Page 316 of Burn of the Everflame

The faraway thunder rumbled again.

Louder.

Nearer.

“I spent centuries resenting this place. Even my own realm never truly felt like home. Then I met you—my daughter.” He raised his hand to my cheek. “How can this world not be my home when you are in it? For you, I will abandon this fight, and we can rewrite the blank slate anew.”

It was everything I’d longed to hear him say. He was giving up his vengeance and choosing love over hate, choosing me. If he could let go of the scars upon his soul, then so could I, and together, we could heal. My most vulnerable, most indestructible hope—a chance to save us both.

But if my mate had taught me anything, it was that some scars weren’t meant to heal. Some scars, we keep . . . to remind us how we got them, and to prove how much we could overcome.

“You speak of saving this place,” I said. “This continent. This world. But never of these people.” Though everything in me begged to look away, to not see the answers, I forced myself to hold his stare. “What did you do in Umbros, Ophiucae? Why have my messages to Arboros gone unanswered?”

The air around us seemed to chill in his silence, though my chest felt hotter than ever.

“I saw the Challenging in your mate’s memories,” he said. “You loved making the Descended bend to your will and kneel.” He leaned in close. “You may try to deny it, but you and I are the same. The fire that burns in you is one I lit.”

The heat inside me spiked, thrashing with an angry resolve.

“There is a darkness that binds us,” I agreed. “Things that are beautiful, too. When we care for someone, we care deeply. I see the light inside you, wishing the world had let it shine.”

I leaned back, heart slowly breaking as his hand slipped from my cheek and fell away. I saw in his eyes that he knew I’d finally made my choice.

“You’re making a grave mistake,” he warned.

“As long as you live, the people I love will never be safe. No one will.”

The approaching thunder was so loud now that it seemed to be one continuous roar. I tilted my face to the sky, letting the blood sun soak into my skin and feed the heat within me as I fought the tears that begged to fall.

“If you deny me, Diem, there will be a cost.”

My hands tightened on the handle of my sword.

“I know,” I whispered.

Sorrow’s Edge swung, and Dristan’s lifeless body hit the ground.

In the distance, a wobbly line took shape between the sky and the stony flatlands. I swiped the back of my hand across my glistening cheeks, then turned on my heel and strode toward my army.

“He’s coming,” I said loudly. “Everyone, prepare to fight.”

71

LUTHER

“First wave . . . engage.”

The front lines of Diem’s soldiers launched forward, surging past Alixe onto the crowded battlefield. Thunderous clatter rang out as two armies smashed together in a violent crash.

The question of what happened in Umbros and Arboros had revealed its gruesome answer. Within minutes, the dark line on the horizon had grown into a massive legion of glassy-eyed soldier-slaves. No mortal, Descended, or half-mortal had been spared. The rest of Vance’s men—minds erased, just like the others—were scattered among them. The Descended who’d stayed behind in Ignios and Faunos had met a similar doom.

“Mortal healers to the back, archers to our left,” Alixe shouted. She rode up and down the lines, looking focused but composed. “Remember your training. And don’t forget to guard each other’s backs. You’re one army now. Fight about your differences after we kick their ass.”

Scattered laughter rippled through the ranks. Her confidence was contagious, and many tightened shoulders eased. Even Diem’s spirit felt markedly less burdened, though dried tear streaks marred the godstone smeared across her face.

“He’s here,” she murmured, eyes narrowed on a glowing silhouette at the back of the enemy horde.

“It could be an illusion to hide his true location,” I warned.