Page 303 of Burn of the Everflame

Diem’s arms fell to her sides, though her body shuddered with a mix of sobs and fury.

“You tortured that boy with your hubris,” he hissed. “You will never win this war if you’re not capable of taking lives.”

My mind filled with the memory of Diem in a fiery sea of orange and silver, a thousand Sophosian corpses burning at her feet. My fists curled.

“Do not speak to my Queen of what she is capable of doing,” I snarled.

Diem rose and walked to Symond, and I raised my shield around her. They stared at each other, separated by veils of shimmering black and glittering blue.

“Yrselle warned you,” he said. “About this. About Ophiucae. You didn’t listen.” Diem didn’t react, and Symond’s features rippled with disgust. “You’re still not listening, are you? You still think you can save everyone. The graves keep piling higher while the rest of us wait for you to be ready to hear.” He stormed past her. “Tell your brother to find another Centenary. I’ve had enough of your kind of help.”

Diem slowly sank back to her knees. She brushed the hair from Stuart’s forehead and placed a kiss on his cheek, then took his hand in hers. Her murmured words were lost in the echo of Symond’s footsteps, but I recognized enough to place the mortal Rite of Endings.

I walked to the base of the dungeon stairs, staring at Symond’s back as he climbed them to leave. “Yrselle warned you, too,” I shouted. “She said no one would escape this war, not even the Centenaries. Who’s the one that’s really refusing to listen?”

His footsteps paused—only for a second—then continued until a door creaked open and slammed.

I left Diem with her brother, grateful for the way he took one look at her reddened, swollen eyes and put her to work on his experiments to keep her busy. I returned to the dungeon and gathered Stuart’s body in my arms, carrying him out of the palace, out the front gates, and into the dark, moonlit woods, where I dug a shallow pit, then covered him with soil.

I stood at his gravesite in solemn silence, wrestling with a complicated guilt. I tried to recall the words of the mortal Rite of Endings, and when I failed, I turned instead to search the forest floor until I found a fallen branch, one end still green with leaves. I jabbed the other end into the grave and used a spark of Lumnos magic to set the branch ablaze. An effigy to the Everflame—the only other way I could think of to honor a mortal’s death.

I stayed until the fire died out, then smothered the dying embers with my shadows. I turned for the palace, but as I reached the forest’s edge, I heard fresh flames crackling behind me.

I wheeled around to douse them and caught a sudden flash of red, then total darkness. Even when I illuminated the trees with my light magic, everything around was bark brown or verdant green, and the burnt branch that marked Stuart’s grave showed no sign of rekindling.

The mysterious flicker of color stayed in my thoughts as I returned to Teller. Diem had gone somewhere with Lily, so I helped him gather his things and escorted him to the Centenaries. With dawn nearing, the various camps had begun to rise, and the sight of the new King Consort with a Centenary quickly attracted a crowd. When Drusila confirmed that Teller’s revised concoction was a success, they erupted in a celebration so loud, the rest of Diem’s army emerged from their tents.

I clapped Teller on the back. “I always suspected a Bellator would save us,” I told him. “I didn’t realize all of you would.”

He grinned. “You’re one of us now. Better do your part.”

I allowed myself a smile, though the heaviness of the morning still sat upon my heart. “I’ll find a way.”

“Oh my gods,” someone shouted behind me. “Look—in the sky.”

The sounds of cheering faded to murmurs and gasps. Teller’s gaze shifted over my shoulder and grew round. I instinctively reached for my blade, magic conjuring in the other hand as I turned, bracing for the sight of Ophiucae’s gryvern.

Instead, I saw the first sliver of sun peeking over the horizon and casting its glow across the camps. A scarlet glow.

A blood sun had arrived.

68

DIEM

The blood sun threw our morning into chaos. For the mortals, it was a warning from the Old Gods, a sign of something terrible to come. Fear spread like a contagion, and when the time came to leave for Fortos, many—far too many—refused.

I gave an impassioned speech to remind them of the importance of this battle, but it persuaded few. The same omen had appeared on the eve of the Blood War, and the mortals were still scarred from the massacres of that loss.

Then I revealed something deeper—that the two blood suns we’d had since held special meaning for me. The first had marked my birth, and the second came the day my mother disappeared and my life changed forever. Both days had set me on the path that brought me here.

If the blood sun is a harbinger of destruction, I told them, then the destruction it warns of is mine.

They took it as a violent promise of what I would do to my enemies. I’d meant it as something much darker, but the misunderstanding worked in my favor. With a bit more urging from my mother, most eventually relented to come.

Among the Descended, the blood sun had the opposite effect. For them, it was a promise from the Kindred of victory and prosperous days ahead. When the Houses of Lumnos City arrived with their gleaming armor and pristine weapons, it more than made up for the numbers we lost among the mortals.

It left me wondering if that had been the Old Gods’ intention all along.