7. Thyra
Chapter Seven
Thyra
My world is spinning.
I’ve lost everyone I cared about.
As the silver threads I wrapped around Stellen’s wounds float up off his body and back to mine, I try to push myself upright, only to rock on the spot, my head in my hands and cries pushing at my chest.
Ugly sobs. Angry sobs.
Somehow, my braid is caught in my fingers and with it, the yellow ribbon Stellen wound so carefully into my hair, the soft material pressing to my trembling lips.
His blood is all over my hands. All over this precious ribbon.
Blood that didn’t congeal because of me.
A heart that no longer beats…
Because of me.
Rage pushes to my lips and I can’t constrain it. I roar out my pain, screaming into the cold sunlight, but nothing can ease this hurt.
All this death. All this loss. All this sorrow.
All for what?
So I can carve Stellen’s name into a rock?
I pull the knife from his chest, slipping on the ground as I force myself to my feet, fighting the uneven ground and the vines that suddenly grip my boots as I push toward the gravestone.
I stumble and slip again, the vines curling around my ankles, and when I force myself back to my feet, I leave my boots behind in the dirt, caught between the greenery.
My bare feet sink, every step heavy, as if the ground is already preparing to accept Stellen’s body into his final resting place.
Behind me, Nara gives a soft, mournful growl. Like she’s trying to tell me I don’t have to do this now.
I know I don’t.
But what else am I supposed to do?
If I don’t move… If I don’t act…
I need to move.
With another scream, I hurl myself the final step at the stone, the knife colliding with its surface, shrieking against the rock without leaving a scratch.
I have no idea how I’m going to carve Stellen’s name into this hard stone. For now, my only goal is to tip it over.
He wants his loved ones to face the sky.
Filled with mindless anger, I lower my shoulder and push on the stone’s side, struggling to understand why it’s so hard to topple—unless the side that’s sunk deep into the soil, the side into which he wants his name carved, is wider than I thought it was. Maybe sunk deeper than it appears…
Slapping the knife to my other thigh, where my armor wraps safely around it, I snarl at the rock, refusing to accept defeat.
Dropping my shoulder, I heave again.
Once more, my braid is caught in my hands.
At the last moment, the gravestone budges, its nearest bottom edge rising the slightest distance above the ground.
A shock of power bites my body.
Whoomph.
Icy energy streaks through my arms to my chest, a thump so hard, I’m knocked back a step, ending up in a crouch.
What…was that?
Nara’s yelp registers in my hearing. She’s on her feet now, backing away from the gravestone, growling fiercely.
My focus snaps to my braid.
The ribbon in my hair shivers violently, and my armor is tightening around my body. While the ribbon in my hair pulls me forward, my armor presses me backward, away from the stone, trying to make me retreat like Nara is.
I dig in my heels, my focus drawn to the base of the rock, where the smallest sliver of yellow material now pokes out.
My breath catches.
I extend my right arm—my Dragonstone Blade arm—toward the gravestone’s base.
The tips of my fingers connect.
Another shock of energy passes through me, forcing me to retract my hand, but not before the sliver of material that’s caught at the base of the gravestone slides slightly farther out.
Another yellow ribbon.
It must be the twin of the one in my hair. Stellen told me how his mother made one for both him and his little sister. He wore his in his warrior braid while Safra wrapped hers around her arm.
The wind picks up around me, casting snowflakes into the air, the edge of the second ribbon thrashing in it.
I’m struck still by the knowledge that I saw this moment in a blade vision.
I was standing in this field and my feet were bare, as they are now. This stone rested in the snow in front of me. A yellow ribbon fluttered on top of it, trying to lift into the wind.
When Stellen first brought me to this field, I remembered that vision, but I knew it wasn’t happening then because there was no yellow ribbon.
Now there is.
It’s just…
Upside down…?
In the vision, the yellow ribbon fluttered at the top of the gravestone.
I tilt my head slowly, dread rising within me because as my perspective changes… As I picture this stone turned the other way up…
I recognize it.
Oh, Stellen.
When we were in the Alak-Teah, I told him what I discovered about ending the False Queen’s curse.
I must break the Dragonstone Blade in the same way it was forged: unmade as it was made.
To do that, I need to bring together all the pieces: the hammer, the coal, a Blood Fae, since I discovered that a Blood Fae forged the blade, and lastly, I need the dragonstone anvil from which the blade took its name.
This anvil.
I saw its shape in a book called the Chronicle.
And now, here the anvil is, hiding in plain sight.
With this realization comes perilous clarity.
Stellen chose his final words to me far more carefully than I could have dreamed.
He told me to tip the gravestone over, and by trying to do so, I’ve recognized what it really is.
He also gave me a dire warning with his final truth.
He told me he’d chosen heartlessness, not to be cruel, but because his rage had become dangerous. He said he’d had to put his anger somewhere where it wouldn’t hurt another innocent fae.
I don’t know how exactly he pulled the fury from his heart, but the ribbon whose edge I can see must be the vessel into which he poured his feelings.
What will happen if I release this ribbon?
Oh, but what will happen if I don’t?
My shoulders slump, fresh tears filling my eyes, as I consider Stellen’s unmoving form.
He is one of the three kings. He’s part of my fate. He chose to bring me here, to give me the gift of the anvil instead of seeking help for himself—Damn him!
But he also made sure I wouldn’t lift the rock until he died.
Maybe he hoped the rage in the ribbon would die with him so I could remove the anvil safely from this spot.
Maybe he believed that his final peace would bring harmony to his rejected heart.
The bite of power I experienced moments ago tells me that won’t be the case.
This ribbon is dangerous, whether or not Stellen’s alive.
It also contains enough power that maybe…
Maybe…
I squeeze my eyes closed, fighting the reckless hope rising within my heart. I told Antony I would be his hope and now I am the one who needs faith. More than ever.
Exhaling my doubts, I dig in my heels, wedge my right shoulder against the gravestone, and heave.
Energy strikes through my chest and limbs, severe and biting.
Strong enough to knock me out.
At the same time, my braid jolts forward. The ribbon in my hair yanks my head toward the ground and I narrowly avoid cracking my head on the stone.
I fight to stay conscious despite the sizzling energy until suddenly, the sharp force cuts off.
I haven’t toppled the stone, but the ribbon has slipped free.
Oh, but the rest of it isn’t yellow.
Dark red. Soaked in blood that has turned so deeply crimson brown, it appears like a dark scythe spiraling upward.
The snowflakes floating toward it jolt aside as the blood-soaked ribbon rises into the air, unhurried now by the wind, gravitating toward my right hand.
I fight my instinct to step back from it as a song of breathtaking power fills the air.
At first, a melody of love and compassion and peace.
Then…
Twisting into rage and fury and a thirst for vengeance that can never be quenched.
A terrible, fearful song.
Within it, I hear Stellen’s Lethian Voice shattering his soul and stripping his heart’s feelings from his mind and body.
Dear Goddess…
I stumble back a step, my left hand pressed to my chest, my right hand dangerously outstretched as the ribbon follows me.
A terrifying force, floating closer to me with every beat of my heart.