Magic curled around her body, familiar and welcoming, and Saoirse bolted upright, blasting away every dark creature within a ten-foot radius. She rolled to her feet, arms spread, vines and trees and gloriously deadly flowers all ready to strike with a single command. Her arm—Saoirse twisted it in the light, her mouth gaping. The muscles had completely repaired themselves, the skin entirely unmarred.
She might have continued to marvel were it not for the winged creatures that landed on all sides. She clenched her jaw. Surrounded. Again. But this time she had her magic.
Saoirse grabbed Zylah’s arm, hauling her up before throwing the female behind her body. She kept her grip firm, determined to prevent any of the new arrivals from snatching Zylah away. Airborne wasn’t a fight she was likely to win.
Saoirse let the vines and trees rise, but one of the winged creatures turned to her and placed a closed fist over their heart. Saoirse paused and took them in. Many had already engaged the Dark Fae. And they were … beating them back. Successfully.
Saoirse allowed herself a moment to study the new arrivals. Six feathered wings, three fanning out on either side, protruded from their backs. The female before her possessed a warrior’s body with plumage that blended smoothly with sections of skin. A name rose up in the back of Saoirse’s mind, but she couldn’t voice it. It—it wasn’t possible. They weren’t real.
A roar shook the earth and Saoirse jerked her head toward the front line.
Her heart nearly stopped.
Because standing there, body taller than any structure, scales glistening in the blue light, neck arching toward the sky, was a massive dragon with its wings spread wide. She gaped, awestruck. Two impossibilities in the matter of seconds. Saoirse didn’t know how. She couldn’t explain how she knew it, but that creature, their king, was her little brother in all his deserved radiant glory.
Vairik had tried to erase him from history. He’d tried to pit the world against him. Now the world was looking, their hearts filled with both trepidation and admiration. If the Fae could feel half of what she was experiencing right now, she knew their hope had been restored, too.
Saoirse cast a quick glance at Zylah only to find tears glistening in the female’s eyes. She followed Zylah’s gaze above, to the bird hovering over the entire land like a beacon of hope.
Rays of light still poured from her outstretched wings, luminescent against the sun’s bright rays.
So much made sense now. The strange fountain in Levea’s estate. The unexplained statues littered throughout Nàdair’s gardens. Ruadhán’s royal seal.
The world had known even if they’d forgotten. Vairik had tried to eliminate their memory, but it had been carved upon the land itself, forever ingrained into its existence.
The land knew.
This was the power gifted to them by the gods. Not the mating bond. Not an increase in magical strength. The ability to transform into something that would cleanse the land.
They just hadn’t known how to reach it until now.
Saoirse swallowed hard, took Zylah’s hand, and raised her blade in the air before roaring, the sound reverberating across the previously dismal battlefield.
Her second smiled at her, raised his blade, and echoed the call.
The harpies did the same, their cries more akin to an eagle than a Fae.
Saoirse roared again and Zylah joined her, the wind rising in a violent torrent.
Neither looked away from the two nearby, both shining and radiant.
Their lost monarchs.
The king and queen of Alastríona.
A phoenix and a dragon.
One to protect and one to heal.
Saoirse’s magic rose next, buzzing against her skin. She turned to face the Dark Fae when her little brother did. Her only regret now would be not seeing Vairik’s face as he realized ten thousand years of planning had finally failed.
Rion roared, reared his head back, and set the world on fire.
Chapter Fifty-Four
The King
Power pulsed through The King’s new body.
