, and stolen darkness.
Prince Haryk’s arms shook against hers, his veins bulging beneath his taut skin, his muscles straining with effort. She ground her teeth together, and the prince’s fingers curved around hers like a bird’s talons.
Then he shifted his hands, guiding hers so that their palms braced against the back of the fireball. She tilted her face toward the sky, heart in her throat.
“Jerrid,” she screamed.
He spun toward her, spiraling through the air as more tentacles swarmed around him. His eyes widened, but then a grin ripped across his face, and he whooped. He launched upward, over a jabbing shadow spear, and then he ducked low, sweeping across the ground toward them.
Prince Haryk drove her arms forward, and together, they hurled the fireball into the sky.
The moment the magic left her palms, Ava’s body went limp, her muscles refusing to respond to her commands. Prince Haryk tried to catch her, but he collapsed too, and they hit the ground with a jarring thud.
They watched the trajectory of their weapon, forged of not one but three kingdoms.
Their final, desperate hope.
Would it be enough?