I glanced at Krait, sending a silent goodbye.
“We don’t fail. For Freya, for Ryn, for my mother...”
I slipped from Isleen’s back, plummeting down, sword first, without giving myself time to think about the height.
It felt like miles as I took aim.
The wind pulled at my cheeks.
Caym stared up and raised his hands—too late, fucker. You can’t compel a person to stop falling.
The sword pierced his chest.
Caym erupted in a flash of amber.
The force of his energy threw me back. I tumbled sideways through the air before hitting a solid marble wall. My vision faded as the putrid smell of Death filled the air and a smooth, deep voice shouted, “Sybilla!”
Chapter 65
Krait
Caym’s hold on me cracked.
I lifted the dark, airless prison of vines that held the others in the pit. Their gasps of relief sounded around me as I turned toward the podium. The Origin of Death had plummeted to ground level. Moirai swarmed us.
I needed to get to Caym, to let my Shadows tear him apart before he was able to get hold of me again. The ground shook. The amphitheater’s marble walls swayed.
Cassidee’s Griffith landed with a thud behind her partner. “Wyeth, get on!” she shouted with an outstretched hand. Amara stood at Mattock’s back, fighting off Moirai, and my officers were nowhere to be seen.
Fenris reached Asterie and Hurley, protecting them in a ring of flames from the onslaught of undead.
Then something glimmered above and caught my attention. Something was falling toward Caym.
Someone.
Sources, no.
“Sybilla!”
My hand slammed out; there was no time to craft Shadows to break her fall. It was too late.
She sank the sword deep into the Death Origin’s chest. Caym’s magic erupted out of him, and his skin crumbled like the burning pages of a book—his mouth hung wide before he turned to dust.
An amber blow of smoke knocked Sybilla backward and everyone in the pit off our feet.
It rattled the amphitheater’s already compromised walls.
She’d done it.
I rolled and ended up on my side. With a cough, I looked out into the arena. Every Moirai in the stands and pit began to collapse, disintegrating into heaps of putrid-smelling dust. Half of my realm was gone—sacrificed to Death’s path of destruction.
Groaning, I stood and fought through the settling amber fog, yelling, “Sybilla!”
Falling from that height would be lethal.
I didn’t let myself linger on that thought as debris rained down from the walls. The theater was going to cave in…I needed to find her.
Elsedora ran to me with tear-soaked cheeks.
