Page 134 of Fallen Nocturne

She will be a target.

The plateau stretches wide and flat when we arrive, ringed by ancient stone formations and low ridges. Thousands of soldiers are already gathering beneath the banners of Aelfheim. Vayne’s orcs hold the center while teams of elves dig trenches and raise palisades across the open ground.

Far beyond them, something dark stains the horizon.

The Fae King’s army.

Even from here, I can see the towering shapes of mammoths moving through the haze.

We dismount near the rear of our forces. My boots strike the ground, and pain pulses through the mate bond so sharply that I have to grip the saddle until it passes.

They haven’t stopped hurting Landon.

I force the thought aside and turn toward the summoning ground. Twelve empty spaces have been cleared in the earth, each surrounded by several waiting mages. They cannot draw the circles or call anything from Astefar. Only I can do that. Their task is to anchor the magic once I open the passages and keep the circles from collapsing while the ancient fae cross into our world.

Bowls of salt, powdered chalk, and water have been arranged beside each space, ready for me.

“How many will you summon?” Arescaine asks quietly.

I look toward the approaching darkness on the horizon. “As many as I can call.”

He says nothing to that.

The wind carries the distant thunder of thousands of marching feet across the plateau. Twelve may not be enough.

I step into the first circle and kneel. The runes flare beneath my palms as I call into Astefar.

The earth opens.

Calling from Astefar is not like reaching into a cupboard. It is like reaching into a wound. You push past the pain of it, past the dark that presses back, and you find the things that live there waiting.

They are always waiting.

“I call upon the pact between crown and fire. I offer blood freely given, passage into the waking world, and a battle worthy of your hunger. In return, I ask that you fight beside my armies. When the battle ends, you return to the dark. Those are my terms.”

I close my eyes and search through the darkness until I feel the first presence watching me.

“Hellios,” I call. “Will you answer me?”

I draw my dagger across my palm without hesitation. Blood pools in the hollow of my hand. I hold it out to him. His fingers close over mine. The blood hisses and turns to steam where it meets his skin.

“Terms?” he rumbles.

“You fight until the battle is done,” I say firmly. “You harm no one wearing Aelfheim’s colors. When it’s over, you go back.”

His mouth splits into something that might be a grin. “And if I refuse?”

“Then you stay in the dark and miss the fire.”

For several heartbeats, nothing moves.

Then roots split the ground inside the circle.

The god drags himself through, tall as an oak and darkened by ancient fire. The soldiers nearest the circle retreat.

Hellios lowers his face toward me. “Will there be fire, little worm?”

“More than you could ever want,” I promise him.