Page 354 of Burn of the Everflame

Diem’s eyes narrowed. “ . . . for ending my brother’s life?”

Her hands shot forward, and a blast of her Fire slammed into him, sending him hurtling into a column. I snatched Sorrow’s Edge from the ground and sprinted toward her.

Ophiucae groaned, clutching the burned, blackened flesh on his chest. “I knew you’d betray me. Just like everyone else.”

A fiery corona flickered around Diem as she ascended the stairs. She paused, and for a moment, I feared her pity for him had blinded her to his manipulation, but her hand extended—toward me.

I gripped Sorrow’s Edge by the blade, ignoring the bite of pain as it sliced into my flesh, and stretched it toward her open palm. The second her fingers brushed its handle, she clutched it and swung. Ophiucae rolled away, and the blade clanged against the Temple stairs.

Ophiucae kicked a leg out, catching Diem in the shoulder and knocking her back. I managed to grab her before she tumbled over the Temple’s side. By the time I steadied her, he’d vanished.

We climbed to the Temple’s round central platform. The heartstone, cracked but glowing, thrummed on its pedestal as if it sensed the battle being fought for its control.

“He’s behind one of these columns,” I whispered, scanning the nine arches representing each of the realms. Diem nodded, then slipped through an archway to creep around the Temple’s outer edge. I fought the urge to follow, holding back to see if her approach might flush him out of hiding.

My eyes drifted to an opening pointing toward what had once been the realm of Omnos. The Kindred had destroyed its arch long ago, polishing its remnants to a glossy shine to hide their secret. The only relic that remained was the sigil carved into the floor at its base—a ten-pointed star, the same one that Ophiucae had once used to mark Diem for his protection.

My anger flared at how he’d toyed with her heart, doling out fondness in between causing her pain. It reminded me far too much of Taran’s father and the way he’d treated his love as a reward for enduring his violence. It had infuriated me to see Diem sink into the same poisoned cycle in the name of family, something she had always kept sacred.

I hoped that she remembered that family could be whoever we chose, and those who hurt us never had to be part of our family ever again.

The ten-pointed star gave a sudden glimmer. I frowned, watching as it faintly glowed, then went dark.

I glanced at Diem, who was circling around the opposite side of the Temple. As she walked, the realm sigils etched above each archway glowed brighter, flaring in recognition of their Queen.

I looked back at the Omnos sigil, now dark, and slowly walked toward it. “Diem,” I called out, “I think he’s somewhere near⁠—”

The star abruptly blinked to life, beaming with light. Ophiucae appeared in the archway and barreled toward me. I crouched and rammed my shoulder into his chest, but he managed to get a hand around my sword and jostled it free. It rattled to the ground, and we both lunged to grab it.

“Luther!” Diem called out. The Temple flooded with light as her Fire shot toward us.

Ophiucae abandoned the sword and grabbed me instead, dragging me between him and her Flames. I braced for their burn, but the heat that consumed me was blissful, as tender as a stroke of her palm against my cheek.

Ophiucae did not fare so well. He screamed in pain as the Fire blistered his flesh. Blinded by its light, I felt along the ground for my sword, but just as my hand finally closed around it, an arm curled around my neck from behind and stiffened at my jaw, another hand gripping my temple.

“Stab me,” Ophiucae hissed in my ear. “I’ll heal from your wounds. Will you heal when I snap your neck?”

I weighed his threat. He was old—countless millennia old—but I had no way to know whether the Kindred’s age weakened their strength or enhanced it.

Ophiucae pulled us both to our feet. He gripped me against him as a shield as he backed away from Diem. “Use that magic one more time, daughter, and your mate dies.”

“Roast him,” I shouted to her.

But Diem’s hands lowered. Her Flames shrank back, then wisped to smoke, though her glare blazed. “If you hurt him . . .”

“I’d be doing him a favor. Tell me, does he know why he’s here? Did you tell him what you figured out before the battle?”

Diem’s eyes shifted to me as a sharp, painful ache filled our bond. “I don’t care,” I growled. “If it means he takes me with him when you destroy him, so be it. I’ll wait for you in the afterlife, my Queen.”

Ophiucae began to laugh, which only seemed to deepen Diem’s anguish. “Such devotion,” he mocked. “You really shouldn’t. She doesn’t deserve it. She’s a traitor, just like her mother.”

“She is like her mother,” I agreed. “A leader. A healer. The kind of woman that thousands line up to fight for. You’re just a small, pathetic man who had their love and wasn’t worthy enough to keep it.”

His grip tightened, choking off my words. “They’re liars. Their love is fickle and easily lost.”

Diem risked a step toward us. “What do you know of unconditional love?”

She lifted Sorrow’s Edge and drew its blade across her palm. As the dark red liquid spilled across the gem at its center, a wave of energy rippled around us. Across the Temple, two glimmering silhouettes took form—one kneeling, body shuddering with a ghostly wail, and the second standing just behind.