“Stay with me,leikavi,” he rasped, his chest heaving, keeping me tight in his arms. I was convinced the blue light was coming from me now because it shone over Davik’s face, highlighting the deepness of his scar, his scowl, the black threads of his red eyes. “Please. We are almost there.”
Then the light over his face began to fade and I felt Kakkari’s power beginning to drain with it.
My eyes closed.
“Vienne!” Davik grated. “Look at me.”
I heard heavy, booted footsteps. Not Davik’s or Rath Kitala’s. I heard the whisper of bare feet too on the stone, of shivering gasps and sobs. I felt the hard press of hundreds of emotions fill my mind. Relief, fear, confusion, sadness. I felt the presence of dozens...of the enslaved?
Were my family among them?
“Davik, my family,” I told him.
“Hedna will find them,” Davik assured me. “If they are not outside already. Hold on,rei kassiri. I beg you.”
We were ascending stairs now. I gritted my teeth, my eyelids fluttering open to see the blackened stone of the mountain. We were still deep inside.
Just a little longer, I told myself.Hang onto it a little longer.
The power was flickering. Fading. How long did we have until the Ghertun would move freely again? Had thedarukkarsreached the cellars? Had they found the cure?
“Look at me,” Davik growled.
My eyes found him.
His eyes were panicked and wild as he peered down at me. A wave of affection, of grief went through me, tears beginning to flow freely from my eyes.
“Do not do this,leikavi,” he rasped. “Hanniva, do not do this.”
I wanted to tell him at least once. I did not know what would come next. I did not know what price Kakkari would ask of me for the use of her power…but I wanted to tell him at least once.
“You did a terrible thing, you know,” I told him.
“What is that,leikavi?” he asked quietly. “Keep speaking. Tell me.”
“You made me love you.”
“Nik,Vienne,” he growled. “It was the best thing I have ever done.”
A sound tore from my throat.
“Drokka, she’s fading,” I heard, the voice sounding like Rath Kitala’s. “The heartstone—”
“I know,” Davik growled, just as we reached the top of the stairs.
The hallway to the gates of the Dead Mountain was short but just as we crossed the threshold, I felt Kakkari’s power give way, releasing, a tight tension from the mind unravelling and unravelling until I thought I might unravel with it.
A hum seemed to rise up from within the mountain, growing louder and louder as we burst from the gates, into open, cool air.
I heard crying. I heard human voices—I heard Killup, and Nrunteng, and Dakkari. A loud murmur that seemed to rise.
Then I heard, “Vienne!”
My eyes opened and I could recognize that voice anywhere.
And there, huddled together in the darkness in the open air of the Dead Valley, was my family. Maxen and Eli, thin and bleary-eyed, and Viola, whose tear-streaked face hit me like a punch.
The woman running towards me was older than I remembered, with lines across her forehead that hadn’t been there before, streaks of white in her hair that hadn’t been there before.
