Epilogue
Wind whipped at her face as Adara flew through the sky.
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes, but she would not let them fall.
Dominic—Alecsander, whoever the Hel he was—was not worth her sadness.
He was worth nothing. She repeated this to herself, but it did nothing to soothe the ache in her heart.
She was a fool to ever believe she could make Dominic Nite love her.
He was a sadistic, heartless, lying demon.
He’d harmed the ones he got close to time and time again.
Adara was stupid for thinking things could be different for her.
Damon was right. Dominic Nite was a monster who toyed with people and tossed them aside when he was done.
That was all she was to Dominic—a means to an end. Adara knew from the beginning that he would manipulate her, that she was nothing but a gateway to power. But it still hurt to find the whole truth.
They’d known each other before.
And he’d betrayed her. For a moment, she could have believed that he actually loved her. He did love her . . . before he tossed away his heart. But even then, it was all lies.
Dominic Nite was not a lovable soul. He was a monster created in the dark and taught to claw his way out of the depths of the shadows. She intended to do the same.
Adara might have left the island, but this war was far from over. She’d get his key one way or another. That wound wouldn’t kill him. No, death was too merciful. She would not stop fighting until she got her revenge.
Wrapped protectively in her royal blue cloak and stuffed inside a satchel she’d grabbed after she left Dominic, the portal orb, eye of the Whisperer, ashes of the Ruins, and dragon scale hummed with energy. As if all the relics were as eager to forge the Realm Fracturer as she was.
Fishing into her satchel, Adara grasped the two portal orbs she’d stolen.
One, Dominic had intended for the Realm Fracturer.
She released that one, leaving it in the sack.
The other was merely a backup. It was this one that she crushed in her palm, knowing she wasn’t able to fly the weeks-long journey it would take to cross the Plagued Sea back to Malryn, nor did she have the time for that.
The dull throb in her left forearm was a constant reminder.
The jagged bits of the broken orb bit into her palm.
Magic shimmered around her, its steady hum sending tingles along her skin as it enveloped her in its embrace and transported her far from Andreilia.
Adara landed on an empty street in Lykrios. If she was going to find shadow steel anywhere, it would be here, under the queen’s suffocating reign, where the material would have happily been bought or stolen from the empire to nullify Pherra.
Another dull pang shot through her arm. Gritting her teeth, Adara peeled away her vambrace to reveal the dark numbers inked upon her arm, counting down.
Andreilia’s water made her ageless, pausing the timer to her demise.
Yet it seemed that solution was only temporary, for when it resumed, and she drank the water again before departing, it proved that the Shadow Empire was too powerful.
Perhaps the life from Dominic’s key would be a vain attempt to stop the curse as well.
However, his powers would prove useful in the war . . . if she lived long enough to fight.
She read the numbers, feeling like a knife was lodged between her ribs, twisting ever so slowly with each second that passed.
173:04:49
173 days, four hours, and forty-nine minutes. That was all the time she had to defeat the Shadow Empire before the curse killed her.
Adara was running out of time.