She looked down.
Diera’s once lovely eyes stared up at her, glassy and unblinking. Blood soaked her gown, spreading like a dark halo beneath her limp body.
A scream tore from Luna’s throat as she shook a piece of fabric off her shoe.
“No!” William dropped to his knees, shaking Diera’s shoulders. “Diera, my love. Please! Diera,please!”
This was real. Death wasn’t some far-off idea; it was here, warm and wet—and staring back at her.
Her stomach lurched. She staggered, eyes scanning wildly. Where was her sister? Her parents?
Without thinking, she reached for William’s arm. Not to comfort him, but to pull him up, to move, to survive.
He shoved her off, hard. “This is your fault!” he shouted over the din, face twisted in rage only inches from hers. “You were supposed to protect us!”
“I can’t!” Luna cried out. Someone then slammed into her, knocking her to the floor.
Clyde was there in an instant, hauling her up. “We need to move, now!” he growled, gripping her hand tightly as he dragged her forward.
They were nearly at the platform of thrones when Luna looked back and recognized a familiar face. Desperate to be heard, she shouted with all her might, “Venita!”
Venita spun around. Her eyes were wide with tears, and she met Luna’s gaze just as a red-cloaked figure swung his sword. In a horrifying flash, he severed her head. It tumbled to the ground, rolling until it came to a haunting stop . . . mouth agape.
Luna screamed and tried to lunge towards her, panic breaking through her numbness. Clyde held her back, his grip on her arm tightening.
“Let me go!”
If she could just get to her—just reattach her head—then maybe, somehow, everything would be fine. Venita wasn’t dead; she couldn’t be.
She was too sweet, too kind, to have an ending like this.
Luna reached for her magic, for anything that would help, but only the hollow ache of loss answered her.
She screamed again, tears blurring her vision as memories crashed over her all at once—Venita’s laughter, her warmth, her unconditional support. Gone with a single swing of a blade.
Clyde dragged her on. “I can’t save everyone,” he said, his voice raw, “but I can save you.”
At the platform, Luna collapsed to her knees, barely registering Clyde as he fought off attackers right in front of her. The threat of death felt both distant and imminent, hovering beyond her ability to process. A small voicein her mind urged her to run, but her legs wouldn’t obey. Her world was breaking, piece by piece.
“I don’t know if I can hold them off much longer!” Clyde shouted, his voice strained as William joined him, both of their swords moving in a blur. “You need to transform, Luna. We need your help.”
What good would a few flowers do in a fight like this? She shook her head. There was nothing she could do . . . She could only listen and cry as everyone she had ever known and loved was slaughtered.
“You have to try Luna,” Clyde pleaded. “Save us all!”
She hardly heard him through the mountain of grief.
More guards rushed the room, but their numbers were too few to stem the tide of assailants. Clyde moved like a man possessed, his blade flashing as he sliced one attacker’s back before plunging through another’s chest.
A shadow moved behind him. Before Luna could warn him, an arrow, swift and silent, struck his leg. His face contorted in pain, and he fell backwards against her.
“Use the passage!” William barked. “Now!”
How could she have forgotten? Amidst the chaos, it had completely slipped her mind that the palace was riddled with secret escape passages. Quickly, she rushed to help Clyde to his feet.
Grimacing, he draped his arms around her shoulders, leaning heavily on her as he pointed to the wall behind the thrones. They hobbled over and, despite the pain, Clyde pressed three subtly marked stones. The wall groaned, and with a soft click, a secret door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit escape route.
Moving as fast as they could, they slipped inside with William staying behind to guard the entrance.
