Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200096 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1000(@200wpm)___ 800(@250wpm)___ 667(@300wpm)
“What are you?” I hiss as she prowls toward me, not waiting for an answer before blasting her in the stomach with another bolt of fire.
She crumples to the ground, only to unfold a moment later.
I gasp.
She’s morphed into the spitting image of Elijah, save for her vertical irises. “Sofie, my love,” he purrs in that deep voice, slinking closer. “Did you enjoy my visit the other night?”
Her meaning dawns on me. “How dare you play such tricks!” I knew there was something different. “How dare you pretend to be him!”
“You should thank me. I gave you a gift. A parting gift, for you will never be with him like that again.” Her gaze cuts to my left, the only warning before I hear the spine-chilling grunt. Malachi’s fire cuts off.
“Noooo!” I shriek as the daaknar sinks its fangs into Malachi—Elijah’s!—neck, its barbed claws anchored deep in his chest.
I lash out with a whip of fire.
It releases him with a roar, swinging its furious red eyes on me.
Before it can lunge, I send it back to Azo’dem with a surge of fire, and then dive for my husband’s mangled body, dismissing the battle around us. “I did not see it freed from its cage.” But who released it? “This is why I hate these demons!”
Crimson pours from a ripped artery in Elijah’s throat where the beast tore out a chunk of flesh with its fangs. But the gaping hole in his chest is far more concerning, revealing lung tissue and rib bones that will take hours to mend.
My hands shake as I attempt to stem the blood flow. “Hold still and I will fix this.” Is there any way to fix this?
I reach for my affinities.
“No, my love.” His hand clamps over mine, and soft, brown eyes peer up at me.
My breath hitches. “Elijah? Is that you?”
“Yes. He has abandoned this ruined body. As will I momentarily.”
Tears stream down my cheeks. “No, you will not. I will heal you.”
“No.” He wheezes. “No more. I cannot bear what these hands have done.”
“It was not you. It was Malachi.”
A tear slips from the corner of his eye. “And I cannot bear what you have become in my name.”
I choke on a sob. “But—”
Sharp pain explodes under my ribs. I gasp as I look down to see Elijah’s hand slip from the hilt of the cutlass he just drove into my body.
“Three hundred years. No more, my love. Let us end this together. Let us have peace.”
“But—”
“Promise me. Promise me,” he growls through gritted teeth.
“Okay.” An unexpected calm washes over me, knowing that after centuries, this is the end. I have my Elijah back, if only for a few moments.
“In Za’hala then,” he rasps.
I lean forward to kiss him. “A fool’s dream.”
His lips pull back with a smile. “A fool in love.” With one final rattling gasp, his heart stops.
I sink into his still body, pushing the blade in deeper, and let the agony turn to numbness, then to nothing, and the sounds of war around us fade away.
91
Romeria
Elisaf acts as my crutch, holding me up as we peer at the chaos below.
Sofie lies over her husband’s body, protecting him, her green ball gown a silken heap of vibrant color among steel and death.
“Is Malachi gone?” The words sound hollow, unbelievable.
“I think it is safe to assume both he and the key caster are. They have not moved in some time.”
“Who killed them?”
“I did not see the killing strike.”
Because he was picking me up off the ground where I collapsed, a split second after the wall of fire broke.
Malachi is gone and yet the Saur’goth army fights on, the ruin Malachi has brought to this world is still very real.
The cage with the daaknar sits empty. The other two remain untouched, my parents curled into balls in the center as if to get as far away from any one side and a blade that might push through.
I want to protect them. I want to go to them. But I can’t do anything. I have nothing left inside me. I can barely stand.
“Where is Zander?” I’ve lost him in the shuffle.
“There.” Elisaf points out where he fights alongside Jarek and Abarrane. A dozen legionaries and Shadows surround them.
Drakon falls with an ax in his back.
Abarrane’s left arm hangs at her side, useless.
Caindra circles them, fighting with fire. A glint of gold shines in her claws. She’s carrying Atticus, and he’s directing her to attack where it’s most concentrated. He’s trying to help.
But it’s not enough.
“There are too many of them.” Our catapults fly and our dragons burn but no matter how many Saur’goths fall, more flood in to fill the void. The casters’ affinities will be depleted long before we run out of enemies to kill. “We can’t win.” The moment the words slip from my lips, my gut tells me it is the truth.