The truth slams into me. I’ve gotten it all wrong.
My visions aren’t about Loegria. They’re about Namreth. They’re about this fallen kingdom, this golden city. This is where it will all end.
Am I the weapon that will bring about his fall?
The Rings of Fate will take my life, but first, I will end Namreth’s.
Looking at Aren, I understand now. I will never survive channeling the full power of the Rings. I’ve barely survived in the past, using only a fraction of their strength. I was doomed from the start, from the moment the Rings chose me at ten years old.
This is how it ends.
I must sacrifice myself to destroy Namreth.
There is no other way.
Aren stares at me, realization dawning on her face. A hint of anger, even. It’s a look that says,Don’t leave me. Don’t die, you bastard.But there’s no other choice. I have to sacrifice myself for my people.
More importantly…I’ll do it for the one person who matters most. I smile at the thought that she’ll be so mad that I chose to save her rather than myself.
The Rings are alive, their power unleashed, filling every part of me, tearing at my body from the inside.
Ifeelit.
I hold a power that even Namreth cannot match…a power that will claim his life and mine.
I meet Aren’s horrified gaze. “Return the Rings to my father,” I say, willing the Whisting carry my voice through the wind just for her. I know she hears me because she covers her mouth, and a tear rolls down her beautiful face. “I love you, Aren.”
Then, calling the Rings, I turn to face my kin, the mad king of the Waste.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Dietan
I bear the Rings of Fate.
I am the Anemoi unleashed, wielding the power of wind and air, cyclone and hurricane. The Whisting roars inside of me.
Namreth raises his arms. Our magic collides, like two stags locking horns.
Someone rushes in, grabbing Aren.Marcus? Good.She’s safe, and I can turn myself over to the Rings. My thoughts swirl like I’m underwater again. Distantly, I hear other voices. A familiar one. Jared? Is that his name? My memories slip from my mind like raindrops. The Rings demand everything from me, and I lose myself in their power.
A woman calls to me, but her voice is swept away in the gale.
Servants and soldiers scream, cowering as the tempest grows. A moment ago, Namreth’s power was hurling plates and chairs, but now it’s throwing men and women. It tosses them in the air, slams them into walls if they’re lucky, impaling them on spears if they’re not.
Namreth’s power will take down every guard and rebel alike. It will tear apart every soul in this hall if it’s allowed to continue. Iknowif he’s not stopped, Namreth will bring down the castle itself.
I counter Namreth’s gale with a black and swirling thunderstorm, my smile wide and wicked. This is what the Rings want of me, what they’ve been waiting for all these years.
I bring my arms together, and the beams in the ceiling bend. The floor beneath me bows, threatening to crack open. Columns buckle, and the arched roof sags dangerously. The room itself is breaking apart, and fragments of the walls and ceiling are swept up in the tempest. The cyclone surrounds me, and I’m in control.
Icommandthe tornado.
The guards retreat. Every surviving person in the hall retreats. This is no longer a battle between mortals.
It is Anemoi against Kilandrar, its dark mirror.
I direct my storm to the center of the room, to spare innocent lives, focusing only on Namreth.
