“There are no second chances for cursed. You brought the scourge upon our walls!” The man snarls and lunges as the others pour through the door. Two go right for Lucan, and two more advance toward me. I hold up my hands.
“We demand cruelty,” I repeat, shaking my head. “Show no mercy!”
But they don’t hear me. Flashes of silver. What was the point of fending off the scourge if I’m just going to die by their blades?
No. I refuse. “Please, let us explain.”
“We will not poison our ears with the words of a dragon cursed,” one shouts.
They each take a step apart and draw back their blades, readying attacks. My heart hammers. My hands tremble. Is this it? Is this all I’ll amount to? Just when I’ve finally managed to do something monumental with Etherlight, they’re going to kill me?
No. All my life, I’ve rolled over and given in. I’m not giving up now. I’m going to prove Lucan right—death isn’t ready for us.
“I am Valor Reborn,” I say with as much conviction as I can summon. “Stay back.”
“You are like any other cursed, and you will die before you bring further harm to our city.”
They lunge.
And something breaks inside me—not a crack, but a collapse, like a tower finally falling under its own weight. My life was never mine after the attack at twelve. Every meal chosen. Every hour dictated. Every order obeyed, even when my body shook and begged to stop. Stand longer. Train harder. Or suffer.
Day after day, I’ve buried my own voice, pressed it into a hollow inside my chest, an ember smothered and starved.
No. More.
My hands tremble as that ember ignites, stealing the breath from my lungs as it sweeps through me. The Creed has stolen six years of my life. They will not take my death.
My heart is a drum, beating so fast I can’t breathe. But I don’t care. Fury rises unbidden—a flood of heat and light. If I don’t release it now, it will consume me.
I lift my hands. All the years of silence, of bending under someone else’s will, tear free like invisible shackles snapping. Useless to ever hold me again.
Fire arcs.
Screams pierce the air as flames shoot from my palms towardthe knights, sending them scattering.
I stagger, slamming into the wall, but I manage to keep myself upright with nothing more than a hand for support. My fingers find purchase in the stone, and I remain on my feet.
“I don’t think you heard me.” Despite gasping for air, my voice is steady. Not a single word cracks. “I am Isola Thaz, Valor Reborn, savior of Vinguard, and Icommandyou: show no mercy.”
30
To my amazement, the knights step back. Even as a rush of nerves has me fighting shivers, my stance is strong, my skin doesn’t crawl, my pulse is even and steady.
The knights all stare at me, open-mouthed. None of them are seriously injured. A few scorched capes. Burned cheeks that are paid no mind. These folks are accustomed to worse.
My gaze finds Lucan. The tightness in my chest loosens at the sight of him unhurt—and loosens more when I catch the pride burning in his eyes. Heat rushes to my cheeks, and I look away before a flush can settle there.
I straighten away from the wall, even though my knees threaten to give out, attempting to project strength. My head spins. It’s like something—or someone—else took over and spoke for me. As if here, in this scourge-encrusted room, I truly became Valor.
“The prophecy—” One of the men who was just lunging for me sinks to his knees.
“She must be… She truly is…”
A woman speaks for them all. “Valor Reborn has truly returned.”
The man who was first into the room looks between Lucan and me. His eyes narrow. I can almost feel him wanting to believe. Knowing that no dragon cursed has ever commanded flame—at least not in any storiesI’veever heard. But judging from the sheen of Etherlight that covers his armor, he’s of higher rank than the rest of them.
So I’m not surprised when he says, “There are ways this must be handled. Take them for interrogation.”
