But the swell of victory in Hekla’s chest was short-lived. As her gaze roamed across the battlefield, it landed on her curly-haired friend, stumbling backward. Hekla watched in dawning horror as Silla fell to her knees, clutching her head.
As Rey howled in rage, Hekla knew her friend was in grave danger.
Chapter 65
Silla was buried in darkness and drowning in despair. The dark god was in every corner of her body, each crevice of her mind. She clawed against His hold, tried to bring herself back to the light.
No,she pleaded, thinking of Rey and Hekla and all of Íseldur—of Saga and her promise they’d meet one day. The names expanded like bubbles in her chest, and for a moment, Silla held on to hope. She only needed to try harder—to fight with more vigor.
Your stubbornness would be admirable,whispered Myrkur,if it weren’t so bothersome.One by one, the bubbles burst, leaving her emptier than before.
Silla just needed to hang on a little longer. She grasped for the last shred of her control, but it was hopeless. Futile.
All you had to do was surrender to me,purred Myrkur, kneading her spine with His talons, lulling her with gentle beats of leathery wings.Such a waste of potential.
The dark god’s words were weighted, and her mind was buckling beneath the force of them. She collapsed to the ground, the last of her free will sliding through her fingers.
And then she knew. She’d never stood a chance. Myrkur would win this battle.
Chapter 66
Nausea boiled in Saga’s gut, though it was not due to the wide-open skies all around her. It was Eisa—Sagahadto get to her. Gripping Havoc’s mane, she pressed her chest lower to his sleek form as he sailed through the salt-tinged air.
Must get to her,she thought frantically, the tug of Eisa’s mind growing stronger with each passing heartbeat.
Saga had felt the familiar pull of Eisa the moment Íseldur’s shores had come into view. She’d also felt that otherthing—the dark creature nesting deep within her. Immediately, Saga had bristled. Never again would she listen to that voice. Never again would she let it feed her deepest, most heinous desires.
But Eisa. Something was wrong.
Kassandr had found Saga unfastening the sling that secured Havoc in his stall on their merchant ship.
“I have to go to her,” she’d explained to her husband’s wordless question. “She’s in trouble.”
Kassandr had chewed on his reply, then to Saga’s great relief had simply nodded. “You will bring me with you,” he ordered. And though Havoc had snorted indignantly as the Beast of Zagadka climbed onto his back, her stallion seemed to understand the urgency of this moment.
And so they’d taken to the skies, Kassandr shouting to Rov that they’d meet them at the port in Kunafjord. Saga said a silentapology to Kass’s long-suffering second in command, who pulled his hair while shouting foul Zagadkian curses at Kass.
As Havoc carried Saga and Kass over angry frothing seas and closer to Íseldur, her Sense had grown stronger. And with it came awareness of something new—a pool of power behind her breastbone. Cautiously, Saga probed it, trying to understand. Was this the heart of her magic? If so, what was that other thing…the dark thing that had spoken in her mind in Askaborg’s great hall? It was silent now, but she shuddered to think what it might do should it wake.
As they at last flew over a rugged beach, Saga’s breaths grew more even.
She was back in Íseldur.
Below them, the Western Woods sprouted upward, and Saga gasped at the state of the forest—the trees gray, spindly things, starving and parched. And in the very farthest distance, a column of smoke churned into the skies.
“There!” she shouted to Kass. After retching several times into the ocean, he’d been uncharacteristically quiet. Kassandr Rurik’s stomach, it seemed, was not so ironclad as the grip he held around her waist.
On they flew until Saga’s hands were numb with cold and her stomach seethed like a swarm of angry bees. It was the farthest she’d ever flown on Havoc, yet with Kass behind her and her sister before her, she was bolstered with strength. Over and over, Saga reminded herself that fear was a thing to be felt. Still, her heart raced and her breaths were shallow.
Time ceased to have meaning—perhaps they flew for one hour, perhaps it was six. But gradually the column of smoke grew nearer. The sun had set in the west behind them, and the moons began their Rise in the east, directly before them. And as Saga gazed at the smaller of the sister moons, she realized Marra was full. Hope sparked in her chest.
Saga had always been drawn to Marra above all the other oldgods.Goddess of healing and knowledge,Saga heard in her mother’s voice.Marra is often called Peacebringer.A full Marra felt like a good omen—not that Saga believed in such things.
Havoc whinnied as a harsh sound climbed above the howling wind.
“Battle,” growled Kass, his grip on her waist tightening. “I do not like this—”
“You don’tneedto like it,” Saga snapped. “Eisa is down there and I have to find—”
