The fae cried out, forced back step by step until their backs were pressed against the temple walls. At least it was warded—no one who sought to do harm could cross into the sanctuary while the doors stood. As long as that held?—
The first blast of magic struck the temple.
Lines of light raced through the foundation, wards flaring as they pulled on ancient power to repel the attack. For a moment, Corwin dared to hope they would hold, desperate to believe that, even outnumbered and outfought, they could still protect their dead.
But then the Commander raised his grisly staff overhead a second time, striking it against the ground. Power broke free with a clap like thunder. The doors groaned under the force of it—then cracked down the center, fractures spreading like lightning across the carved reliefs of fae kings and queens.
Corwin staggered backward as stone split, huge chunks crashing to the floor in a thunder of dust and debris. Moonlight speared through the haze, illuminating the sacred heart of the temple—and beyond it, the door leading down to the crypt.
To Lysa.
Dara’elhowled. A scream of fury and grief.
“Corwin—” Elric grabbed his arm, hissing in pain as theshadows sliced across his palm. “We have to fall back now. You can’t?—”
“They’ll defile her tomb.” Corwin didn’t even recognize his own voice, his throat raw as if he had been the one screaming this entire time. “Just like they have defiled everything else.”
“You have to think of the living,” Elric said, gripping him harder, shaking him. “Think of Eloria—of Loren. Thorne is still out there searching for him. We can’t abandon them. Wecan’t.” His voice cracked. “Lysa wouldn’t want that.”
Eloria—Loren. Was Loren even alive? For a heartbeat, something inside Corwin bent. Lysa wouldalwayschoose their children over herself.
But then the Commander stepped through the settling dust, his sharp gaze snapping to where Corwin and Elric stood withdara’elstriking out in fury as it raged around them. He didn’t speak as he raised that staff, his eyes meeting Corwin’s as he pointed it straight at them.
NO.
The word tore through Corwin’s mind like a thunderclap, sending him to his knees asdara’elcried out in a single, deafening voice. A sound rose in his throat, too raw to be a scream and too feral to be a word as something inside himsnapped.
And the shadows erupted.
Dara’elripped free, surging forward in a maelstrom that poured across the field in an unrelenting tide of death and destruction. The Commander’s eyes widened as it reached him. His cry was lost in the cacophony—one scream among hundreds, blurred beyond recognition.
Corwin staggered forward, the shadows parting to let him pass. Ahead of him, a New Dominion mage raised his staff, his lips moving in a desperate incantation—but the words never left his throat as the shadows ripped his heart from his chest.
To Corwin’s left, a fae warrior stumbled, aether crackling weakly at his fingertips as the darkness reached for him too. His last breathwas a shuddering gasp as the shadows coiled around his limbs, dragging him under.
There was no mercy. Fae or human, friend or foe—it didn’t matter. The darkness claimed them all.
Corwin moved as if in a dream, passing bodies he couldn’t bear to look at. Faces he knew. Warriors who had fought beside him for decades, their armor torn open like paper. Their hands frozen in the moment before death—reaching for help that never came.
“Corwinth—” Elric staggered through the shadows, wincing as they hissed and recoiled, striking him even now. Dark welts burned across his arms and throat, blood seeping through the rents in his tunic. He stumbled to Corwin’s side, breath coming in short, pained gasps.
“Stop them,” he begged. “Please—stop them. They’re killing all of us.”
I can’t.Corwin shook his head, the words lodging like glass in his throat as he stared at his best friend.Dara’elno longer answered to him. It was past command, past reason. All that was left was rage and ruin, and he had set it free.
Elric’s face broke as the shadows curled around him, his lips moving to form his son’s name one last time as they consumed him too.
And then Corwin stood alone in the aftermath, each ragged inhale dragging through his lungs like a blade. Shadows slid over the bodies, coiling through the broken remains of fae and human alike—discarded by dara’el like spent offerings. Their movements were slow and uncertain, as though even they did not know what to do now that everything was gone.
The New Dominion hadn’t conquered Eluneth, but the fae hadn’t saved it, either. This wasn’t a victory—it wasn’t even a defeat. It was annihilation.
Corwin let out a shaking breath, staring down at his hands. They were clean—unmarked. There should have been blood—somethingto condemn him for what he had done. But the darkness left nothing behind.
His knees buckled. Corwin didn’t even try to catch himself, collapsing onto the cold earth and curling his fingers into the dirt—seeking something solid in a world that had become nothing but mist and shadow. His crown sat heavy on his head, its once-polished silver dulled by war, sweat, and blood.
He had done this—killed them all.
Corwin’s breath caught on an exhale that was half laughter, half sob. The shadows coiled at his back, curling over his shoulders, twisting into the edges of his vision as they whispered to him with a hundred different voices, all speaking at once. Soft. Coaxing. Waiting.
