Silla shook her arm and retrieved her sword, all the while glaring at the tree.
Kálf came next, lending her his Ashbringer skill, but as Silla lashed the tree with a whip of flames, it did not so much as scorch the bark. Then came Rey, but his smoke neither charred nor caught on the tree’s unnatural wood.
Worry gathered in Silla’s stomach, the din of battle making itdifficult to think. She’d tried the halda stones; both Blade Breaker and Ashbringer skills. Runný’s invisibility and light-bending shield would do nothing against it. So how…howdid she kill this foe?
You cannot kill it,taunted Myrkur, the dark god’s arrogance flooding her veins.But I can. Made from Sunnvald’s own heart, it cannot be defeated by light, but of its own darkness.
Sunnvald’s heart,thought Silla.What does this mean?
The hjarta trees were created by my brother’s ashes,replied the god of chaos.And their infected form cannot be defeated by Sunnvald’s magic. Only my own will defeat the leech.
“You’re lying.” Why would He tell her this? It felt like a trap.
I’m not.
“I do not believe you.”
A vision flashed in her mind’s eye. A book came into view, age-worn pages depicting this very tree. And scrawled below it were the words Myrkur had just recited:Made from Sunnvald’s own heart, it cannot be defeated by light, but of its own darkness.
So you see, Eisa,purred the dark god,the only way to destroy the leech is to let me in. Grant me access to your bloodline gift, and I shall braid it with my own magic. Together, we shall destroy it.
Silla suddenly understood Myrkur’s silence leading up to this. He’d been biding His time for this very moment, when He’d force her to choose between vanquishing the tree and guarding her bloodline gift. Granting Myrkur access to her bloodline gift might destroy the tree, yet Silla knew from Svangormr Pass that it would also endanger every person in this grove.
She stood before the monstrous tree, battle raging all around her. It was an impossible choice.
But what if there was another way? Silla’s heart raced with a new idea. If the treewasonly vulnerable to Myrkur’s power—could she use her bloodline gift to siphon His magic and use it against the leech? It was impossible. And yet…it was an opportunity too great to resist. Because if fortune and skill aligned just right, perhaps Silla could both vanquish the leechandfree herself from her mother’s bargain.
Dropping her sword, she drew her dagger, then slashed it through her palm.
What are you plotting, little Eisa?Myrkur demanded.
But Silla didn’t answer. Working swiftly, she dipped her fingers into the pooling blood and drew a series of lines and circles on the blackened trunk of the infected tree. She’d seen her mother scrawl these patterns a hundred times in her nightmares; never had she thought she would do so herself.
Silla drew a deep breath. Gathered her courage.
“Dark One,” she shouted, “I call to you!”
Chapter 59
Each violent pound of Silla’s heart echoed in her skull, drowning out all else in the grove. The hjarta trees towering above her, the battle seething behind her—everything ceased to exist. Silla adjusted her mask as black muck oozed from a burl on the misshapen tree, but as frigid air suddenly rippled through the grove, she knew the god of chaos had answered her call.
A black shadow formed at the base of the tree’s trunk, swirling and climbing upward before coalescing into the shape of a man. As the spikes of Myrkur’s crown jutted from His head, Silla was nearly driven to her knees by the overwhelming presence of the god. This was nothing like the shard of Him she carried within her—a mere echo compared with the power before her.
This was agod,through and through.
Silla locked her knees in place and braced herself. Behind her, cries of alarm told her the others in the grove could see Him as well. The shadow rippled, and Myrkur’s laughter was no longer confined to her skull, but came from everywhere all at once.
“Little Eisa,” He cackled. “It was not so long ago that I met your mother like this.”
Anger rushed through Silla, and she grappled for the reason she’d called Him. “I would like to make a bargain,” she forced out, goosebumps prickling up her arms and down her spine.
“A bargain,” repeated Myrkur, bored. “Do not tell mea life for alife,Eisa. Not when I already hold your life in my palms.” Silla’s lungs seized in a demonstration of the god’s power. Her hand flew to her throat, eyes blinking frantically as she tried to remember how to draw air into her chest—
Myrkur cocked His head to the side, and the feeling subsided at once.
Silla gulped a deep lungful of air, trying to clear the dancing lights from her vision.
“If you wanted me dead,” Silla panted, “you’d have done it weeks ago.”
