At first, she retains her demon form, and there’s a part of me that’s terrified it’s a trick. The last time we managed to tear her apart, she took minutes to revive, and this could be the same.
But then…
Golden shapes lift from her body, slowly at first, and then faster.
First is Carys, the ghostly form of her soul a faded image of herself. Her soul lifts and hovers in front of Koda as if she’s trying to speak with him, but she doesn’t make a sound. At the sight of her, the darkness fades from around his face and shoulders and his features come back into view.
His expression is bleak as his mother’s soul fades.
The next soul comes roaring out of Esta, a dark mass of black-and-violet power that fills me with sudden shock.
“Father!” My cry fades as the inky soul stops in front of me, and I’m hit with the full force of my father’s rage before his essence roars away from me into the air. There’s nothing I can do before it disappears, and I can only hope that it will find my father’s body in the prison.
At the side of the stadium, the hungry souls have stopped moving, all of them staring this way. In the distance, the energy storm also suddenly stops swirling.
I’m not sure what to expect, but it fades like mist in the morning sun, sending a final gust of wind racing through the arena. The breeze reaches the souls and, just like that, they disperse into the air, becoming a flurry of leaves and ash that settles onto the battlefield.
Wild Girl gallops through the ash toward me, her silver mane glowing.
Reaper runs alongside her.“Nova! Jump on!”the demon wolf cries.“We will take you to Roman.”
Jump on? Does she mean onto Wild Girl?
There was a time when Wild Girl wouldn’t even allow me to brush her nose, let alone ride her.
“Go, Nova,” Koda says, somehow interpreting the intentions of the oncoming beasts. “Go to Roman and end this.”
As soon as I start running, Wild Girl veers toward me, tossing her head. I sense my body shifting back to my normal size an instant before she reaches me.
I’ve never ridden a horse before and I nearly overshoot my jump as I leap onto her back, desperately swinging my leg over, and gripping with my thighs. Holding on for dear life.
At the other end of the stadium, a new energy storm has formed, a crackling, opaque dome that shimmers with ancient powers.
My senses tell me that death waits within the dome, but I have no time for doubt as we race into the storm.
The energy within the dome hits me like a punch, biting and raking across my face and hands as I enter it. Runes fly through the air, script of every color soaring around the space, some of it sharp like daggers, other runes slithering along the ground, still others wafting like burning embers.
Black insects race around the area, dark spells in the shapes of spiders, cockroaches, and ants that snatch at the runes, trying to consume them.
The sound of magic is so loud that it’s deafening and my ears ring and my head buzzes, but now that I’ve entered the dome, it’s as if my presence is inconsequential. The magic rages around without touching me, Wild Girl, or Reaper.
This magic is intent only on destroying itself.
Wild Girl slows right down to a cautious walk, stepping carefully while I hunch over her neck, ducking the insects and runes that zip around us.
“Roman!” I scream, unable to locate him in the tumult. “Rune!”
“There!”Reaper says into my mind.
A cascade of runes that look like falling knives separates up ahead, revealing Roman and Crone locked in battle, but my heart stops to see that they’re completely consumed by their powers, the war raging around them while they both appear frozen.
Roman’s arm is extended toward Crone, his eyes completely black, his hair dark, and his skin mottled amethyst. Crone is a spot of white in the dark environment, her robe rippling around her body where she floats mere paces from Roman.
“They are too evenly matched,” Reaper says. “Neither will win. But, Nova, you must break this impasse, or the power within this sphere will grow to destroy everything around us—everything you have fought for.”
“I have to tip the scales,” I whisper.In Roman’s favor.
My heart is thudding because this kind of magic is completely foreign to me. Crone’s power is made of dark creatures that snap and bite and sting while Roman’s script can cut and destroy with a single written word.
