The fire crept insidiously, charring her hands before coiling around her wrists, creeping upward like ivy. Her body shook, muscles taut and trembling, straining as if on the verge of snapping. Every part of her braced against the mounting pressure.
She drove the Wound of Light deeper, inch by inch, feeling the resistance give way—a slow crack splintering open in the dark.
The parasite inside her twisted, coiling and thrashing, fighting back against the power of the Sidhe and the blade.
Come on, come on.
With each drive of the blade, memories surged through her—moments of blood and grit, triumph wrested from despair, dreams shattered and painstakingly rebuilt, vows whispered in the dead of night, and defiant cries hurled against the dark. Each scar, every tear, every breathless laugh—every broken moment—braided together, feeding the fire at her core.
The world may have seen her as broken, but it was time they realized—broken things can be sharp,deadly.
Elara screamed, driving the Wound of Light into the fracture. And then, as if the fates conspired in her favor, the dagger tore through the fabric of reality, unleashing a cataclysmic force that bridged the two worlds.
Chapter 60
Reality splintered with a deafening roar, sending tremors rippling through the Void. The currents becoming wild, screaming around Elara as she pulled the Wound of Light from the rift.
The hands that had steadied her slipped away, the last traces ofDraothfading from her veins, leaving her feeling suddenly, achingly empty.
Nothing moved.
The silence was uncanny, weighty, broken only by the hum of the rift hanging in the air before them, alive with a volatile, uncontained energy.
Elara looked up, eyes wide as she glimpsed what lay beyond—a world of colors that defied reason, hues that seemed to shimmer and shift with each passing second. Shades of green, blue, and gold bled into one another, creating landscapes that looked like moving glass, like someone had taken the idea of wonder and spun it into existence.
Her pupils dilated, her heart stuttering between beats. A hint of a smile touched her lips as she glanced back?—
—and the air tore from her lungs in a painful rush.
The three Sidhe lay still on the cold expanse of the Void, their forms already dissolving, fading into the darkness.
A strangled sound tore from her as she stumbled forward, hands outstretched. Nothing met her grasp but air.
Elara looked up to find anguish etched across Reynnar’s face. Aoife stood beside him, tears streaking her cheeks, gaze fixed on the fallen Sidhe, shoulders trembling with quiet sobs.
Reynnar turned to Aoife, his voice hoarse, barely more than a whisper. “Go.”
Aoife gave a trembling nod, quickly wiping her eyes before turning and sprinting out of the Void. Moments later, a flood of Sidhe poured in, brushing past her like fleeting bursts of life against the Void’s unrelenting chill. They surged toward the rift, toward the freedom won by the final breaths of the three who had sacrificed everything.
“Eilíara.”
She met Reynnar’s gaze. Slowly, he reached forward, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “Come with me.” Her lids slid closed, tension coiling along her neck. Gods, she wanted to. Every fiber of her being screamed that it was the right choice, the only choice.
But she opened her eyes and shook her head, a faint tremor running through her. “I can’t.”
His brow creased, a flicker of hurt and confusion crossing his face.
Elara swallowed and glanced down at the blade in her hand—the weapon forged by a goddess, the one thing Osin couldn’t take from her. “I promised someone,” she murmured, “I promised I would kill the king.”
She had to do it—for Calista, for herself, for every soul Osin had torn apart and stolen. There was no future, no safety, until he was gone. The weight of the blade in her hand was her onlycertainty, its edge promising vengeance—the finality she needed to end him.
Reynnar caught her eye, reading something in her expression that didn’t need words. A quiet resolve settled over him as he nodded. “I’m going with you.”
The words struck like ice, a wave of panic rising in her chest. “No.Leave. You need to get out of this place. To be free of it. You’ve given enough.”
Tears blurred her vision, slipping down her cheeks as the three Sidhe behind him dissolved, fading into the Void. “You’ve all given too much already. Go.”
But he shook his head, his jaw tight, his eyes unyielding. “No.”
