“No!” My objection is sharper than I intended, but we don’t have time to debate our next move. “We have to find my father.”
Roman tenses. “Your father’s body is in the angels’ realm. No demon can go there and survive.”
I attempt to close my fingers across his shoulder—an impossible task with the size of his muscles and the current state of my hand. I’m acutely conscious that so far, he hasn’t even glanced Koda’s way and that my brother is watching our interaction from beneath his furrowed brow. Koda’s shoulders are hunched where he remains slumped beside me, his breathing shallower by the second.
“Demons don’t belong in the angels’ realm,” Koda rasps, surprising me when he backs Roman up. “Even if we make it there, the chances of survival are small.”
Refocusing on Roman, I persist. “We have to use the weapon that the angels created so that we can get through Mortem’s gates. Get to Earth and then find a way from there to the angels’ realm.”
The weapon is a powerful source of angel light, designed to transport its holder—and anyone who stands within its light when it is ignited—between worlds. It’s volatile and dangerous, and Roman is keeping the pieces safe in his home where they can’t be misused.
We need them now.
I refuse to look away, even as Roman’s eyes darken. Impossibly black. “We can kill Esta as many times as we like, but she won’t die,” I say. “My father is the only one who can end this. We have to find his body and reinstate his soul. Make him whole and make things right again.”
Taniya edges in beside me. Her wings are tucked to her sides now, but her blue eyes remain bright with concern. “Nova’s right. Jareth was trying to give us a message while we were in the prison. Finding him is the only way through this.”
“Even if we have to break the gates to get out,” I say, remembering the message my father gave me before we escaped the prison where his soul is being held captive.
Take your sisters and escape Pyra-Mortem. Break the gates if you have to. Run, Nova!
I thought he was telling me to escape the Elimination, to save myself, but now I think he was telling me to find him.
“The gates were locked to control the imbalance that was forming in Mortem,” Roman growls, a harsh whisper. “Breaking them would cause ripples through the three worlds. The Balance could be destroyed completely. Even if we had a way to get through.”
“With the angels’ weapon, we can make it through,” I say, even though it’s merely a hope on my part.
The angels’ weapon dragged us here in the first place. And while it might be in the Wilds, Roman has proven in the past that he can transport it instantly to wherever he is.
“I can’t hold them back much longer!” Malia screams from the front of the dome, her arms straining, her shoulders hunched. Her heels dig into the earth as if a force is pushing her backward.
In front of her, the shield is becoming transparent, its layers slowly being stripped away. Crone’s silhouette is now visible beside Esta’s. The ancient woman’s robes whip around her tiny body, her clothing and skin so porcelain-white that she’s a bare outline through the ivory shield.
Esta and Crone. How in the fuck had I missed that? Roman warned me that Mortem was filled with deception and illusion, but even he hadn’t seen their evil.
Looking into Roman’s eyes, I dare to face the reflection of my wounds. “If Esta wins, the Balance between the three worlds willneverbe restored. She forced souls into the Forbidden Lands, imprisoned demons in the prison who shouldn’t be there. My father’s soul is being held captive there, too, and his body? Fuck knows what happened to him. If she reigns, the three worlds will forever be at tipping point. There willneverbe Balance.”
I sense Roman’s resolve slipping. My damaged fingers press against his arm. “We have to try.”
He gives me a nod, but the tense line of his jaw and the tightness around his eyes tell me he doesn’t like it.
His hand passes across his chest, and the three dismantled pieces of the weapon appear in the air between us, floating within a bed of amethyst light.
The base of the weapon is curved and bone-colored, like the tusk of an ancient creature. The clasp is silver. And the stone has the appearance of a silvery diamond, the size of my fist. The stone needs to slip into the top of the clasp while the bottom of the clasp rests on the hollow end of the long, curved horn.
Malia screams from the shield. “Roman! It’s breaking!”
Roman spins toward her and, with a last reluctant glance at the pieces of the weapon, he says, “Assemble the weapon! I’ll make sure the shield is strong enough that the weapon only transports those of us inside.”
The pieces are already gravitating toward each other through the air, pulling together and proving once again that this weaponwantsto be assembled.
I snatch the clasp from the air while Taniya grasps the horn, but Koda only stares at the stone, which floats in front of him.
We fought him over this weapon. Nearly died during that fight. Now we’re handing him a piece of it and trusting him to help us put it together.
His eyes flash to mine. Instead of taking the stone, he presses his free fist to his chest, wincing with pain.
I haven’t let go of his other hand. I can’t yet. I tell myself it’s because his power is masking my pain, but there’s another part of me that fears that his alliance with me is one more illusion of this world. That it will disappear as soon as I let go.
