The tree. Carcerem was a kingdom with magic. I’d connect to the arbor. I threw my senses out, beyond myself, into the land, then deeper. Searching, seeking. Where once there was love and light, now I found only icy darkness. A deep throbbing pain. Something was seriously wrong with the sacred arbor. Had The Dark One succeeded?
Without magic. I couldn’t save Thorne.
“Help!” I screamed. “Someone help me! Please!”
“Serafina?” said a smoky voice.
“Drazen? Here! I’m here!”
“Told you I saw a dragon crash in this direction,” grumbled another voice, this one deeper.
“Hurry!” I called out, and Kronk and Drazen came into view.
“By the fires of hell, what happened here?” Drazen surveyed the destruction, his gaze fixed on my fallen mate.
“I’ll explain later,” I barked, panic sharpening my words. “Right now, I need your help.”
Kronk took a knee beside me, pressed his fingers to Thorne’s neck, and shook his head. “I’m sorry, Serafina. Your mate is already gone.”
“No. No, he isn’t,” I shouted, tears blurring my vision. “Hathor made me her handmaiden. Gave me her magic. The goddess’s gift is creation. Take us to the sacred arbor, and I’m certain I can help him.”
Kronk’s thick forehead furrowed. “But—”
Drazen set his hand on his brother’s shoulder, saying softly, “Just do it.”
“Very well.” Kronk lifted Thorne from my arms, and the four of us set out.
Chapter Thirty-Three
SERAFINA
Fear gatheredinside of me the closer we drew to Slyborn’s throne room. The feeling was a dark cloud, rumbling with dread, winds twisting around my insides. Bodies littered the ground of the courtyard. Both mortal and monster. The once impenetrable doors of the castle hung drunkenly on their hinges.
“Runa!” Drazen raced ahead, boots sliding through pools of gore.
Kronk adjusted his grip on Thorne’s battered body. “Stay behind me until we know what lingers inside.”
I nodded and followed, pausing at the threshold. Smoke and sulfur lingered in the air. The bite of it coated my tongue, making me want to wretch. Leathery wendigos were strewn about the marble floors. Skin smoldering, they rested in piles of splintered benches. Black starbursts of soot marred soaring columns wrapped in ivy. More darkened the walls where great bursts of magic had struck.
“Sister,” Drazen shouted again, desperation in his tone.
A weakened voice floated back. “Here. We’re up here.”
He charged up the steps of the dais, while Kronk and I proceeded at a cautious pace, Thorne secure in his arms. At the top of the platform, the royals came into view. The king slumped with his legs splayed, blood running down his forehead. Beside him, Queen Runa dabbed at the wound with a bit of fabric she’d torn from her dress. Both looked to have been dragged through the streets of Carcerem by a team of runaway bula. Bruises, lacerations, and soot covered them from head to toe.
“The bastards made it inside,” Kronk’s deep voice wavered.
“They did,” Runa confirmed, shoulders heavy with defeat.
Drazen eyed the strangely silent king. “Why are the two of you not healing? I thought this deal between you and the arbor came with an endless supply of power. That includes healing magic. So why the hell is my sister still bleeding?”
“You know I would have already tended her if I could,” Victor said simply, nodding at the tree.
Our heads swiveled, and the sight of the sacred arbor ripped the air from my lungs. I clutched my chest, nails digging into my skin.
Its once-mighty trunk was split down the middle. Bronze leaves tumbled from its withered branches, ignited midair, then drifted to earth as embers. The metallic tang of blood lingered with the acrid sting of ash, as if the tree itself had bled and burned. While it remained upright, a low creak shuddered through its limbs, warning that even the most sacred things could be brought to their knees.
Kronk took a lumbering step closer, then caught himself. “Is it dead?” he asked, sturdy arms locked around the man he carried, almost as if he forgot Thorne was even there.
