Page 141 of Wraithwound

Laney’s feet hit the floor, and she bolted toward Taryk, a small dagger clutched in her hand. Taryk tucked her behind him before twirling the sword in his hand and stalking toward the creature. Demara backed up, clenching the stump of what used to be her hand, black blood spurting from the wound. Nearby some of the creatures snarled while others turned to sniff the air in her direction. Demara unhooked her black, leathery wings and ran for the clearing, avoiding the beasts that chased after her.

With one last look at her friends, Lena turned toward the Revan Temple and made a run for the bottle. She cleared the portal with a leap and winced as she landed on her injured leg.

Inside, the air was stale. The Revan Temple had been abandoned since the Goddess disappeared and the healing spring that originated there dried up. Lena reached out with sodden hands and picked up the delicate bottle, observing the missing piece in the side. She sent a question inward to Runa and Draven, who seemed to be just as stumped about what to do. She pulled the stopper off the top.

Nothing happened.

Lena inspected the bottle, turning it slightly to get a better look at the details when the hole on its side caught her attention. She had seen that shape before and the same shade of vibrant green . . . except she’d been told it was an emerald. Putting the stopper in the bottle, she limped toward the portal that would lead her into the Tower of Two Worlds, hoping her guess was correct.

Once she passed through the invisible barrier, her body seized. White hot pain lanced through her so intensely it stole the air from her lungs. Runa and Draven roared inside her. Unable to stay upright, she collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain as the Tower’s ancient power assailed her, leaching the life from her body.

It occurred to her then that the tower no longer recognized her. Malnik had told her that it was particular about who it allowed to enter. Since taking Draven in, she was no longer the same being. Lena sobbed as the pain cut deeper, past her bones and flesh and into her soul. Her very essence. There was no escaping it. They were going to die. Runa and Draven’s roars melded together, sounding like a keening wail that threatened to split her mind. She thought of Cross’s face, the sorrow there. She’d felt it too. The regret of how things had ended and sadness for what could have been. They were just two people who’d set out to save those they loved. In the end, he’d chosen to save her. To give her one last shot at life.

Hope to live, Cross had told her.

And she decided she would.

Clutching the bottle to her body, she dragged herself across the uneven stones. She only had to make it to the pillar where she’d left her cloak and then the darkness could take her. Every excruciating inch left her gasping for breath as she braced on her forearms and pulled, her injured leg pulsing in pain as she dragged herself forward until at last, Lena reached her pack.

The searing pain was unrelenting, and she bit her cheek to keep from screaming as she worked to pull the cloak out of her bag. And there, pinned into the thick fabric of her mother’s cloak, was the broach. Lena didn’t hesitate; she used her nails to pry the large stone from the metal. Holding it between her thumb and index finger with a trembling hand, she held it up to the side of the bottle. The emerald-shaped piece of glass was ripped from her fingers and sucked into the side, completing the viridescent bottle. As her vision grew black, she reached out one last time and pulled the stopper from the bottle. At first, nothing happened, and hope evaporated in her chest, but then a thunderous roar erupted from the narrow opening, and Lena’s world went white.

Chapter

Seventy-Eight

Lena died. Again. Runa and Draven too. At least the pain was gone. She could only hope that now that the Goddess had been freed, the danger to her planet and the others would end. Malnik had fled. After pulling in Draven’s essence and being exposed to his knowledge, she understood Demara had been too weak to pull energy from, and Malnik was left with no other option. Perhaps the others would be able to track him down. That or the Goddess would intervene once more. But Cross. She’d been assured by the wraiths that he was alive although she couldn’t comprehend how it would be possible in the scorching landscape that had burned Vince to ash. She hadn’t had time to ask. Even so, she knew they spoke the truth. It would have to be enough.

Lena drifted along for a while, and then, tiny lights blinked into existence. At first, it was just one, then two, then three. Slowly, the lights blinked into view, and then, there were many. So many, there must have been millions of them. The blue-white lights twinkling brightly against the darkness. It brought her comfort, reminding her of the night Cross had taken her “star gazing.” She’d wanted to honor Cross’s request; she really had. But it was too late.

Lena let go. If this was death, then⁠—

“You are not dead. But will be soon,” a voice said.

Were the stars speaking to her? Lena closed her eyes. She wanted to ignore the voice, fade into the memory of her and Cross at the cavern. A tug from inside seemed to pull her from the comforting dark.

“Where am I?” Lena asked.

“You are where all creatures reside. In my embrace,” the voice whispered from all corners of the darkness.

Quintessa. Lena was speaking to the Goddess herself. A gasp got caught in her throat as the reality of it dragged her consciousness forth.

“My brother, Henry, please—” Lena started.

“Your brother is where he belongs,” she replied, finality in her voice.

Lena’s heart sank, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the darkness.

“Will I go back?” Lena heard herself ask.

“No. There will be nothing to go back to. You will all cease to exist once I am restored.”

“Everything will cease to exist?” Lena asked.

“Yes,” she replied simply.

Suddenly, the darkness around Lena felt like less of a comfort and more like an all-consuming abyss. The truth of Quintessa speared into her then, and she knew it was only because the Goddess allowed it. She was life and death, hope and despair; she was wonder and joy. She wasn’t merely a Goddess, although she wore that form sometimes. For Eteris, Oscurra, and SecaTerr, Quintessa was creation and destruction. Just as easily as she could create, she could destroy.

And she would.