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In that same instant, every bit of pain and torture Rayna had been through in the last twenty-four hours had come crashing through me, igniting me with an acute anger I’d never known before.

Yet in that instant, the connection between us had sharpened into something that could surpass Dyonisia’s antipower and all other forms of magic. Even when our worlds had snapped apart again, I’d been able to hear her again. Hear what she was thinking and respond in turn and know exactly where she was even while I battled elites and monsters above.

Her presence had burrowed into the compass of my heart, pointing me toward her so that I would never lose her again.

So as Old Veracious kissed Rayna’s throat, it whispered one final truth that suffocated Mydusia’s last command, making it wither and die on my skin.

Vigate.

CHAPTER

60

RAYNA

The sword clanged to the ground as Coen wrapped his arm around me. His other hand surged forward to grip my face, fingers on my neck, thumb cradling my jaw, and our lips met with the force of a thousand exploding suns.

It was a kiss to end the world.

A kiss to pull a new one from the ashes.

His tongue tangled with mine, and I might as well have been drowning in moonlight. His taste swept through me, and I might as well have been bursting to the surface, sucking in real air for the first time in my life.

All this time I’d loved him more and more every day, but now the bond between us was a tangible thing. As soon as Fate had declared her answer, an invisible tether had hooked into both of our hearts, his dark, pulsing essence flowing into me, feeding me the strength to get up and get out even when my entire body had wavered on the verge of collapse.

Never again, Coen’s voice twined through my head—not by Mind Manipulating, but through a deeper, more ancient magic. I’m never losing you again, little hurricane.

Our lips moved in perfect tandem, my skin sparking, hands grasping…

“Excuse me.” We both yanked our heads toward the voice to find a giant of a faerie leaning into our space. “Barberro knows how hard it is to stop kissing vigate for the first time—Nara and I lasted about three days and three nights—but we do still have royal head to wiyunichi, yeah?”

I stared at him, blinking myself back to reality and processing that last Sorronian word. Despite the grim circumstances, the smallest of insane laughs budded in my throat when I realized wiyunichi meant to pop a cork.

“Not the greatest visual, Barberro,” Coen grunted, “but you’re right.”

He didn’t need to pick up his sword. Sensing his thoughts, I had my Object Summoning scoop it up for him and place it back in his grip. He cocked an appreciative brow before lifting his head to the prisoners behind me.

“Do any of you know where Dyonisia Reeve might be hiding?”

I frowned. Like Coen, my Mind Manipulating seemed to be working again, but I couldn’t sense her presence… or Jagaros’s. Even if the majority of her antipower had flickered out, she had to be shielding them both behind the last dregs of it somewhere within the confines of this prison.

The exiled ones stayed silent, glancing uncertainly at each other.

I looked to the others instead, and it hit me just how many faeries and humans Coen had managed to recruit at the sight of all of them spilling in from beyond the prison—all of them poised to keep fighting until this was finished.

There was Nara and Barberro, wearing nothing but weather-worn clothes and raising axes and cutlasses, eyes smudged with sweat and kohl.

There was Kanuk and several of the warriors I’d trained with in the Uninhabitable Zone, armored and strapped with magic-enhanced bows.

There was Sasha and Sylvie, who cast me identical waves. Terrin, terror melting into obvious relief when his gaze found Dazmine alive and well beside me.

There were more Esholian Institute students than I ever thought possible behind them: Wild Whisperers and students I recognized from other sectors. Wilder, who caught my eye and went pale as mine glistened. Mitzi and Norman and Pierson, and…

My heart dropped when I didn’t see Cilia with them.

“Anyone?” Coen repeated, his voice rebounding off the prison walls. “Does anyone know where Dyonisia is?”

“My spiders might.”