The ink seared her skin, and then it was gone. Hope gasped, clutching the three pieces of heart against her chest, her blood racing through her veins as her fight-or-flight instinct kicked in.
She couldn’t wait. Not another night. Not when Nina was at risk. Not when Ayla’s veins already carried the Cardinal Queen’s poison. Not when the lives of more innocents were about to end.
Hope was ready tofight.
She was ready to destroy three pieces of the Queen’s heart, right here, right now. Then she would go and help Lenna get the piece from the East, destroy it, and finally go to the Organ House for the fifth piece of heart.
As if a piece of the puzzle had been lingering in the back of her mind, it suddenly clicked. The fifth and last piece of heart was not just in the Core, in the Organ House—it was in the Queen herself. What kept her alive was that injured, smaller organ beating in her chest.
They were very, very close. Three pieces were in front of her, then the Eastern one, and then Hope would go confront the Queen herself and annihilate her. Once she was dead, the trickle of deaths would stop, the unnecessary pain and fear of Thyrian citizens would go. It was Hope’s responsibility to stop it.
She walked deeper into the woods, each step heavier than the last, but her resolve sharpened with every breath.
She stopped in a clearing where the moonlight bled through the canopy in fractured red shafts. The earth was damp beneath her knees as she placed the bag Ayla gave her with the North piece of heart on the ground before her. It pulsed once, twice, like a living thing desperate to crawl back into its Queen.
Her hands lifted, fingers trembling not from fear but from the power she was summoning. Fifth Power—pure destruction, pure force. It burned in her veins like sparks made solid, cracking through her bones. She tightened her jaw, exhaled, and slammed both palms toward the heart piece.
The world detonated as it lit up.
The ground split with the thunder of her strike, earth flinging upward, trees bowing back, the metallic bag bursting open as the fragment inside was obliterated into nothing. The shockwave slammed into her chest, almost knocking her to the ground. She gasped—then froze.
Her ankle.
The comforting light weight of Ciaran’s shadow was gone, blown apart by her own explosion. She reached for it instinctively, desperate to feel its tether again, but there was only emptiness. No shadow, no protection. The silence that followed was worse than the blast.
Then, she heard them.
Screeches, guttural and sharp. Sangins. Her heart plummeted. The destruction of the heart fragment had loosened the Cardinal Queen’s leash. Now they could probably smell her, locate her,findher.
Branches cracked. Claws scraped bark. A dozen glowing eyes flared in the treeline, then another dozen. They were coming.
Hope pushed herself to her feet, every muscle screaming. She didn’t hesitate. She pulled the crystal case from her pocket and hurled the Southern piece onto the ground. Her hands lit again, raw power gathering.She knew she had seconds before the sangins closed in.
Another explosion ripped through the clearing, tearing across the woods. The second piece dissolved, shrieking as though it carried its own soul.
Pain seared her forearm, claws raking across her skin. A sangin had broken through the shockwave, its talons slicing bone-deep. Hope spun, thrusting her glowing palm against its chest, blasting it to ash. Another lunged from behind. She ducked, drove her fist into its skull, the Fifth consuming it whole.
But there were too many.
She staggered, bleeding, breath ragged, as she ripped the cage of shadows from her belt. The West piece throbbed inside, trying to twist itself free. Hope slammed the cage onto the ground and, without pause, drove both hands against it, unleashing the last of her gathered strength.
The explosion shattered the cage. Light and shadows collided, a violent implosion that swallowed the last piece whole.
Three destroyed.
She fell to her knees, chest heaving, arms scorched, her body trembling from the Fifth Power tearing through her. She had done it. The Queen was weaker now. She had delivered the first real wound.
But the sangins did not stop.
They poured from the trees, endless, ravenous. Hope raised her hand to send a desperate ink plea to Ciaran, but claws raked across her back, another across her ribs, driving the air from her lungs. Every time she tried to focus, another beast lunged for her life, forcing her to fight instead of sending her words to her man.
Her blood painted the ground. Her body gave way, but her will did not. Even on her knees, she fought like a storm—unyielding, slamming her burning palms into sangin after sangin until her blood ran dry.
When the last of her strength flickered, she smiled through the blood on her lips.
Three pieces destroyed. The Queen would feel this. The island would feel this.
Her shadow warrior would continue their mission, with her friends—their family. They would make this world a safer one. They would find a suitable Organ Mandor that ensured peace and justice.
