"Damon..." I try to call, but the word emerges as a broken whisper, my vocal cords ravaged.
Behind me, the sounds of battle rage—the crack of splintering trees, the boom of thunder, the sizzle of magic in the air. But it's all distant, muffled, drowned out by the pounding of my heart in my ears as I drag myself towards my brother's still form.
I reach him at last, falling to my knees beside him, my hands shaking as I press them to his chest. I close my eyes, reaching deep within myself for that well of power, that spark of life that brought Emily back from the brink. I focus through the pain, the grief, the soul-shattering loss, pouring everything I have into the unmoving body beneath my hands.
But there's nothing.
No answering flicker of life, no surge of healing energy. Just a yawning void where my power should be.
"Dani!" Emily's scream pierces the haze of my concentration, but I ignore her, refusing to break the connection, to give up on the only family I have left.
It's not working.
No. Please.I beg silently, my heart shattering with every second that passes. Please, bring him back. Please don't do this to me. It's not fair. Why him? Why now?
I slam my fists against Damon's chest, desperation giving way to rage. "No! Damnit! You can't do this to me. It's not fair! WHY?!" I scream at the uncaring heavens, my voice raw and broken.
This stupid fucking stone is worthless!
"Seraphina!" I scream, my voice tearing from my throat. She's beside me instantly, her golden eyes wide with urgency.
"Help me. My stone... it's not working... you have to get it to work, please!" I beg, my hands trembling as I hold my lifeless brother.
Seraphina glances at the stone, then back to me, her eyes swimming with sadness I can't afford to see right now. I need her to fucking fix this. "Dani... I can't. It's too late. He's—"
"No." I shake my head violently, sobs ripping from my chest. Hot tears are cascading down my cheeks. "No, Seraphina. It's not too late—Help me!"
Tears spill down her face, her voice breaking, "Dani, listen to me. The stone chooses. It's not working because he's—"
Suddenly, I'm tackled and lifted off the ground, the world spinning as solid arms wrap around my waist. Out of the corner of my eye, I see flames erupting where I had been kneeling just moments before, the intense heat scorching my skin even from afar.
I glance back and see Seraphina, her wings encasing her like a cocoon, shielding her from the inferno.
Lucian looks down at me, Damon's lifeless body cradled in his other arm. "Dani, you need to wake the fuck up and get back in this. Look around."
I blink slowly, the fog of grief and desperation receding just enough for me to take in the scene unfolding before me. The clearing is swarming with witches and werewolves, their eyes glowing with unholy light as they circle us like predators sizing up their prey. And in the center of it all, Rhyland and Azrael are locked in a battle that shakes the very foundations of the earth, lightning splitting the sky and thunder rattling my bones.
My grief consumed me; I was so fixated on saving Damon that I missed the fucking apocalypse unfolding before my eyes. Azrael, the conniving bastard, must have had this army waiting in the wings all along.
I turn back to Lucian, my heart shattering anew as reality sets in. "But... my brother," I choke out, clinging to that last, desperate thread of hope. "I have to save him, Lucian."
Sorrow etches deep lines on Lucian's face. "I don't think you can save him, Princess," he says softly. "But you can help your man—he needs you. We all need you."
The words hit me like a physical blow. Lucian is right. I can't save my brother, but maybe I can still save everyone else.
With a shuddering breath, I force myself to my feet. I brush a strand of hair from Damon's pale, still face, my fingers lingering on his cool skin.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, the words catching in my throat. "I'm so sorry, Damon. I failed you. But I swear on everything, I will make this right. I will make that bastard pay for what he's done."
I turn to face the chaos around me, and the scene that greets my eyes is nothing short of apocalyptic.
Emily stands at the center of a firestorm, her hands outstretched as flames dance between her fingertips. With each gesture, gouts of flame erupt from the ground, incinerating anyone foolish enough to draw near. The scent of burning flesh and hair fills the air, mingling with acrid smoke.
Nearby, vampires hurl themselves at her, only to be repelled by a shimmering wall of energy. They crumple to the ground, writhing and clawing at their heads, shrieking in agony as blood pours from their eyes and ears.
Vivienne and Alaric move through the battlefield with lethal grace. Vivienne's silver blade flashes in the moonlight, each swing precise and devastating. A feral vampire lunges at her, and without breaking stride, she brings her blade up in a vicious arc. There's a sickening squelch as steel meets flesh, followed by a spray of dark arterial blood. The vampire's head separates from its body with a wet pop.
Beside her, Alaric fights with brutal efficiency. His massive hands close around a vampire's throat, squeezing until he tears the creature's head clean off its shoulders. A fountain of blood erupts from the stump of its neck, painting Alaric's chest in a grisly crimson sheen.
