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A column crashes beside me, shattering into fragments. The destruction accelerates, feeding on itself as each failure triggers a cascade of others.
Memories not my own flood my mind with images of the Opal Court in its glory days, when fae of every lineage walked these halls.
The original King sits upon a throne of living crystal, his form a beam of light casting rainbows of warmth over his people.
His grief fills me as the courts divide, as unity fractures into rivalry.
The memories burn away as quickly as they form, consumed by the court’s destruction.
A wall collapses, revealing a corridor beyond where fae forms drift in crystal suspension, still imprisoned. The healers who were stolen by the Dark Sithe.
I could free them, but to what purpose? It’s better for them to fade to dust without seeing their end.
The ground shakes, and I stumble, one knee slamming down hard enough to crack the crystal. Blood wells from the impact, droplets lifting into the air and refracting the light into tiny rainbows.
I clamp my palm over the wound, flesh knitting together with unnatural speed.
Another section of ceiling collapses, crystal raining down in deadly shards. My arm snaps up, magic erupting from my palm to deflect the worst of it. The effort costs me, darkness creeping at the edges of my vision as my strength falters.
The realm contracts around the dying grove, the court all but gone now. Slowly, my flesh gains opacity again as the Opal magic peels out of me, funneling into the ley line. Pain comes with it as nerves regrow, my natural magic repairing the damage caused by the transformation, determined to keep me breathing to the very end.
Through the haze of destruction, a figure stumbles forward, forcing his way through the collapse of reality itself. Silver armor gleams amid swirling debris, a mirror shield deflecting the worst of the chaos.
Thalindor forges a path through impossibility, sheer determination driving him forward. “Amalia Wolf!”
The last of the glow leaves my body, and the crystal fragment in my chest cracks as he reaches me. His arm locks around my waist, and he pulls me beneath the shield’s protection.
“Why are you still here?” The question barely feels like mine, nearly swallowed by the court’s death roar.
“Later.” Thalindor positioned the mirrored shield toward me. “Open the way home, now!”
Hope stirs within me. Maybe I can survive this death, too, and I lift my tattooed hand to the silver surface, opening an escape route. But…
“The healers.” I pull away from Thalindor, crawling through the storm toward the Nyt’Fall fae. “We can’t leave them.”
Thalindor hesitates, tracking the shrinking bubble. “There’s no time.”
“Make time.” I plant my palm on the first of the crystal cocoons, channeling what little remains of my strength into breaking the seal.
It fractures, its occupant spilling forward into my arms.
His eyes flutter open, and he takes in our surroundings. “What—”
“Run.” I push him toward Thalindor, already moving to the next.
Thalindor grabs the man, shoving him through the portal. “Hurry, Amalia Wolf!”
I free three more healers before my knees give out. At the end of the room, the walls begin to turn to dust, crystal cocoons unthreading and taking their prisoners with them.
Thalindor catches and drags me backward, his shield sputtering. “No more. We must go.”
The court convulses in final defiance, the force vibrating through my bones, and the jagged shards in my chest burrow toward the surface, eager to join the ending.
All but one.
The final shard drives deeper, lodging somewhere beneath my heart as the others tear free.
My strength fails, legs folding beneath me. Thalindor catches me to his chest, the chill of his armor biting into my feverish skin. Without hesitation, he lifts me into his arms, cradling me close.
