Power raged out of me like a tempest, sending Isolde stumbling back. The balcony above groaned before a cascade of loose stone thundered down, the impact swallowing her completely.
I reached for Ronan, his voice echoing in my head as his shields collapsed. I turned, watching him in the chaos, the flare of moonlight catching on his armor, his wings expanded and terrible. He stood across the hall facing Obrann who stood protected by a force shield, their words reaching me in broken fragments through the bond.
“Give me the key, Ronan.” Obrann’s tone was edged in panic. “You can still save her.”
The key?
I blinked, looking between them. I didn’t like how that word felt. Like metal in my mouth. Like something I should already know.
Ronan growled, the sound rolling through my chest. “She’s dead.”
Obrann laughed, a brittle, joyless sound. “Dragons are liars by nature. You think your father spared you with the truth?”
The words hit us both but before I could reach for him, Isolde was on me, fast, unhinged madness lurching behind her eyes. Her strike rattled against mine, light and void devouring one another. Through the bond, I felt Ronan’s heart hammer once, twice.
“You don’t know what really happened that day,” Obrann said. “Why Rhydan betrayed his own. Why he turned.”
Ronan didn’t stop. He slammed his power against the barrier surrounding Obrann again and again, every strike fracturing only the air.
Obrann didn’t even flinch, only trailed his fingers along the inside of the shield, admiring. “He wanted to save her. Rhydan trained you for blood, for war too. But mostly for vengeance. Forher.To destroy who took her. Because she begged him not to save her. She begged him to saveyouinstead.”
The remnants of the words lingered as Isolde hissed behind me. I turned on her, magic detonating from my palms. The force threw her back into the wall as I trembled with power I no longer tried to contain. Still, through it all, I felt Ronan. And he was breaking.
“Your lies are as thin as your false courage,” he said, watching the barrier begin to flicker.
“She was taken from him.” Obrann noticed it too, but pretended otherwise, swallowing deep when he said, “And Rhydan tried to bring her back. But he failed. Becauseyoukilled him.”
Through the haze where Ronan stood, I saw it, his power falter, the edges unraveling as if being unmade. Down the bond I felt it too—the faint, dying ember of him.
Ronan snarled, “I protected my kingdom from false kings like you. You knew the stones were fake and you sought them anyway.”
Obrann flinched then, stumbling back as the barrier faded in and out. “Of course I knew,” he choked, searching the room for Isolde’s form like a coward seeking his queen. “But that doesn’t mean they aren’t useful.”
Ronan’s voice dropped into something darker. “The power you feel, the one devouring what’s left of you—” He nodded toward Obrann’s trembling hand. “It was never yours. You thought she gifted it to you...but she’d been feeding off you. Every spell. Every drop of it.”
Obrann froze, tendrils rolling up his legs.
“You hand her that key,” Ronan said, “and she’ll unchain Deimos herself. Are you so certain fate will stay merciful? Are you so sure hecan’trise?”
Obrann roared, his hands clenching, those cursed rings dimming from fevered violet to dull iron. No longer devouring. No longer deific. The shield wavered once more, then sputtered out completely.
And out of the fissure, Isolde stepped. Her gown was shredded, face streaked crimson and black though somehow still proud with victory. She didn’t bother to hide the satisfaction twisting across her mouth.
“You thought I’d ever let you be a God?” she laughed. “You were never more than a vessel. A stair on my ascent. And you were too damn stupid to see it.”
Before he could respond, her serpent attacked, fangs flashing as it sank them into Obrann’s neck. He choked out a cry, stumbling backward, black veins already racing down his chest as he fell.
Poison met flame as Isolde lunged for Ronan. He met her head-on, his smoke snaring around them in a living crash. Isolde moved with inhuman grace, laughter slicing sharper than his steel. Her curse pulsed, every strike of hers laced in venom as black ichor spilled down her arm, thrilling her.
“Still fighting for something you can’t save?” she taunted.
Ronan answered with a rage that was too quiet.
That’s when Obrann, bleeding, half alive, dragged himself upright, turning toward me. “Trust is such a delicate thing, isn’t it?” He staggered closer, eyes shining with something restless. “Especially when it’s built on borrowed memories. I wonder...did he ever tell you how he found you in those woods, or why you were there to be found? A God’s daughter,” he clicked his teeth, “seems such an unlikely place to be forgotten.” He laughed weakly, the sound more cough than breath. “No... I didn’t think so. The guardian did play his part rather well, didn’t he?”
My pulse slammed into my ears, words coming out too fast, too sharp. “You’re lying.”
The smile he gave was fractured, blood streaking his teeth. “Am I?” The ground shifted beneath me, something inside my ribs strained. “They were always so sure, weren’t they? The guardian and the saint. Thinking they could outwit prophecy. Pretend ignorance long enough to change its course.”
