The plan I created.
The darkest shadows begin to paint his hands as he dives into his magic, building a wall of darkness from pure fear and rage. The memory of leaving Daramveer hits me as I see the wall rise, the shadows being stacked brick by brick, and obscuring my view of the shore, my friends, and Silas. This feels familiar because I’ve seen it before, except this time, I’m the one sailing into danger while Silas remains on the pier—safe for now. The wall rises higher and higher until the only thing visible is the faint flicker of torches through the thick shadows.
I turn away as Shadow and Lumor Wielders rush around the deck. I scan each one to see if Larkin is nearby, but I don’t spot him.
The water around us heaves and swells, while the roaring wind seems to pulse with tension, anticipating the impending battle that is about to begin. A flash of white catches my eye in the crow’s nest, and I see Larkin standing there, surveying our surroundings. I ensure my axes are properly positioned and begin to climb up the shrouds toward the highest mast, where Larkin perches.
My arms burn as I reach the top and climb onto the small surface that seems miles above the ground. My heart races, and my palms are slick with sweat as I observe my surroundings.
Gods, I fucking hate heights.
Larkin huffs a laugh as I grasp onto the rail, as if any moment I’m going to fly over the edge. My legs wobble, and a tingle starts in my hands.
“I forget your insane fear of heights,” he laughs, as he turns to me. “Oh, I’d better say ‘falling from heights’ before you yell at me.”
“Thank you for correcting yourself,” I say, and quickly catch my breath, refusing to look down as I hear the groan of the ship below.
“See anything?” I ask.
“Look,” he responds, and points.
I look across the sea, and that’s when I see them—the two ships in the near distance. They are not ones I recognize, and they bear no indication of which kingdom they come from. Their sails are torn to pieces, the wood nearly as black as the sea, and I can hear a thundering coming from the ship—a steady drumbeat preparing them to fight. I can barely make out the heads standing on the boat, but from what I can see, the entire deck is filled with horrifying creatures. Nerves settle into my core like buzzing bricks, and I grab the railing to keep my hands from shaking.
Larkin looks ahead. “Remember when we first met up here?”
“I wouldn’t call that a meeting, Larkin.” I turn to him. “You wouldn’t even look at me, similar to now.”
He smiles and peels his gaze to mine. “Are you ready?”
“I think so,” I respond. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t scared.”
“Battle is ugly, Briar. It's so ugly, but whatever happens, you can’t stop.” He looks back toward our uncertain future. “You need to swing those axes until the last creature falls. No matter how tired you are, keep moving, because once you stop, they will take advantage of any weak spots. Use your magic, but sparingly—you can’t run out.”
I nod.
“Don’t worry about anyone around you. Focus on the creatures and fight.”
My stomach rolls, and I can’t help but grab his hand to keep my nerves steady.
“I will worry about you,” I admit.
“Don’t.”
I narrow my gaze. “Too bad.”
He smiles.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
“To wipe these fucking creatures from this realm? Absolutely.”
“Aim for the nape of their necks,” I advise. “They are weakest there and go down easily if you can injure them enough with the first blow. Hitting their arms or legs does nothing, so don’t waste your time trying to aim there.”
“What do they look like?” he asks.
I flinch at my memories. “Awful. They look familiar, but haunting—alive, but dead—and something about how they resemble who they once were is more frightening than the creatures that stalk these woods.”
“Do you think we will know any of them?”
