Bones crack beneath my boots as we approach the hill. I stare up at Perth, catching his serpentine gaze. Fire sparks in my own.I’m coming for you.
79
Rosalina
Iwonderwhatmyold boss Richard would think of me now: Rosalina O’Connell, bookseller, dashing out into a battlefield of fae and monsters. I’m not sure why my mind drifts that way. Perhaps because I spent so many days hunched over a book, lost in an epic battle of good and evil, while rain pelted the streets of Orca Cove.
But my old life is far away, and now I must get to my mate. The scroll is tucked safely in my satchel, along with my water skin, snacks, and emotional support book.
The battle blazes around us. My heart pounds in my chest, and I follow the pull to Farron. I’m not a warrior, but I can’t stand idly by while my friends fight for their lives. This spellcanhelp. Billy and Dom are at my side, their flame-coated swords held high as they cut down the wraiths that cross our path.
The sound of steel ringing against steel resonates, and the acrid smell of smoke fills my nostrils. Billy and Dom battle with sharp ferocity. Gone are the young twins. Now, they move with the grace and speed of predators. I suppose that’s how they were able to make it through the Briar all the way to Castletree.
Tension lines their faces as they fight, but they don’t falter. They are determined to protect me, no matter what. The incessant tug pulls me onward.
“We’re close!” I call out.
“Right then!” Billy grins, a burst of flame erupting from his palm as he hurls it at a nearby wraith.
“Let’s not slow!” Dom dives, slicing the ankles of another creature so it topples in a clatter of bones.
A boom sounds, and the ground shakes beneath my feet as a gigantic winter wraith crosses our path. Not as fresh as the newly turned fae, nor is it as decayed as the skeletons, this monstrosity walks between. Its skin sags, nearly peeling off the bone, and it sways a massive, bloated stomach. Perhaps once it had been some form of gigantic goblin—or something worse. It carries a spiked club in one hand.
The stench of rot hits me. Dom and Billy give a determined nod to each other before engaging the monster. The monstrosity swings its arm, club scraping against the ground. The brothers dodge.
Despite their efforts, the massive wraith refuses to go down. Its rotting skin seems impervious to damage. Billy finally pierces its gut, tearing his thin flesh. A putrid ooze of black guts spills out. But it’s not enough to deter the creature. It flails its club again, and Billy barely evades the hit.
“Keep going, Rosalina!” Dominic yells. “We’re so close!”
“We’ll hold it off! Don’t stop running!”
Fear thumps wildly in my chest. They mean for me to go on alone? Suddenly, the sounds of the battlefield are so loud. But my mate bond sings within my chest; he’s not far away.
Desperately, I survey my surroundings. Farron is northwest. I turn in that direction. There’s an outcrop of rock near Coppershire’s wall—I could sprint there and get my bearings before continuing.
I give a determined nod to Dom and Billy, then dart into the fray.
I run as fast as I can through the battlefield, my heart pounding in my chest. The fae soldiers fight with a fierce determination, their swords of fire clashing with the wraiths, but cries of the wounded and dying fill the space between.
A wraith falls in my path, an arrow to its head. I scream, stumbling back. A heartbeat later it’s writhing in green flame then standing, body renewed by the foul magic of its master.
How can we fight an enemy that won’t remain dead?
I scramble away; the rocks are close now. I can’t see Farron, can barely feel him through my fear. I try to stay out of the way, dodging and weaving between the combatants.
A cloaked figure strides through the battle, seemingly unbothered by the destruction. He pulls down his hood.
My blood runs cold with a familiar fear.
A fear I’ve felt long before ever coming to the world of the fae.
The green glimmering crystal highlights the harsh jaw, that cruel smile. A smile I know all too well.
“It can’t be,” I whisper, rooted to the spot, unable to run. Unable to move. “He’s dead. He’s dead.”
A sickening feeling courses through my blood. But this army we’re fighting… They’re all dead, aren’t they?
Lucas wears a similar crown to that of Perth Quellos. There’s still a tinge of red in his hair, and the glowing crystal casts his frosted skin a sickly green. Vibrant blue lines etch up and down his neck like a haphazard stitch.
