Twenty-Six #2
Just then, a resounding crack resonated through the air as a yawning chasm began to zigzag in a wide circle around the lawns.
Bubbling lava filled the gaping wound in the earth and devoured tables and food as they tumbled beneath the shifting ground.
Evers screamed as they backed away from the quickly widening moat of boiling heat, clambering together in the middle to avoid Zeverin’s wrath and the brawl that was about to unfold between him and Rorik.
“Seville, get Edira out of here,” Rorik snarled.
She hesitated, her gaze snapping from Rorik to Zeverin, then reached for my wrist. That solitary second was enough for Kara to react, and she lunged toward Seville.
With a heavy thud, Kara slammed into Seville and took her straight to the ground.
A mirage bloomed to life, encompassing them both, and the two of them disappeared.
Zeverin acted at the same moment, his ire solely focused on his son.
Roaring flames coalesced in his palms and then shifted to long whips that he gripped with both hands.
He snapped one at Rorik’s feet, setting the already desiccated grass aflame, and Rorik leaped backward to avoid getting burned.
Run, Edira! he shouted down our bond. Run while they’re distracted!
My head whipped around. The moat of lava had cut us off from the road and was too wide to cross.
Only Evers with wings dared to take to the sky and evacuate, leaving the rest of us woefully stranded.
Beads of sweat dripped from the base of my neck down my spine.
Earsplitting howling like that of two large cats fighting sounded from somewhere to my left, and I heard the distinct thump of a fist connecting with flesh.
Even if I couldn’t see Seville and Kara, I could never mistake the sound of Seville’s murderous hiss.
Taking off in the opposite direction, I made a beeline for the moat.
“Get back here!” Zeverin roared. His whip cracked through the air and snared my leg.
The flames ate away at the silken fabric of my pants in seconds, and searing heat lassoed my calf.
I shrieked as I fell to the ground, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.
All around me the parched grass went up in flames.
We’d be trapped in a wildfire within minutes if this didn’t end.
Rorik screamed wordlessly as he lunged for Zeverin.
With one hand, he summoned barbed black vines that shot up from the earth and constricted Zeverin’s limbs.
Blood oozed from the multitude of cuts lining his body, and his whips went limp.
Scooting free, I winced as the swollen, shiny flesh of my leg caught on a rock.
Problem for later. I jerked my head back around, trying in vain to find an escape route. I scanned the lawns, pausing for a moment when I spied the ancestor tree. One way or another, we’d get what we came for. That, at least, I could do.
“You cannot defeat me,” Zeverin said, and laughed.
His body went up in flames, and the vines dusted to nothing.
Rorik circled him slowly, keeping his attention focused on him and off me.
They snarled at each other, their powers ebbing and flowing as they both tried to find openings.
Gingerly, I eased myself onto my feet and edged toward the tree.
A pained cry threatened to spill from my lips, but I bit my tongue hard and held it in.
One step. Another. The tree loomed before me, its arms shifting and swaying in harsh, disjointed twitches.
I wondered if it sensed me coming. I wondered if it knew.
A high-pitched scream rent the air, and I looked back to see Seville and Kara tumble out of the mirage.
Seville had fashioned a wooden thorn and run it through Kara’s side.
Blood wept from the wound and pooled across her clothing.
But Seville was far from uninjured. Gashes lined her own arms and legs, and her cheek was split from her jaw to her temple.
Her frantic eyes scoured the area until they landed on me.
And then Zeverin struck. He re-formed his whips and sent them both toward Seville.
Her howl crested above the battle as two snakelike flames wrapped her thighs and burned away at her clothes.
The biting odor of burned flesh singed the air.
The withered grass surrounding her and Kara lit within seconds.
Adrenaline raced through me, chasing away my pain, and I made a move to run toward her.
But her gaze locked with mine for a beat. She shook her head once.
Go. She didn’t have to say it for me to know what she wanted.
Rorik charged Zeverin and drove his elongated nails into his rib cage, spearing him like meat and lifting him upward. Rivers of red flowed over his hands and down his forearms. His father’s blood.
“You’ll never touch her again,” he snarled.
“They are both mine,” Zeverin screamed. He brought his palms to Rorik’s wrists and coaxed fire to life between his fingers.
Rorik hissed as he retracted his hands from Zeverin’s chest. Hungry flames devoured the lawns, and more Evers were shrieking and begging Zeverin to stop. He heard none of their pleas.
I collapsed before the massive ancestor tree and stared at the gnarled writhing trunk.
Shivers raced across the leathery skin of countless deceased Embergraves.
Bones cracked and splintered. The hair-raising scrape of battered nails digging into flesh filled my ears.
Flashbacks exploded in my mind of the night I’d been pinned to a tree just like this.
Of the horrendous feel of limbs dislocating and popping just to snare me in place.
It sounded so much like this. Nausea roiled through my stomach.
My throat tightened. Dots bloomed across my vision.
I didn’t want to touch this tree. I didn’t want to get caught yet again. I didn’t . . .
For Seville. For Rorik. For me. Swallowing the bile gathering at the back of my throat, I thrust my hands forward and grasped what appeared to be shins from two different descendants.
They quaked beneath my touch, and arms unfurled from the massive trunk to trap me in place.
But before they could reach down and snatch me, I ignited my Fernglove magic.
I thought only of Rorik. Of the beautiful gift he’d given me by asking me to be his heartbond.
I thought of all our fights, of our banter, of the way he’d chased me through the woods and how his laughter carried all the way to the tops of the pines.
I thought about his unwavering determination, how he did everything to make it possible for me to live; how, even when he disagreed with my choices, he still supported me entirely.
Rorik gave me life. And I would use that life to give his magic form. A burst of green particles exploded from my fingers and showered the bark of the tree. Hands outstretched just inches from my body, the entire thing stilled. Not even a tremor raced through its fingered extremities.
“Please.” My whisper tasted of magic. Heady. Warm. Powerful. “I’m not trying to hurt you. I need your help. I know how to stop the blight, but I need your weapon.”
For a moment, nothing happened. And then the soil just before my knees began to churn on itself.
Knock-kneed legs snapped and dislocated to reveal a cavern right at the base of the tree.
It widened until the limbs couldn’t shatter any further, and inside was a lone, slender forearm and delicate hand with clawlike nails, its fingers blackened past the second knuckles.
And it gripped a blade. Not just any blade.
But a blade devoid of life and color, darker than the depths of night.
Just like the lore surrounding Rebellyn.
The wrist snapped at an awkward angle, inching the weapon closer to me, but its fingers didn’t loosen.
“Please,” I tried again.
Nothing. Not even a shiver through its aged, decaying skin.
“I’ll save your kin. I promise,” I said, praying Rebellyn heard every ounce of conviction in my tone. The words seemed to burn against my tongue, and then its fingers unfurled from the hilt. The blade sat perfectly still in its open palm.
I hadn’t realized what I’d done until after I’d spoken.
Invisible chains wrapped around my arms and left an icy kiss against my skin, and with it the suffocating scent of smoke.
Particles of red—like Zeverin’s magic—sparked in the air around me for a moment before dispersing to nothing.
The First, it seemed, could enact an evervow even beyond the grave.
Such was the power of her magic. And now, if I didn’t save Everkind, I would suffer the consequences.
The magic left in a rush, and the tree resealed as I stared at the weapon.
It was as long as my forearm and hypnotically dark.
If I stared into the black void of the blade long enough, I feared I’d slip into the abyss and never return.
As I found my footing and once again began searching for a way out, an agonizing howl shook the air.
Both Seville and Kara were nowhere to be found, but the weapon Seville had used was left behind in a puddle of blood.
Zeverin had abandoned his whips and managed to wrap his arms around Rorik’s torso.
And ignited himself.