“Damn it.”
The words were a breath in the garden’s stillness.
After everything—after centuries of enduring—was he going to falter now? When it mattered most? His shadows twitched, one rising toward the blade. As if they could stop him.
A bitter laugh escaped him, dry and hollow in the quiet garden.
He’d faced armies. He’d survived wars. He’d endured centuries of Xyliria’s cruelty, her madness, her slow dismantling of everything he’d once been.
And yet, his hand trembled.
Ashterion drew in a deep breath, steadying himself. The air tasted sweet here, untainted by the heavy scent of blood and fear that permeated the palace.
He lowered the blade to his lap, forcing out a slow deep breath. His hand steadied. His shadows stilled.
This wasn’t about courage. It wasn’t about fear. It was about necessity.
One clean stroke.
And it would all be over.
70
Brynelle didn’t scream. No. The sound she made was worse. A wet,chokedgasp, so small, so fragile, the sound a body makes when it’s trying to understand the impossible.
When itknowsit has only seconds left.
Her bodyjerked, her hands flying to her throat, pressing,clawingat the wound, trying to hold in the blood that was alreadypouringdown her chest. Dark and endless.
Unstoppable.
The moment stretched, agonisingly slow. A heartbeat suspended in time.
Her eyes—gods,her eyes—were wide with shock.
Everything inside me shattered.
A scream tore through the air.
Raw. Animal.
Shaelith.
I had never heard anything like it. Not in battle. Not in torture. Not even in my own nightmares.
Itrippedthrough the space, throughbone, through the fabric of the world.
It wasn’t even a voice anymore. Justanguishmade real, a thing with jagged teeth and bleeding edges, clawing through the air as if sound alone could stop what had already happened.
Brynelle crumpled.
Shaelith threw herself forward,lungingacross the blood-slick stone.
She caught Brynelle before she hit the ground.
Barely.
Her arms wrapped around her, and she sank to her knees, dragging Brynelle down with her, cradling her like she could undo it, like she could press her back together with sheer fucking will.
