“I hate to say ‘I told you so…’” Ronyn mutters.
The next alchemical mist detonates on the Nullveil with a vicious hiss, singeing small holes through it.
Elyssara runs through the dome, frantically patching the holes, Lightborne magic sealing the damage.
But not fast enough.
They unfurl another blast of mist.
Another.
Until it begins to disintegrate entirely.
Teddy’s eyes fix on Rhyven before the Starborn lines. “He’s watching us.”
“Let him,” I snarl. “We’ll be the last thing he sees.”
A chorus of low, hateful grunts fills the dome—everyone still writhing against the earth.
“The plan would be very handy now,” Ronyn quips, still motionless on the stones.
“I can feel my feet,” Therion announces. “We weren’t exposed long. It’ll wear off quickly.”
“I can feel my fingers,” Jax breathes, emotions frayed.
But the Nullveil can’t hold. The alchemy is too strong.
Elyssara tries again. Desperate. Panicked.
She tries to summon her Lightborne magic but it gutters at her fingertips.
She opens and closes her mouth in silent horror. “I— I can’t feel it.”
Fuck.
“You’ve burned through your magic, El,” I explain, trying to keep my voice gentle and even, despite the panic that takes root in my chest.
Between repairing the Nullveil and searing through lines of soldiers, she’s got nothing left.
The holes caused by the mist bleed outward, joining together to form one large hole in the top of the dome.
“Duskae has no more to grant me,” she pants raggedly.
“It’s okay, my love,” I say from the ground, feeling returning to my feet. “Breathe.”
But she’s panicking.
Through the scrape of steel and the heaving of panicked breaths, another sound carries on the wind.
One I’ve heard before.
THUD! THUD! THUD!
And a smirk lifts the left side of my mouth.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE
ELYSSARA
