Chapter 62
My legs burned as I pushed faster than ever. At the corner, I launched into the air, using the wall as a springboard to propel myself left. A breathless laugh escaped me as I flew down the empty hallway.
“I’m here!” I called out to Fallon.
A dragon’s sharp trill echoed through the sky, then cut off abruptly as I dove headfirst into the bookshelf—vanishing as it dissolved around me. I summoned heatless flames to hover above me, their soft glow lighting the hidden corridor as I ran.
Sliding to a stop beneath the arched doorway, I tried to steady my breath. It was eerily silent. The pedestal of runes sat dormant—no light, no arcanial pull, no hum of magic like before.
I circled it, my mind racing. Had I misunderstood the plan?
Turning back, I jogged through the corridor and burst into the open hallway, scanning for any sign of them.
Nothing.
I placed my palms on top of my head, lungs heaving as I checked each corner.
Still no one.
Outside, the dragon trilled again—deep and long, its cry edged with pain.
“I don’t understand,” I murmured, panic beginning to claw at the edges of my voice. “Fallon? Where are you all?”
Silence. My voice echoed in my mind. I hurried down the hall again, peering around the corner.
“Rhodes!” I shouted. The echo swallowed my voice.
Just as I looped back toward the entrance of the Tomb, I spotted Shayde sprinting down the opposite end of the corridor.
“Scarlet? What is it?” he called out.
We met in front of the bookshelf, both breathless.
“Where are they?” I demanded. “Why aren’t they with you?”
Shayde’s brows drew together. “They were supposed to meet you in the Tomb. I stayed back to watch the halls.”
My heart plummeted.
“No,” I breathed, shaking my head in disbelief before spinning around and rushing back into the Eternal Tomb.
“Rhodes! Fallon!” I yelled, my voice echoing off the stone as I sprinted toward the Mareki’s pedestal.
The Tomb was empty.
My throat clenched like a vise, each breath scraping against the panic rising in my chest. My heart raced so hard the world tilted, sharp pain sparking down my left arm and tingling my fingertips. I wheezed, lungs clawing for air.
And then—I looked back. The place where the Mareki Gem had shone was now only darkness. Lifeless.
Denial surged hot through me. We had done everything—everything—magic demanded since the prophecy was revealed. We bent to its every lash, shouldered every burden, all because humanity had failed it thousands of years ago.
I slammed my palms against the pedestal. “Bring them back!”
The runes etched into the obsidian pulsed with a faint light.
I squeezed my eyes shut and inhaled sharply. “I know you have them,” I hissed. “I said, bring. Them. Back!”
I reached for the four elements. Air and fire answered in a fiery cyclone around me—but earth and water remained silent. The absence of Fallon through the marekem was a hollow echo, and it hit me like a blade.
I crumpled to my knees, the emptiness in my chest unbearable.
A sharp pain pierced the left side of my chest, slicing straight through my heart.
I pressed the heel of my hand against it, trying to dull the sting.
My left arm—the one bracing me—went numb, and I barely caught myself before collapsing face-first onto the stone floor.
Breathless, I rocked back onto my heels and tilted my head toward the obsidian crystals embedded in the ceiling. And then, just like that, the fear, the worry, the ache in my chest… vanished.
A strange stillness settled over me. Not peace. Not relief. Just a hollow, haunting calm. A numbness that didn’t feel human. I could feel the heat of my fire cooling like it had before, and for a moment, I let it wash over me.
I could feel my humanity slipping, unraveling thread by thread. A quiet part of me wondered if it would be easier to just let go—to follow in the footsteps of the prophesied elementals who came before me and failed.
Maybe I didn’t have to fight myself anymore. This war in my heart was too much. Maybe I could become the enemy, become the war. Maybe I could live out whatever time I had left, walking the edges of borrowed days, until the Mareki decided I was finished.
“Hm,” I scoffed. “I think not.”
I rose from the ground, my veins thawing as fire stirred within me again. Stepping toward the pedestal, I pressed a fingertip to its edge and slowly circled it, leaving behind a glowing trail of flame. The ring of fire hissed to life in my wake, searing against the cold stone.
Once the circle was complete, I leaned over and pressed both palms to the center rune.
“You want to test me. You want to see if I’ll break like the others. But that’s where you fucked up, Mareki—because I’m not like anyone else. I took back my life. Now I’m taking back my fate. And if you think I’ll cower, if you think I’ll surrender to the darkness inside me… you’re wrong.”
The pedestal shuddered. My flames raced into the etched runes, fusing with the glowing symbols until all four blazed with light. As they converged at the center, I withdrew my hands and stepped back.
The light swirled upward, rising into the obsidian ceiling above—and then the Mareki Gem emerged, suspended in radiant energy.
A glow flared behind me. I reached into my pack and pulled out my piece of the Key. Its pages ignited with brilliant light, just as the first tome had. When the glow faded, new scripture shimmered into view, etched in a language meant for me and Fallon alone.
I slipped the Key back into its sheath and fixed my eyes on the Mareki.
“I’ll be back,” I spat.
Then I turned and stepped into the hall.
Shayde was at my side in an instant, questions tumbling from his mouth. I didn’t answer. I just kept walking. He mentioned he couldn’t feel Rhodes through their marekem. Drithan said Noemi couldn’t feel him either.
“They’re gone,” I said flatly, my voice hollow as we descended the turret stairs. “For now.”
The Great Hall was still flooded with Tyrians as we entered, but I kept my eyes forward. The enemy surged around us, and Shayde unsheathed his sword, cutting through bodies to our left and right as we moved down the main stairway, side by side.
A troop lunged for Shayde—I flicked my wrist, summoning air. His neck snapped with a crack, and he tumbled down the stairs, head twisted at a grotesque angle.
Shayde drove his blade into another’s gut just as a woman lunged at me. Another flick of my wrist. Another broken neck. She crumpled atop a growing pile of corpses.
We made our way out of the Great Hall unscathed.
Overhead, Lakota soared, unleashing fire in sweeping torrents across the battlefield as Shayde and I descended the front steps. A Tyrian charged from my right, swinging his blade and channeling weak, thorny vines to strangle me.
“Duck.” I flicked my wrist. His body dropped.
Another came from the left, aiming at Shayde.
“Duck.” Her neck snapped mid-lunge. She fell at his feet.
A troop vaulted from his horse, blade raised high as he aimed straight for me.
“Goose.” He was dead before his feet could even touch the ground.
We didn’t break stride, moving toward the battlefield where the bulk of our people fought the rest of the Tyrians. I reached deep, calling on the core of my air element, pulling every last thread of power it would give.
Then I flicked both wrists.
“Let’s play a game.”
Every Tyrian soldier in our vicinity dropped dead.