Finally, it seems like the right time for the plan I formulated earlier, when they first ambushed us. I sprint to get closer, pumping my arms and legs like I never have before. My body is numb. My mind is numb. The magic that I feel inside of me is feeling low. But I push forward with a vengeance so powerful it feels like I could burn this entire battlefield with it.
But I don’t have fire. I have water.
And I use every ounce of energy, every ounce of power that I have, and I push a thin spray of water over the entirety of the battlefield, dousing every single torch in sight.
It’s the middle of the night. The entire field goes black.
Though I can’t see anything or anyone, shock and confusion seem to be thick in the air as rumblings and murmurs begin. It won’t last long. There are fire wielders out there.
This should give Daegan and Raef the moment they needed, though. Their odds couldn’t have been good as soon as they shifted back, and this will hopefully give them a life-saving chance to escape the onslaught.
Tiny flickers begin to light up, scattered all around. I douse them again.
But they keep coming.
Seeing a clear path, I make a decision. With one last glance at the battlefield, I run for the trees. I now hold the necklace and the blood. I cannot let them be taken and destroyed. I really hope that I’m not leaving them behind, but I believe they’ll take this opportunity to escape and head for the rendezvous point, knowing I’m doing the same.
The sword remains with Raef. He said he has a way of keeping it within his scales when he shifts. I have no idea how. Magic is rarely understood, though. If there were no mystery around it, it probably wouldn’t be considered magic at all, but something common that we do.
Lights begin to illuminate the scene behind me again, but everyone seems to be at a standstill. That’s good. There are at least a hundred elves still left out there, and only two dragon shifters. I hope and wish that the field willremain still, that it means Daegan and Raef are escaping too. I cannot think otherwise.
A brilliant white light emerges from where I was fighting not long ago, like a bright star in the night. A figure with glowing white hair and a white gown appears. Maethrel. Looking like an ethereal savior, come to help us.
I hope.
Behind him, shadows dance on the wind, howling and wailing.
Wraiths.
And there are others behind him. I have to squint to see, because at first it looks like an army of elves. But then I spot golden wings illuminated by their torches. The Arryzans. Maethrel brought them as reinforcements.
He knew about this battle.
Of course he knew.
Maethrel wastes no time giving the signal, and the black shadows move at an unnatural speed, taking on the army. The Arryzans hang back as they unleash their arrows into the fray. Hundreds of arrows soar through the sky, many of them meeting their mark. At this rate, what’s left of the elves will be cleared out within a few moments. The wraiths draining them of life is a terrifying sight to behold.
“Well, if it isn’t the princess herself.”
My heart leaps as I jump, holding my sword out toward the incoming voice.
At least a dozen soldiers approach me, pushing me back toward the trees. Leading the pack is a fool who’s about to meet his death.
Syrus Soraya. Meela’s father.
He picked the wrong time to try to corner me.
“You,” I say with disgust.
He has the audacity to look bored as he lifts his hands, readying to use his magic on me, but taking his time. He underestimates me.
“For Meela. And for Zave,” I say, sounding deadly calm.
He still doesn’t care. Nothing even flashes across his face as I say the names of the lives that were taken thanks to him.
My hands begin to glow blue. I release a raw, throat-ripping scream as I muster every trace of magic left in me and quickly freeze the water I’ve summoned into the sharpest spears of ice I can manage. He doesn’t stand a chance. In a blink, there are a dozen piercing his body in different places. One is straight through his eye. Deep.
He falls to the ground, dead on impact.
