89. THE SUMMONS
Roirdan’s blood-soaked leathers bit into my cheek as I gulped down harsh breaths and tried to calm myself.
I’d screamed my throat bloody—or so it felt like.
The commander had weathered my screams, even as they became hysterics.
He’d taken every pound of my fists against his chest, and remained steadfast through every ragged sob as my anger slipped into sorrow.
And then, he held me as I momentarily lost myself to it all.
He gripped my face in his hands and pressed his forehead to mine. “Breathe,” he told me.
I did as he said, savoring each breath and letting it fill the hollow space that was left in my chest. I stayed there for a few minutes until all the pressure had eased from my head, and my heart had calmed.
When I leaned back and lifted my eyes to his, I found nothing but understanding and respect staring back at me.
There was so much I wanted to say, but I couldn’t find the words.
His green eyes moved back and forth between mine. “I know,” he said, nodding. He understood.
“Did I scare you?” Because I certainly scared myself.
“You surprised me.”
My brows pinched in question. “How so?”
“You held control over your power. You didn’t let it overcome you.”
I shook my head. “I . . .” The images of those bodies played before me in my mind again, broken and aglow and utterly desecrated. A shudder rocked through me. “I almost lost it.”
“But you didn’t. You held onto yourself, and you pulled back. Not everyone has that type of control. And the fact that you did it with the amount of power you possess says even more.”
I did not disagree with him. But it still did not feel like an accomplishment to be proud of. “I don’t ever want to feel that way again.”
Roirdan nodded and sighed. “Pain often has a way of showing us the darker side of ourselves. But that isn’t who we truly are. It just reminds us that there’s something we care about. Something worth living for.”
Something worth living for. Yes.
I turned and looked back over my shoulder toward the battlefield, which now seemed so far away. There was a ridge between where we stood and the chaos that was no doubt still ensuing beyond. “We need to get back. The others need—”
My words were cut short as pain lacerated across my skull. My knees buckled and gave out beneath me.
Just like the dreams I had been having, the pain sliced through my head with razor sharp precision as Lyceius’s essence slithered along the wall in my mind. Black, clawed fingertips scraped their way down the white stone, and the sound was deafening.
I lashed out at him in warning, my essence rising to the forefront of my mental shield and staking claim.
His slow laugh echoed in a taunting tune, claws retracting and then settling at the edge of the wall, waiting with unnerving stillness.
Come to me. His voice raked against my bones.
In my mind, I remained still, but my physical body was hunched over itself in the dirt, struggling, gripping at my head. Roirdan’s voice was far away, calling my name, but I couldn’t get back to him.
Come to me, Lyceius repeated.
A scene appeared in my mind—a hillside, strewn with rock, overlooking the carnage of the war below. The single twisted husk of a great oak tree rose from the barren land, and next to it, was the fallen god, hand outstretched and beckoning.
Come and face your fears.
My essence recoiled from the mere sound of his voice, but I knew that I had to face him. He was finally showing himself, and I could not waste another minute while innocent and noble lives were being lost.
I would go. I would end him.
As you wish, I said in a growl, then thrust my power toward him, snapping it like a whip and expelling him from my mind. When I opened my eyes, Roirdan was on his knees in front of me, shaking my shoulders.
Our stares collided and he cursed. “Bloody fucking gods, Auren! What was that?”
“Lyceius,” I said, blinking away the haze of the vision.
Roirdan tensed, then helped me stand.
“He summoned me,” I said.
“Summoned you where?”
I looked back over my shoulder again, feeling a pull toward the west. “You need to get back and rally the others.”
“Auren . . . where did he summon you?”
“To face him.”
Roirdan grabbed my arm and immediately protested. “No. You’re not going alone.”
“I have to, Roir. I have to end this. We knew this was the plan from the beginning. It was coming regardless.” I paused, meeting his eyes. “Too many have died.”
Hurt flashed in his eyes. He knew of whom I meant.
“Find Niall and Silas. Tell them what happened.”
Roirdan stepped toward me, his grip tightening. “Let me go with you.”
I placed my hand over his. “No. I won’t let anyone else sacrifice themselves for me.” He opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. “No one else, Roirdan. Not even you. That’s an order.”
The muscles in his jaw flexed as he worked them, fighting his instincts. Then, he nodded firmly.
“Thank you.” I gave him a small smile and pulled him in, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Don’t you start thanking me,” he murmured into my hair. “I will fight for you and at your side, always. Until my dying day.”
“But that day is not today,” I said, squeezing him tight before letting go. “Now, go. I will see you again soon.”
He dipped his chin. “As you command, little one.” He winked, then ported.
Silas, I called out in my mind.
His answer was immediate. Where are you!?
Roirdan is coming to you right now. Listen to what he says, and then I need you to bring Niall, and meet me at the tree on the hill. You know the one.
There was a brief pause. Auren, what’s—
The tree on the hill, Silas. Wait for Roirdan, then port, and bring Niall with you. Do you understand?
Yes. There was so much more he wanted to say—I could practically feel it—but the connection went quiet.
I wanted to cry all over again, because Remic had been the only other being who knew the place I spoke of. And Silas was about to find out what had happened to him, why he wouldn’t be joining us.
I breathed in the warm gust of air that blew against my face as I turned toward the west. When my lungs were full, and my mind was focused again, I closed my eyes, pictured the lone tree on the hill, and vanished.
I materialized exactly where I meant to—at the base of the charred, petrified remains of what was once a great oak tree.
It stood tall and proud, even in death, like it had refused to accept the finality of it all those years ago.
Its bark was as dark as the night sky, splintered and cracked, its limbs stretching downward, forever frozen, as if weeping for the land around it.
The sounds came into focus next. The echoing clash of blades and shields, the cries of every warrior’s victory, the screech of death’s stinging kiss, the thud of bodies—fae and creature alike—clattering to the ground, one after another .
. . Each torturous sound grew louder as I turned and beheld . . .
Destruction. Pure destruction.
The radius that Niall’s shadowfire had carved across the landscape was no longer blackened earth and ash.
It was bathed over in fresh blood and countless bodies, alive and dead, as the fae continued to hold Calledan’s border against the endless droves of Lyceius’s monsters.
The bodies were piled two to three corpses thick in some places, and the fae were fighting atop their fallen brethren.
Boots slid against chestplates and stomped over mangled faces as countless brave warriors flung their power and might at the enemy.
But our forces were dwindling, our lines were scattered, and evil continued to pour over the land with no sign of stopping.
In the center of the battle, a flame flared to life, burning like a beacon—red hot and blazing.
Fiery red hair flowed behind it. Maeson wielded her power against several keres as they launched in her direction.
I could practically hear her powerful yell as she unleashed her wrath, turning her enemies to cinders within seconds.
Nearby, Aremis and his Aether pulsed through the battlefield, a blur of power that no enemy saw coming.
My eyes snagged on Laurent, who was wielding a massive funnel of swirling wind and dust, wiping away dozens of venomous cat-like creatures. Circling him, Senna was a beam of blue, darting through Lyceius’s ranks and freezing bodies to stone.
The Dionachs were scattered throughout the expanse. Wings in every shade of white, gray, brown, and black were now crusted with blood and gore and dirt. What hurt the most was seeing the wings that now lay motionless throughout the plains, and all the lifeless faces that stared up at the sky.
The cries of agony and the roars of warriors making their stand wrapped around me like a noose. My breathing came in shallow gulps as I pictured Remic’s face, the fear of the final sting of death falling over his features as he faded from this world.
Then, I felt the atmosphere change. It quivered with a sudden energy, making the hair on my arms stand on end. Just as I turned, a void opened not thirty feet away, and Lyceius stepped through it.
His stare pierced into me, like he could see my soul with those churning, silver eyes.
The armor across his shoulders gleamed in the sunlight—silver, to match his eyes and hair. His long, black cloak rustled behind him like a phantom that clung to his shoulders, waiting to strike.
“It’s about time you showed yourself,” I seethed.
A hint of amusement flickered in his features. “If you had given yourself over to me days ago, we could have avoided all of this.” He gestured to the valley of death at my back. “This is the path you chose, daughter—”
“Don’t call me that!” I spat. “I am not and will never be that!”
He bristled, as if I’d physically struck him. “You cannot deny your heritage; you cannot run from it. You are just as much from me as you are tainted by Karios’s blood.”
“I’m afraid you have that backwards. Yours is the blood I’m tainted with. And it is a bloodline I will only claim for the sake of banishing you from existence.”