"Killian," I gasped, rising to my feet.
"Mare, wait—" Liam protested, reaching for me.
I slipped from his grip and ran back to the square where we'd left the Paragon behind. The remains of a massacre awaited me.
The stench of burned flesh and fur choked the air. Dead monsters—piles of charred darkness—littered every corner.Stumbling over the bodies of men and beasts, I found what I sought.
And my heart sank.
Silver armor, splattered with blood, shone in the dying light of the stars. Kneeling beside the Paragon's body, I rolled him over. The blood wasn't his. His armor was unbroken; no wounds tore his flesh.
Throbbing purple veins covered his face and trailed through his neck. The shadows hadn't bested Killian. He'd overextended—used every ounce of his magic, of his life, to keep us safe.
I sat back on my heels, staring at the disfigured face of a Paragon. Of a man who'd been alive mere minutes ago.
Paragons did not die often. Most only relinquished their titles when old age arrived to claim them.
Silence was all that remained. The sound, or lack thereof, was so unnatural, so wrong, I knew in my heart nothing else lived in this place.
Liam and I were the only survivors.
A gentle thrumming broke the hush. My eyes flicked to the black blade lying at Killian's side.
It had fallen dull. No longer did it shimmer with violet light. But I swore I'd seen the metal tremble, if only for a moment.
A footfall startled me from my thoughts. Liam limped to my side. His pale green eyes swept over the scene.
"Mare . . . " His voice cracked. "We have to get away from here."
"Away?" I echoed.
An unspoken question lingered between us. Neither of us voiced it.
Why had we lived?
The blade thrummed again.
I couldn't drag a man's body across the countryside, but I could carry his blade. Paragon weapons had been the pride ofthe Empire for centuries. I could not risk one getting destroyed or lost.
Taken by the darkness.
Reaching out, I grasped the hilt and dragged the heavy steel toward me. Flashes pulsed behind my eyes. Of the death, the blood . . .
and the way that dragon had looked at me, before sparing my life.
Wrapping both hands around the blade, I drew it into my lap. "Liam," I said, barely a whisper.
"He . . . " Liam swallowed. "He protected us. Made sure someone survived."
I glared at him, and he met my gaze with equal intensity.
If anyone—anyone—learned the shadowspawn had spared us, we would be condemned.
A pyre would await us if the fates were kind.
If they were not . . .
"Mare," Liam repeated, grabbing my shoulder. "Please."
