Page 195 of Burn of the Everflame

“Diem—”

“Take Stuart and go.”

My body abruptly stiffened. Compelled by her magic, I unwillingly moved to obey. Even my magic seized to a stop, replaced by her shield as I hauled Stuart over my shoulder and strode into the thick of battle.

Behind me, I heard her whisper: “Retreat.”

Her magic rippled over the field. Every mind that had not been lost to Ophiucae jerked to a stop and swiveled for the forest, while Diem raised roots and rocks to keep the Sophosians from following.

When I walked beyond the tree line, my mind again became my own. I shoved Stuart away and bolted toward Diem, but the moment I stepped into the clearing, her Umbros magic forced me back into the woods. My stubborn fury succumbed to tortured acceptance. I could not save my Queen from her heartbreak, and I could not save these people from their doom.

I raised my palms, and I did the only thing I could—I helped her prepare the lambs for slaughter.

I crafted a vision on the opposite side of the clearing: an army that looked exactly like ours. Its sloppy, amorphous lines would never convince a close observer, but Ophiucae’s puppets were easily fooled. Most of them turned to wage war on my phantom legion, while the rest wandered in circles, unable to decide which foe they were meant to fight.

When Alixe reached the forest and jolted back into her mind, it didn’t take her long to understand. With a grave stare, she silently lifted her hands and began to help.

Soon, others joined. Those trained in illusions lent their magic to mine, while Alixe raised a veil over the forest to mask us from sight. Others shielded our fleeing army until everyone was safely shrouded in the trees.

At last, there was no one left but Diem and the wretched, unlucky souls from the Realm of Thought and Spark. They milled about like ants, clumsily swinging fists and weapons. At the center of the swarm, Diem stood untouched.

Alone.

Her head bowed, lips moving with words I couldn’t hear.

Auralie Bellator walked to the forest’s edge, lifted her chin, and spoke. Cordellia joined at her side, then more of the Guardians stepped forward, forming a long, unbroken wall as their voices carried across the field:

“End be your time, a trade in kind,

a life well-lived for peace to find.

Be not afraid, as shadows fade,

all pain and woe shall be unmade.

Now fate well-sealed shall be revealed,

for those whose worthy souls shall yield.

In love and calm, this holy psalm,

shall guide your soul to realm beyond.”

The mortals’ Rite of Endings.

When the last word echoed through the leaves, Diem’s trembling hand rose, upturned, and a spark of crackling pink energy fluttered toward the clouds.

“May the Blessed Kindred welcome them home,” I said loudly. I held out my hand and let a wisp of shadow curl around my palm before swirling into mist. Light glimmered through the trees as a scattering of magic from across the realms joined mine in offering.

Beside me, Alixe lifted her voice. “Archers, ready.”

“What are you doing?” I asked her.

“If our Queen must carry this burden, so will we.” Her chin rose. “Attack.”

Bowstrings hummed. The field was unnervingly quiet as arrows bounced off shields—quiet enough that I heard Diem’s quick intake of breath when other arrows hit their marks and Sophosians began to fall. Alixe sent up a signal, and another round of arrows flew from the trees at Diem’s back. More bodies thumped to the ground.

I turned my hand toward the clearing and sent out a spear of light. It soared into the horde of living dead, shattering a gleaming shield before piercing someone’s skull. The Descended in Diem’s army followed suit, unleashing their power and taking life after life.