And she kept her promise.
44
Lenna
“Where can the Queen be? Where would she take Ayla?” Hope demanded, eyes focused on Jake, who knew the Organ House like the palm of his own hand.
Before he could answer, a red Cardinal bird appeared from the other end of the throne room, swooping low over Hope’s ears, as if whispering. Feathers caught the glimmers of crystal light as it darted through the doors, leading them.
“Core Cardinal,” Hope said, letting go of a sudden relieved exhale.
The four of them ran after her. Lenna’s lungs burned, her hands sticky with blood and sparks. Every time a sangin lungedfrom the shadows or a roixer charged from a side passage, the Cardinal shrieked, and they struck. Shadows flared along the walls as Ciaran lashed them into spears. Hope’s daggers cut air and flesh alike. Jake roared with every swing, his Harming hands splitting bone.
The corridors reeked of rot and death, but the Cardinal bird never faltered, never slowed.
Then it happened.
The walls shook. The air cracked. The ground trembled beneath their feet. Not stone, not magic—something deeper. The unmistakable panomquake of a soul collapsing.
Ayla.
Lenna froze mid-stride. The sound tore through her chest, hollowing her out. Her twin’s presence—always there, like a hum beneath her ribs—snuffed out in a heartbeat.
“No.” The word left her throat as a snarl, as a sob. “No!”
Jake slammed a bloody hand against her back, pushing her forward. “Keep moving!” His jaw clenched, his silver eyes shining with fury.
Hope didn’t slow. She ran harder, black braids streaming behind her. Ciaran’s shadows shook, crawling across the ceiling in jagged patterns, reacting to the raw grief that had ripped through them all.
Lenna’s scream rose, sharp and primal. It was a sound not meant for human throats.
Her legs carried her anyway. Because if she stopped, she would shatter. And if she shattered, she would never avenge Ayla’s death.
The leading Cardinal gave one last cry and burst through a towering set of doors.
They crashed into the Cardinals’ Temple.
And there she was.
The Cardinal Queen stood at the center beneath the crystal dome, where the heart of Thyria pulsed. Feathers cloaked her like a dress—raven-dark, layered and endless. Her wings stretched wide, blotting out the glow above, each feather edged with oil-slick shine. Her skin was pale as bone, lips blood-red, eyes bottomless black pits that reflected no light, no life. Her hair was long, black as her feathers, falling like a river down her spine.
She grinned.
“I was waiting for you,” the Queen said, staring at Hope, voice silken venom.
Lenna’s eyes dropped to the floor—and broke.
Two bodies lay there, side by side. Shackled. Motionless. Ayla’s hair spread across the stone, her face slack, lips pale. Nina beside her, her hand almost touching Ayla’s as if reaching for her even in death.
Lenna’s breath ripped out of her chest. She aimed to move forward, but her knees nearly gave way. “Ayla.” Her twin’s name was a prayer and a curse in the same breath.
Her fingers twitched for her blades. She wanted to cut the Queen apart feather by feather, wanted to rip her wings from her body and scatter them into the Core. Rage surged like fire through her veins, uncontrollable, uncontainable.
Jake grabbed her wrist before she could step forward. His grip was iron, grounding her. His hand trembled with the same rage, the same grief, but he kept her tethered.
“Not yet,” he whispered.
Her vision blurred with tears, but she didn’t fight him. Not now. Not with Hope stepping forward.
