Chapter 30
Amelia
One month later
Amelia stood on the city walls, looking down at the land beyond. It was in eternal twilight. The sky had darkened gradually, as though the darkness had seeped from the gaping chasm in the earth and begun to consume the light.
Nothing seemed real. There was no joy or laughter. Death surrounded her. The stench was overwhelming as she walked the cobbled streets littered with tents.
The fae and humans had initially remained separate. The fae had opened the gates to save the surviving soldiers, forming an uneasy truce between them.
She understood their mistrust.
More of the smoke monsters had risen from the rifts in the earth, but they were content to wait, haunting the outside of the city walls as if something was stopping them.
Amelia remembered how a scream had risen in her throat when they came close.
Their tendrils of black smoke climbed the wall before being quickly withdrawn.
They rose from the rifts, almost gliding along the earth. Their forms were all different but equally terrifying, their true shapes distorted by the smoke enveloping them.
Despite the fae’s warnings, the humans had sent out a small group to attack one of the monsters. The black smoke had instantly smothered them, and their husk-like remains stood on the ground below, in the same position they’d died.
The human army’s numbers had dwindled to a few hundred—only slightly more than the fae’s. The fae had found a few remaining supplies in the palace and shared them with the human army, but even those would soon run out.
She wove between the ruins, avoiding the sick humans. She had tried to help them, but without knowing its cause, there was nothing she could do. None of the fae were affected.
She heard their voices before she saw them.
They were fighting. Fae against human. This had happened multiple times over the past few weeks.
With so many men trapped together, especially those who had been enemies, it was bound to happen.
They had begun cooperating with each other; the shadow creatures were now their common enemy.
Tharos and General Atwood broke up the fight before the fae caused too much damage.
“Amelia!” Tharos called her over.
She respected that he was in charge, and he respected that Casyl cared for her.
“Can you patch these two up?” he asked.
She had gained the title of nurse because she possessed more anatomical knowledge than anyone else there.
She took the injured men into the palace to tend to them, with Tharos and the general following. She dealt with the human first, setting his nose and sending him on his way. He’d begun to show signs of the sickness, but there was nothing she could do for that.
The fae would heal quickly, but she needed to remove the shank that had been plunged into his side.
He removed his shirt and sat quietly as she pulled the shank from his side. The wound bled but soon began to close.
“Thank you,” he said.
“What are these?” she asked, running her fingers over the hard lumps on his side. Scars marked the flesh, yet something appeared to remain underneath.
“It’s just shrapnel from when we bombed the mine,” he said.
He’d been there with Casyl. She still woke expecting to hear his voice.
“Do they bother you?”
He shrugged. “They ache a bit, I guess.”
She wouldn’t get an honest answer about pain from a warrior. Admitting that they hurt was, to them, the same as admitting weakness.
“I’m going to remove them,” she said.
She wiped her dagger clean and made a small incision over the first lump.
He winced as the skin split. Amelia eased out a dark fragment, leaving a smear of blue residue behind. The piece of rock vibrated beneath her touch, and a streak of blue iridescence gleamed within it.
It glistened in the light.
The blue glint caught Tharos’s interest, and he approached with the general.
“What is it?” he asked.
“It’s a piece of shrapnel from the mine explosion,” she explained. “It looks as though there’s a bit of chrysonium embedded in it.” She passed it to Tharos. “Look.”
Tharos examined it cautiously as she began freeing the next fragment lodged in the warrior’s side. This piece was larger.
It came free with a wet squelch, revealing a brilliant shard of mineral that gleamed in her hand.
The fae made a strange noise from his throat.
She stepped back to look at him.
He dissolved into ash.
She screamed.
Tharos had half-drawn his sword.
Had the monsters somehow come upon them?
“What the fuck!” Tharos shouted.
Men came running, both fae and human, and watched as the warrior’s remains swirled and scattered into the air, disappearing.
“What the hell just happened?” General Atwood demanded.
No one answered him because no one knew.
Amelia still clasped the shard in her hand. Then the memory of the sick miners surfaced.
It fell from her hand to the ground as she stepped back, gasping.
“It’s the chrysonium,” she said.
They all turned to look at her.
“That’s what is keeping you alive!” she exclaimed to Tharos. “And that is what’s making them sick!”
The refined chrysonium must have been safe. Humans were surrounded by it every day—it powered most of their city. In its raw form, it was lethal. She remembered the miners and how they’d had very little protective gear.
Every fae who had survived being stranded in her world had also been injured in the mine explosion.
She put her hands to her mouth, too late. She had just given the humans knowledge of how to kill them and a reason to do so.
Tharos absently touched his arm.
Horror spread across the general’s face as he realised the fae were still killing them, even now. The Lifesource embedded in the fae was poisoning his men.
He stepped back as if they were diseased.
“You need to go. You need to leave the city,” he said.
The general backed away from them. Even with the knowledge of how to kill the fae, his weakened soldiers would stand little chance against their superior strength and skill. But he was right: the fae had to leave, or the remaining humans would die.
“I’ll prepare the men to leave,” Tharos said and left the palace.