Chapter 54
Shadow had indeed taken back a massive amount of Dread Magic from her army of the undead, but that didn’t stop the tens of thousands that descended upon Aterna, scrambling their way into battle.
Shadow was nowhere to be seen as Maeve fought alongside not just Reeve and the Senshi, dismembering and setting fire to the army of undead, but the Bellator and the Elven Army.
Antony had gathered more than his pack from Heims, but a great number of wolves to aid them in their battle.
Still, they were outnumbered. Maeve was hesitant, as was Reeve, to unload their power fully, effectively setting fire to their multitude of enemies that swarmed them all across the realm. Hesitant, and rightfully so, because Shadow’s appearance was imminent.
The fleet of Morconis, their slick skin inky black against the starless sky, shrieked as they ascended like shadows of the night onto Crystalmore, their humongous claws breaching and penetrating the protective barriers.
Some flew, their torn wings flapping vigorously, across the Senshi and the Dread Magicals who fought the Dreaded Dead, biting and clawing with rabid intent.
The Senshi continued to slice through their countless enemies with blades pumped full of Aterna Magic.
The Bellator that made it out of the Dread Lands alive fought alongside them, Magic pouring from their hands in elite training.
Maeve caught a glimpse of Larliesl, commanding and leading the less experienced in battle.
But as the range of attack spanned across the realm, her sight of him was brief.
A black mass of fur whizzed past her, Antony, jaw wide as he ripped limbs and heads from torsos. She was certain that Antony and Alphard were competing, racing against a bottomless clock and thoroughly high on their bloodshed.
A piercing and sharp sound, followed by guttural snapping noises, sounded out across the sky.
Maeve’s eyes whipped to Reeve just as she sent a blast of lightning through a dozen undead.
Together, their heads whipped towards the Dark Peaks, where flecks of shimmering starlight soared across the horizon.
Not starlight.
Scales.
Demevirld had answered Reeve’s call. A hoard of Dragons with majestic bodies and regal forms lit up the distance with blue, red, and orange shades of fire, as they melted the creatures of the night below them.
The Morconis shifted their attention at once, their wings flailing madly across the frigid air, in pursuit of the dragons with bone-chilling screams.
Maeve let out a frustrated sigh, heat barreling from her palms as she disintegrated the closest Dreaded Dead within a twenty-foot radius. Reeve sensed her, his eyes moving briefly to her as she stalled, Magic prickling up her spine.
What’s wrong? Reeve’s voice was clipped in her mind.
Before she could answer, Magic split wide across the realm. It settled deep in her stomach. It crawled beneath the ice at super-speed, heading straight for the Magical barrier they had erected protecting Crystalmore.
Not it.
They.
Thousands more Dreaded Dead swarmed beneath the frozen Black Deep, heading straight for the city.
“More,” snapped Reeve, “beneath us and making for the wall!” he bellowed out at Eryx, at the Senshi and the Dread alike.
Maeve’s eyes darted far across the ice, tracking them. “They’re everywhere.”
“How could she possibly have more?” spat Alphard, wiping blood from his neck, and then shooting his palm flat, setting fire to a horde of undead that fell from a newly formed Portal.
The Magical barriers they erected cracked as more undead burst from the ice, sinking their sharp-boned fingers into the wall, and began to climb.
Blasts of fire blazed from the distance, illuminating the night as the dragons breathed down flames of destruction, each of them efficiently killing the Dreaded Dead by the hundreds at once.
Reeve could do that.
Reeve needed to transform—
Maeve’s thoughts halted, her eyes shot to the Dark Peaks, near the highest point on the planet. Judging by the narrowing of Reeve’s eyes, he felt it too.
Shadow entered the playing field at last.
Before Maeve could open her mouth, Reeve’s hand was on her, Obscuring them. Magic compressed them tightly together as the world shifted, and the snow-covered mountains surrounding Shadow came into view.
Silence settled around them, leaving a hum in her ears from the distinct change in atmosphere. The battles raging below them all across the line that separated the Dread Lands from Aterna couldn’t be seen or heard where Sanctum sat nestled high in the Dark Peaks.
Maeve stepped from Reeve, placing a few paces between them.
“I get both of you?” Shadow’s voice sounded out. “My lucky day.”
Maeve drew the sword Reeve had made for her, the one she’d scarcely used, but cherished all the same.
“You think a sword will do you any good at marking me?”
Maeve did not answer.
With a full and vocal inhale, she gathered every ounce of Aterna Magic that flowed through her, that obeyed her as its master, and poured it into the blade Reeve gifted her. She emptied herself completely, until not a drop of Aterna remained inside her.
Until it was only Shadow Magic, and the power of the Dread Stone at her disposal.
She turned her back to Shadow and gripped the hilt of her sword in both hands as she locked eyes with Reeve.
His pupils dilated, and before he could successfully Obscure to her, she slammed the sharp end down, penetrating the snow-covered earth.
Her Magic within the blade surged, creating a wall of pale-violet, almost blue, Magic.
As it encapsulated only Maeve and Shadow, Reeve’s eyes filled with anguish just on the other side.
“Maeve,” he warned, his voice slipping into anger.
“She owes me a debt, Reeve,” said Maeve calmly, releasing her fingers from the hilt of the sword. The ring of Magic she’d trapped herself inside remained. “And I will collect it.”
She could feel the satisfaction radiating from Shadow behind her. Satisfaction she’d soon squash.
“You are needed elsewhere. I am needed here,” she said.
You don’t have to do this alone, he argued.
I won’t be alone for long.
She gently pushed the image of the thousands of Dreaded Dead ascending upon Aterna, shattering their walls, his beautiful Capital City at risk of ruin.
The feeling of his people’s fear. The idea of Maxius’ future on the line.
The Vexkari markings of Reeve’s dragon curse flickered as he filled with fury, and their eyes remained locked together.
Maeve smiled softly, kindling the rage she felt surging through his breaths.
Burn them all, Reeve, she commanded, solidifying his animalistic desire.
Violet fire erupted from him as he allowed his transformation. It was different than the last time she’d seen the beast take over him. He didn’t fight his rage. He used it.
With a screech and enough force to shake the side of the mountain, Reeve rocketed into the sky, his glorious wings spread wide as he conquered, not just controlled, his beastly form.
“What a wicked curse,” remarked Shadow. “Though it seems he’s learned to use his rage at last.”
Maeve turned back to her.
“How do you expect to fight me with just Shadow Magic? I have gathered a force of Dread Magic greater than your Aterna into my veins once more, Little Vi—”
Maeve cut her words short, closing Shadow’s throat with a pulse of her Aterna Magic that surrounded them, and ensuring she didn’t utter the name that only one was allowed to call her ever again.
Two fingers extended at Maeve’s side, lightning rippling across her knuckles, wrapping her wrist. “You talk too much.”
Shadow’s toothy grin faltered, and the lines on her face hardened.
The Aterna Magic surrounding them surged with Maeve’s breath, warming her skin as small flecks of snow and ice began to gather in the air.
“I want to show you something,” said Maeve, letting her mental shields down.
Intrigue flickered across Shadow’s stolen eyes as Maeve made herself vulnerable.
“I found something of Prince Darius,” continued Maeve. “I think you’ll want to see it.”
Shadow’s reply came quickly and with a sharpened tone. “How could you possibly have a memory of his?”
“Because objects hold memory. Books, vases, paintings. . .” She held up the Dread Ring on her finger. “Jewelry.”
Shadow’s pupils widened as her eyes locked on the ring. The ring Maeve knew donned Darius’ finger during Shadow’s time with him.
“You’ve already shown me these memories,” said Shadow, deflecting. “The trick is old.”
Maeve hummed. “It’s not a trick.” A lie. “Don’t you want to see a lost moment of his before either you are sealed or you defeat me? Because either way, you’ll lose all chance at seeing him this way.”
“What way?” she snapped, but Maeve could hear the resolve in her voice, wavering, like she’d already decided to fall for Maeve’s cruelty.
And she had.
Maeve slid them both into a deception and savagery that would top the chart of her wrongdoings. As Castle Morana’s Crown’s Quarters manifested, reflecting across their shared mind-space like glass, Shadow’s beloved Prince Darius was not alone.
If Shadow had been desperately naive enough to believe Maeve had something kind to share with her, she was quickly corrected. Shadow’s Magic tensed, coiling around her protectively.
“That isn’t real,” she said darkly, her eyes trapped on Darius and the fictional woman Maeve inserted into the false memory.
“But it feels real,” hummed Maeve. “Doesn’t it?”
And she was certain, by Shadow’s tightened throat, by the way her Magic weakened, by the unmistakable feeling of helplessness that Maeve forced upon her, that it all felt real to Shadow.