Page 141 of Burn of the Everflame

Then I did the thing I’d been fighting for weeks: I opened my heart, fully and without reserve, to the man I loved. I let my feelings for him flow free, filling the empty cavern chiseled in my soul with his brilliant, calming light.

My godhood shivered with joy, rolling and stretching like a cat in a spot of sun. It seemed almost amused as my feet instinctively began to walk toward Luther, my true north. I would have found him much sooner, had I not locked up my love so tightly even I couldn’t reach it.

I pulled his body from the rocks, unconscious and badly battered. It was nothing magic couldn’t mend, but it wouldn’t be quick, and the sound of fighting was growing nearer.

“Heal his wounds, then make him rest,” I ordered the healers, knowing he would allow no such thing. Even after our fight, he would run to my side the moment he awoke. “Tell him I’m safe. Lie, if you must.” I ran for the city, shouting over my shoulder. “And don’t you dare heal his scar!”

I squinted through the haze of dark smoke billowing from scattered fires. Too many buildings lay in ruins. My heart ached, thinking of the soldiers who’d been hiding inside them. How had Ophiucae breached the city? Even hidden by illusions, I should have sensed his approach. The fact that I still couldn’t feel his aura sent dread slinking up my spine.

I jogged back to retrieve Sorrow’s Edge when I heard a gurgling groan from Francis’s body. I knelt and laid a finger on his wrist. It was a miracle he had a pulse, considering where the arrow had pierced him. His eyes fluttered as scarlet liquid dribbled from his lips.

I wanted to believe it was a healer’s reflex, not my own pitiful weakness, that sent healing magic flowing from my fingers. Unfortunately for Francis, Ophiucae’s shield was too strong for it to get through. What was meant to protect Francis had now become his tomb. I murmured the Rite of Endings as I watched understanding, then terror flicker over Francis’s face.

“I’m sorry,” I said, and I meant it. I looked at my sword’s godstone blade, wondering if the kindest thing to do was to end his suffering now.

And then I remembered Sophos. During the attack, Luther and I, along with the Sophos guards, had combined our magic to build a massive shield. The strategy backfired when Ophiucae brushed his fingers against it and siphoned our magic for himself. Could I do the same?

I set my palm against Francis and let my magic test the shield that encased him. Not pushing or piercing, but feeling. Merging. My skin began to tingle, then glow, and my godhood swelled with a surge of new fuel.

The enormity of it left me breathless. It was like sipping water from an ocean, but the more I drank, the more unquenchable my thirst became. Each gulp of potent magic left me greedier, pulling more than I needed, perhaps more than I could even hold. I wasn’t just absorbing it, I was swimming in it, bathing in its intoxicating caress.

Gods, what I could do with this much power. No mortal would ever suffer again. If I had this magic, I could bring a peace this world had never seen. No one would dare to defy me. One flick of my wrist, and even my most dangerous enemies would kneel.

A dark chuckle rumbled nearby.

“You’re more like me than I thought.”

Shadows clouded my vision, my eyes blinking through the fog as an image took shape: grey skies, hard soil, a raging fire, and trees. So many trees, blackened and leafless, gnarled branches in a canopy of tangled knots. The kind of trees I’d only ever seen in one place.

“Ophiucae,” I whispered. “You’re in Montios—the Forgotten Lands.”

An angry hiss shot out behind me, and I turned to see his glowing silhouette. “This is not Montios. This realm belongs to me.”

My stomach dropped. Ophiucae hadn’t come to Fortos with his army. He didn’t need to. His power was potent enough to cast his shield from half a continent away.

“What a troublesome child you’re turning out to be. Always underfoot, interfering with my plans.” His head cocked with a predatory tilt. “I said I would kill you, if you came to me like this again.”

I resisted the urge to shiver. “I don’t even know how I came here. I was never taught to use my magic. I saw what you did in Sophos, taking power from a shield. I only wanted to see if it was a gift I inherited.” My chin lowered. “You are my father, after all.”

Though I felt like a traitor using that word on anyone but Andrei, if it took stroking Ophiucae’s ego to gain his trust, so be it. His Umbros magic prodded at my head for some proof of deceit, but my mind was a vault his magic could not crack, as closed to him as his was to me.

“If you wish to learn from me, daughter, then come to my side. Show your obedience, and I will teach you everything I know.” His lips rose into an ominous smile. “There are a great many gifts you may inherit.”

“If I do, will you leave the Descended alone and let them live in peace?”

His amusement vanished. “I was offered no ‘peace’ when they cast me into the darkness to rot.”

“It wasn’t the Descended who did that. Must they all suffer for your siblings’ crimes?”

“The Descended have crimes of their own.”

“As do the mortals. As do you.” His eyes narrowed, and I hurried on. “My mother told me about the dreams you spoke of when you were locked in that cell. She said you wanted to help people and rid Emarion of war. I want those same things. Maybe I do take after you.” A nagging unease nipped at me with those words, but I shoved it aside, offering him an encouraging smile. “We could make the world better together.”

He closed the distance between us, head angling in curious study. “You have your mother’s face.” He raised a hand and let his fingertips rest on the crest of my brow, his skin glimmering a little brighter. “But you have my eyes.”

I wasn’t sure what to think about the buzzing warmth that spread through my chest. There was an unexpected gleam of affection hiding in his cold, colorless stare. He’d shown me so little kindness before. Then again, so little had been shown to him. Perhaps he did not know how.

Perhaps I could show him.