I howl, pushing harder on my magic, cracking the abutments that hold up the bridge, then shattering them.
“Ez, you know we’re stillonthis thing, right?” Dayton yells.
The ground begins to tremble, then full-out shake.
“They willneverhave Voidseal,” I say. “Their army will go down with it.”
“Rosie, get us out of here!” Farron screams.
The earth rumbles, then the stone under us gives way as the entire bridge, from east to west, collapses. Jagged shards of rock fall as we plummet.
“Rose! Now!” I call.
“I’m trying!” Briars whip out and entangle my body. Rosalina careens downward, threads of briars grabbing each of us. Then she jerks a hand toward the chasm wall, shooting an anchor for it.
I feel the moment she hits, and I jerk to the side. The movement twists me so I’m staring at the bridge.
Or what it used to be.
Now, there is only a chasm. No more warden. No more protection.
But also…no more army.
Hundreds of underfae plunge downward. How long will they fall before their bodies shatter on the stone? Minutes? An hour until they reach the bottom?
A flash of light erupts beside me, and I see the green-horned woman clinging to an outcrop of rock along the wall of the chasm. Dangling below her is the slate-skinned underfae with massive antlers. He turns his head to stare at us, eyes intent on Rosalina.
Just as I’m pulled into the earth by the briars, I catch sight of one more thing. A small flying contraption. Perth Quellos avoids the falling rocks as he ascends toward the top of the chasm. The bastard survived.
But there’s someone on the back of his contraption, stone-still, dressed in all-black armor.It can’t be.
Rosalina whips me and her other mates into the earth just as the final foundations of Voidseal shatter forever.
Part Three
Shadow Forged
43
Rosalina
Idon’t recognize the reflection in the mirror. The pointedears I’ve gotten used to, and the fineness of the clothes. My hair is longer than it’s ever been, but it still curls in the same way, in wayward strands.
It’s my face. The solemness in my eyes. The stern line of my mouth.
Is this the face of a leader?
Is this why my mother left the Vale? She couldn’t stand to look at the person she’d been forced to become? I’ve waged a single battle and already fear I’m being crushed under the weight of it.
She ruled the Vale for five hundred years. No wonder she ran away. The trail of ghosts that must have followed her could carve its way across all four seasonal realms.
I pull the black veil over my hair. I’m wearing a high-necked dress of midnight wool, the skirt heavy with several petticoats. Wrapped around my shoulders is a stole of darkest fur with a matching muffler for my hands. It’s not a tradition of Winter, but some human customs are hard to break. It only feels right to wear black to a funeral.
There will be many memorials held over the next few days, for the valiant Tundrafolk who traveled from the north, for the Deep Guard who swore their lives to protect the Great Chasm. For the soldiers from Frostfang who obeyed their high prince’s command, and for the Kryodian Riders who have proven their loyalty to the Vale time and time again. And there will be services too for the airship crew, many of whom had followed Ezryn and Dayton from Spring and Summer. Their bodies are prepared for the long journey home.
But today, we honor the life of one man in particular.
Irahn, the warden of Voidseal Bridge.
