Because what could he say?
She was right.
But that didn’t matter anymore.
He wasn’t here to make it right.
He was here to end it.
Maris shifted beside him, her arm sliding under his to keep him upright. Her magic flickered against his side, warm, wild, too powerful to control.
“You shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
But he smiled blood in his teeth, fire in his chest.
“I’d do it again.”
-Maris-
Her hands were shaking.
Not from fear.
From fury.
The moment Alarik stumbled, arrow lodged in his shoulder, blood soaking his armor, something inside Maris snapped.
She didn’t think. Didn’t speak.
She simply let go a roar in her bones.
Light exploded from her chest, racing down her arms, her legs, her spine. Her vision whitewashed with flame and fury. The Crown of Bones, once pale and silent, ignited, glowing like a fallen star above her brow.
The ground beneath her shattered as magic burst from her like a tidal wave.
Elenwe didn’t have time to move.
The force hit her, an unrelenting blast of divine power. She flew backward across the battlefield, crashing through spawn, stone, and flame until she slammed into the cliffside behind her with a sound like a thunderclap.
The impact carved a crater where she landed.
Smoke billowed.
Silence followed.
Maris stood panting, her magic still crackling across her skin in spiderweb arcs of light. Her eyes shimmered, nearly glowing. The gods behind her stood still, watching, waiting.
And Alarik… stepped forward.
Pain in every breath.
Blood trailing from his shoulder.
But he walked. Sword drawn.
Toward the crater.
Toward Elenwe.
