Chapter 91
Ellowyn
Until the day I die, I will remember the absolutely terrified look on Torin’s face. My petty rage at his disappearance evaporated in an instant when I saw the widening of his eyes and the shake of his hands.
The former general of the Last Keeper’s army, the king of the rebellion, a godling—if Faylinn’s assumptions were correct—was afraid of what would happen if Solace or Kaos caught me.
Something traitorous and forbidden warmed my heart—he feared for me.
Not for himself.
Not for the lives of the rebels he so carefully cultivated and trained.
For me.
Aside from my brother, he was the only one who had ever worn that expression, had ever put my safety first.
So when he told me to run, I didn’t think twice.
I simply ducked my chin to my chest and sprinted away from the front line as fast as my feet would carry me.
Leal, Talamh, and Tine were in hot pursuit, each of us leaping over the bodies of the fallen and dodging the active fighting happening around us.
I got hit with a wayward water wave, the remnants of the attack sweeping me momentarily from my feet, and I hit the bloodied concrete with an audible smack, my head bouncing off the unforgiving surface.
I lay still for a moment, my ears ringing with the telltale feeling of blood seeping from a wound in my forehead, and tried to get my bearings.
Only, I opened my eyes to stare into the lifeless orbs of a young cadet.
Her eyes stared unseeing, her throat slashed, blood still oozing slowly from the wound.
Gasping, I scrambled away from her corpse, only to lose my grip again, the dark pool of blood underneath me causing my limbs to slip and slide.
Fuck. Fuck.
I didn’t know her well, but we worked together a few times when first learning to control our magics.
She was young—forcibly Awakened at the age of seventeen—and my heart hurt for her, but I couldn’t let the pain occupy any of my thoughts.
If I did, I was sure I’d succumb to the emotions roiling just beneath the surface.
If that happened, I was worse than dead.
I pushed hastily to a stand, tripping over my feet as Tine grabbed beneath my arms and hauled me upright.
“We have to keep moving, Ellowyn!” There was fear dripping in every word, and I squinted to hear him better, the ringing in my ears almost too loud to hear anything else.
“Watch out!” Leal screamed, her loud exclamation punching through the haziness of my thoughts.
Tine’s face was ghostly white, but his mouth was set in grim determination, pushing me to the ground once more with little fanfare. My shoulder and elbow struck the unforgiving stone, and my breath left my body from the impact.
My gaze never left his as I tried to comprehend why he’d shoved me back onto the bloody ground.
Tine’s eyes widened slightly, fear and acceptance lighting his laughing blue orbs, before he was struck in the chest by a fireball no bigger than my fist. It punctured straight through his chest, leaving a smoldering hole in its wake.
He choked once, a rattling breath escaping his surprised lips, before he crumpled feet from me to the ground like a marionette without its strings.
“TINE!” I heard his twin scream from somewhere to my right, disbelief and pain lancing through his call.
I threw myself prone to the ground, chest sliding through the congealing pool of blood, and crawled my way to his body, arm-over-arm. Scrambling, I pushed Tine’s body so his back was flush with the ground, exposing the wound.
“No, no, no, no,” I muttered as I examined the hole with shaky hands.
The fireball was well placed—a shot directly where my heart would have been if Tine hadn’t shoved me to the ground first. I felt, more than saw, an Air Shield pop into place above our bodies.
A small blessing as further magical attacks suddenly peppered the space above us.
I worked quickly to rip the singed shirt from his torso, trying in vain to ignore the still-smoking fabric around the wound site.
“I’m a Creation Mage, I can fix this,” I mumbled in an attempt to distract myself from what I was seeing.
The fireball had gone straight through his body—from this angle, I could see the blackened stone below.
There was no blood; the heat had cauterized the wound as it entered and exited, but the placement of the strike was too precise.
I tore my eyes from the wound, desperately searching for signs of life.
Tine’s skin was even paler than usual, his chest alarmingly still. Even though I knew what his body was telling me, I refused to believe that he was dead. That he’d sacrificed himself for me.
“Fuck,” I swore, channeling my Creation Magic into his lifeless body, willing him to wake.
“Come on. Please. Wake up and give me shit. Tell an inappropriate joke about a penis hat. You can’t leave your brother, he needs his other half.
And what about Leal? You’re together now.
I didn’t think you a coward to leave her behind. ”
I didn’t even know what I was saying, incoherent mumblings passing my lips as I tried without success to get my Creation Magic to attach to something living inside.
There was nothing.
Each time I channeled, it sputtered and died, the bright-green tendrils never even reaching his chest cavity.
“Tine! Wake up! Please, wake up!” Talamh slid into the Air Shield, the surface of it shuddering and nearly dying before catching once more.
I saw Leal off to the side, protected by a contingent of our Mages as her sweat from the effort of holding our shield for so long mixed with the tears on her face.
It was clear that she was almost at the end of her magic, her crystals almost drained.
Fuck. The battle had just begun.
Though the slowly lightening sky told a different story.
Talamh’s sob tore me from my thoughts as I saw him bend over his brother’s body, clutching Tine’s chest to his face. Both of their forms shuddered with the force of Talamh’s grief, Tine’s head and arms flopping listlessly as his twin shook him.
“Why? We were supposed to do this together, you idiot. Now you’ve gone somewhere I can’t follow.” His voice cracked at the admission, and I awkwardly patted his back in comfort. There was time to grieve, but it was not right now.
A quick glance over my shoulder showed the rapidly approaching gods’ army, their Mages and Vessels making relatively quick work of the shoddy front line that was hastily scraped together.
A burst of bright fire, followed by a thick, green vine, drew my attention down the line, and my heart leaped at the sight of Torin fighting side-by-side with the Academy Mages, barely restrained savagery written in every inch of his expression.
But he was tiring.
It was clear in his posture and in the ferociousness of his attacks. At one point, he stumbled when a Mage-less Vessel was able to score a thin slice to his cheek.
I hissed involuntarily; the sight of Torin injured igniting some primal, protective instinct deep within me.
That one will die.
My hand gripped Talamh’s shoulder, and I pulled him away from the body of his brother. He screamed obscenities at me and tried to scramble back.
“Let me die with him, let me die,” he sobbed, and I shook him slightly, bringing his face to my own.
“That is not what Tine would have wanted. I know you’re consumed by grief right now, but if we don’t move, we will all die,” I hissed. “Leal’s magic is faltering. We have seconds before this shield collapses and we’re forced to face that.” I pointed at the horde.
As if to punctuate my words, the shield flickered and died.
“I’m sorry, Ellowyn. I’m tapped,” Leal called, exhaustion heavy in her voice.
“Go. Stand with Leal behind the line of Mages. See what you can do to help them. They very well may be our last line of defense,” I said grimly as I shoved Talamh in their general direction.
His glare was nothing short of murderous, not happy to leave behind his brother’s body.
“That’s an order,” I growled, and he finally listened, sluggishly pulling himself toward Leal.
A buzz settled suddenly under my skin, pulling my gaze away from the group of Mages and back to the front lines.
Time seemed to still, magic flying through the air in slow motion, the world around me stilling and growing silent until all I could see were two figures striding through the carnage. The battle seemed to bend around them, never coming close to touching their godly skin.
My lips curled back in a snarl as I pulled on both of my magics at once.
I pushed heavily to my feet, exhaustion pulling at every muscle and bone in my body, but I was unwilling to give up yet.
All around me, Mages and Vessels from the Academy and the rebellion lay dead or dying—cadets I’d trained with stared at the sun rising over Vespera with unseeing eyes.
Boys and girls too young to be here, dead before they could even Awaken and defend themselves properly.
It was a disgrace to the very nature of our existence.
And I turned my hate-filled eyes on the two responsible.
Solace strode confidently through the courtyard, her whiteness nearly blinding, with a smug grin etched on her stupidly perfect face. Her brother, Kaos, stood a few paces behind her, the shadow to her light.
They were the reason so many were dead and so many more would die.
They were the reason I couldn’t just live in peace.
I snarled, anger coursing hot in my veins, before striding purposefully toward the approaching gods. I batted away feeble attacks as if they were nothing, my magic operating almost on unconscious autopilot. As if it knew exactly what to do to protect me.
Kaos stopped suddenly, wary eyes assessing me and the destruction I’d left in my wake.
Fine. I’ll take his sister then.
After all, only a god can kill a god.
“Solace!” I called. The goddess halted her steps before her grin stretched terrifyingly wide.
“Mage,” she intoned as she shot an ice arrow straight for my heart.
Instantly, a tendril of Destruction Magic snuck out and disintegrated the ice before it could even get close.
The goddess narrowed her eyes and cocked her head to the side before changing tactics.
She formed the rough shape of a sphere with her hands, wisps of white mist gathering between her palms, before opening them and exhaling gently.
Slowly, the ball of white mist floated across the courtyard, its direction clear. Without thought, I held up my right palm and my Creation Magic burst forth, dispelling the mists just as they started to become corporeal.
“Impossible,” I heard Solace hiss, her infinite voice bouncing from all directions.
Mages and Vessels on both sides of the conflict ceased their warring in favor of covering their ears.
My eyes scanned the crowd, instantly finding Torin’s honey eyes wide with fear.
Mouth agape, he seemed to reach for me, but he would be too late.
This was my fight now.
“It seems my brother has kept secrets from me,” she purred. “No matter. I shall kill you just as I murdered your predecessor. Then the magic you possess will respond fully to me.”
“You can try, Solace,” I called, my voice much steadier and more confident than I felt. A feral grin ripped across Solace’s face.
“Oh, I will love bathing in your blood, little goddess,” she cackled before unleashing a bolt of ice straight for my heart again. I barely had time to block it before a windstorm swept me off my feet and carried me closer to her.
Scrambling, I pushed my Creation Magic to create a vine that attached to the ground, hastily pulling me from her magic’s clutches.
My heart pounded in my chest as a wave of water enveloped me, nearly stealing my breath.
The wave was over just as it began, and I emerged exhausted, soaked, and sputtering for breath.
Rain and lightning fell from the sky next, and I hastily created a structure from the fallen Academy stones just as lightning struck in quick succession, making my hair stand on end from the electric force.
The realization came quick—I was no match for Solace, so far out of my depth that it was almost comical. Fear like I’d never known before crawled up my throat and constricted my airways.
I was going to die here. The realization hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was exhausted from fighting so long already tonight, my magic dwindling and sputtering even as I tried to call forth a tendril of Destruction.
It snaked toward Solace before she unceremoniously dispersed it with a wave of her hand and a blast of air.
Fuck. I panted, shivering, and desperately trying to gather my wits.
“Fool.” She strode closer to my small hideout. “Did you really think you could best me?”
I said nothing, simply stared into her pure white orbs, hoping I pushed all the malice and hate possible into one look. If this was to be my death, I would stare at it with my head held high.
In another moment, Solace blew another cloud of white mist at my face, and instantly, I was engulfed in visions. Of my past, of my present, of the future. The emotions were so intense, the scenes so vivid, that I had a hard time distinguishing between reality and fiction.
“And now, little goddess, surrounded by all of your mistakes and shortcomings”—the visions flashed to show me killing Finian and sentencing Peytor to the mines over and over again—“you will die.”
I held my breath and braced for the killing blow.
But it never came.
Instead, strong arms wrapped around my torso and pulled me back into an impossibly hard chest. The smell of leather and burned forests enveloped me just as the unknown male put his mouth to my ear.
“Hang on, godling. It’s not over yet.”
Then, I was swallowed by darkness.