Chapter 41
Revna
The new day dawned. While everyone else suited up, putting on whatever fragments of armor Freja had managed to scrounge together over the last twenty-four hours, they hugged their loved ones. Said their goodbyes, just in case.
I sheathed the Soulcleaver on one hip—my own blade had been damaged too thoroughly by Callum for me to use it until I had a chance to mend it at a forge—and sat at the edge of the crowd, alone.
My thoughts turned dark, and I let them in. For once, I allowed the anger to fuel me. The need for vengeance drove every impatient tap of my foot.
It was different from the anger I’d carried with me for so much of my life.
Distantly, I found myself wondering if S?ren hadn’t been entirely right when he said to never fight angry.
This anger sharpened me, honed my senses.
The other anger from before had been nothing but a paltry disguise for my fear.
Now I had lost everything. There wasn’t anything left to fear.
A hand fell on my shoulder. I looked up, shielding my eyes from the bright, rising sun, to see Sonja. Her expression was inscrutable, a mask of her own hiding the grief running through her veins. Outfitted for battle, she was regal and elegant, her short dark hair pinned back and out of her face.
“I don’t know whether you have any use for this,” she said, “but someone passed this to me. Mira grabbed it when she brought you back from the castle yesterday. He would have wanted you to have it.”
She extended her other hand. The Hellbringer mask stared at me, all wide eyes and snarling teeth. I took it from her carefully, ran my palms over the wood. “Thank you.”
Sonja nodded and moved back to the group of makeshift soldiers preparing for war against a god. Were we all doomed to die today? Was everyone else feeling the same rising sense of dread as me?
Astrid walked by me and signed, “We’re heading out in five minutes.”
I chewed my lip, glanced around to be sure no one was watching me too closely, and then slid the Hellbringer mask over my head.
The world darkened, and my eyes took their time adjusting.
Finally, my vision settled. I couldn’t see below the snout of the mask without moving my head, but otherwise, it was like I wasn’t wearing anything over my eyes at all.
Magic, I thought, curious. I wonder what kind of Lurae would allow for enchanting objects in this way.
Volkan came to a stop in front of me, and a little smile lit on his face. “You look fierce, Bloodsinger.”
The prince extended a hand, and I allowed him to pull me to my feet. “Thanks.” My voice was distorted, just like S?ren’s had been when he wore the mask. I didn’t have the capacity to feel excitement, but my heartbeat sped at the sound. “How are you feeling?”
“About the battle?” He shrugged, gazing at something past my shoulder with longing in his eyes. “Well enough, I suppose.”
I looked over my shoulder and followed his line of sight. A small group of archers, including Jac, was gathering arrows for their quivers. I watched Jac lean over to a younger Seeing One—no more than a teenager—and adjust their armor slightly.
I turned back to Volkan. Suddenly, the way he’d spent startling amounts of time in the Sharpened Axe no longer seemed as innocuous as he’d played it off to be. Every excuse for helping Jac keep my secret had been incredibly convenient, especially if…
“You care for him.” I was careful to keep my voice low.
Volkan didn’t even bother looking at me, just frowned while he watched Jac. “Of course I do. How could anyone know him and not care for him?”
“Does he know?”
“No.” Volkan scoffed. “I thought I was being obvious, but he’s either seeing it and choosing to ignore my feelings or entirely in the dark. I’m not sure which would be worse, to be honest.”
I hummed. “Maybe you should tell him. Before we all waltz to our deaths.”
At that, his eyes finally flickered down to me. “You’re just as pessimistic as S?ren was. It’s endearing to hear things like that coming from beneath the mask.”
My breath stuttered in my chest, a wave of rising grief threatening to swallow me whole. I pushed it down, down, down into the depths. Later. I would deal with it later.
“Stop avoiding the subject,” I snapped. When he winced, I softened my tone. “If you don’t tell him now, you might never get the chance.”
Freja’s voice interrupted as she yelled, “Fighters, line up! We’re leaving!”
I patted Volkan’s chest. “Think about it.”
He was still staring at Jac when I walked away to join the rest of the entourage.
We walked a mile toward the city before Astrid and Mira began teleporting us to varying locations.
A small attempt to help both women save their energy for the fight ahead.
I bounced on the balls of my feet, anxiety and anger flooding my veins in equal measure.
I didn’t like the plan Freja had laid out—where I arrived last, after the castle had been decimated, hopefully able to catch Callum and Arraya off guard.
It made enough sense that I didn’t fight Freja’s insistence. Even though I suspected it had more to do with her wanting me out of the way than with logic and careful planning. But the idea of waiting here and missing the beginning of the battle didn’t sit right with me either.
Astrid began by taking Freja and Sonja, who were responsible for setting the charges without being spotted.
The moment they left, Mira began shepherding our inexperienced soldiers to various locations.
Some were going into the city, their job to kill as many priests as possible without being spotted.
Others were being stationed in the hidden clearing where S?ren and I had trained my magic.
They would position themselves on the path to engage with any priests trying to move up to the castle as reinforcements.
The rest, including Volkan and Jac, were waiting with me.
They would be teleported into the castle courtyard as soon as the opportunity arose.
Jac nudged me with his shoulder. “I didn’t get the chance to tell you earlier, but the mask looks good on you.”
I found myself turning to him, his approval a relief. After all the harm I’d caused him, this felt like forgiveness. “Really?”
Jac had so rarely smiled growing up, but now his lips curved with ease. “Yes. He would be proud of you. Frode would be, too.”
I waited for the sorrow to cover me, weigh me down again. But whether it was because of my adrenaline or for some other reason, it didn’t come. Only a vicious determination to be the end of Callum and Arraya. “I hope so.”
He and I stood quietly side by side while we waited for our turn to be teleported away. I considered wrapping him in a hug, telling him how glad I was that he didn’t die in the Trials for no reason. Considered pretending these were our last moments together—just in case they were.
I couldn’t bring myself to do it.
So when Mira arrived and reached her hands out for Volkan and Jac, I patted my brother on the back and let him go with nothing more than a smile and a nod of reassurance. Maybe by pretending we’d make it out of this alive, we somehow would.
They disappeared, and for a long minute, I was alone.
The dangerous thoughts swarmed like flies on carrion.
Was S?ren’s ghost still in the castle? He’d said that souls who passed on were stuck in the place they died.
Not even stuck to their bodies. Stupid, that once I’d been able to manipulate soul threads.
Maybe then I at least could have brought him with me.
Would he be all right when the castle exploded?
I shook my head. He was a ghost; of course he’d be fine.
The real question was whether I had the capacity to make Arraya hurt the way I did. Whether I’d be able to give her a slow death; the kind of pain she deserved.
Astrid reappeared, and I took an inadvertent step toward her. She signed, “It’s started. The castle is crumbling as we speak.”
I rushed to ask, “And the queen?”
She shrugged. “Not sure. But I hope she feels just as scared as I do when I see you in that mask.” The teleporter winked at me and held out her arm.
I grabbed hold of her wrist, and then said, “Thank you. For everything. And I’m sorry.”
She simply smiled, no hidden malice behind it, no sardonic patience despite my wrongdoings. Only a deep, profound understanding in her eyes. “You’re doing everything you can to make up for your mistakes. That’s all that matters.”
We teleported away, and when I blinked next, the scene around me was utter chaos.
The castle of Bhorglid, once my only home, was imploding. The roof crumbled, the stone caved in on itself, and the tower with the library was on fire. The courtyard shook with the strength of an earthquake, and I bent at the knees to steady myself as the ground rumbled beneath me.
Priests raced away from the impending wreckage, some of which smashed craters into the grass.
I drew the Soulcleaver and released Astrid’s wrist. The teleporter grimaced as she drew knives from her bandolier, preparing to attack.
Fighters from our side of the conflict battled with the priests.
Jac was positioned high up in a tree. I watched one of his arrows slam into a priest, just in time for Volkan to step forward and finish the man off.
I stepped through the fray, toward the steadily falling chunks of the castle ruins. The priests were not my responsibility—Arraya was. And she was nowhere to be seen.
The noise of the collapsing building was far greater than I had imagined.
The crash of it all hovered over the battle like an ominous cloud hailing a thunderstorm.
Only the sky was clear, the sun shining down over us all, glinting on the blades as they crashed together.
I stared into the ruins, searching for a glimpse of Arraya.
But dust billowed out from the scene, and she was nowhere to be found.
When the sound finally began to fade, echoes the only remains of the explosions that had gone off, I screamed. “Callum! Come face me, coward!”
A haunting laugh came from the dust. I readied the Soulcleaver, dodging a blow from a priest who tried to sneak up behind me and then stabbing him with a fatal wound.
I turned back to the wreckage just as the haunting voice of the Kryllian Queen called, “You dare to return here? After I killed your other half?”
The reminder of S?ren was like sharp fingernails digging into an open wound. But I stood steady and allowed the pain to fuel my rage. “This time, I have a weapon that will end you.”
Arraya appeared through the smoke. She was disheveled and covered in grime, her blond hair coated in a layer of ash.
But it did nothing to assuage my nerves.
Especially when she grinned, mouth wide enough for me to see nearly all of her teeth.
The flesh along her lips was peeling grotesquely, and the scorched marks along her hands stretched farther up her arms now.
I tensed, did a quick check to make sure the castle had stabilized enough, and then rushed for her.
She stepped into the crumbled doorway and met my first swipe with her blade.
I didn’t hesitate—I knew how important it was to kill her early on in this battle.
The sooner we could disorient the priests and whatever Lurae fought for them, the sooner we could end this with as little bloodshed as possible. I kicked out, aiming for her stomach.
She—or maybe it was Callum’s half—was too quick.
She dodged, and then used my recovering balance to catch me off guard when she swung again, now wielding a second, shorter sword in her nondominant hand.
I parried and skirted away from every strike, but she wasted no time backing me out into the middle of the courtyard.
The sounds of battle rang in my ears, but I had no space to pay attention to anything but Arraya’s fierce attack.
After only a few minutes, my breath came in pants.
I tried desperately to get the upper hand, but unlike last time, my adversary began the fight without underestimating me.
She knew how I fought, knew how hard I was trying to kill her.
Without S?ren, I wasn’t sure I stood a chance.
But as the first rock of dread began to sink in my stomach, Arraya stumbled. I didn’t have time to analyze why, so I swiped with precision, the Soulcleaver’s blade managing to draw a thick line of blood from her throat. Not a killing blow, but first blood. I would take it.
She lurched out of the way, and a flood of three priests stepped in front of her.
I growled, and while it took less than a full minute for me to dispatch them, it was enough time for her to pull an arrow out of her back and crush it under her foot.
Thank you, Jac. Blood dripped down her chest for a moment before the wound sealed itself.
“Surrender,” I ordered. “Bhorglid will never be yours.”
She laughed, and it sent a chill up my spine. “You may wear the mask, but it doesn’t offer you any power. You have no Lurae. You are nothing.”
“I don’t need a Lurae to defeat you,” I said. “But you do need my Lurae if you ever want to have your body back. It’s easy to see the toll two souls is taking on you.”
It was the truth, even if slightly exaggerated.
Arraya’s eyes were bloodshot, some of her movements jerky.
Occasionally, her features moved in a way that told me the person making the expression wasn’t used to wearing her face.
Surely Arraya wanted her own body back. Surely Callum was forcing her to yield her autonomy, taking control more often than not.
But she grinned. “I will take my husband back in whatever form he offers. I will be his vessel in this world until Aloisa’s successors are chosen again—since you and the Hellbringer failed so early on.
When we control the Fjordlands, nothing will stand in our way.
This is what it means to be a god, you insolent child. ”
“You’re not a god,” I countered. “You just have a superiority complex.”
I stepped forward, swiping at her again, but she stepped out of the way.
Didn’t even bother to parry. Her change in tactic made me wary, and she used my moment of hesitation to her advantage.
A priest appeared at her side, grabbing her by the shoulder.
Just before she teleported away, she crooned, “Doesn’t it eat away at you? That you can’t save everyone?”
Arraya disappeared. And a bloodcurdling scream rent the air.