55. Chapter Fifty-Five

Chapter Fifty-Five

L uma never returned. Not that anyone was surprised by that, with the exception perhaps of Arlan, his disappointment unmistakable every time Zylah caught sight of him.

Raif had remained beyond the wards with Rose; Saphi had explained that with a few deceits in place, he almost looked like the Raif they’d once known. Zylah doubted she had ever truly known him, but the deceits were a necessary precaution if he was to accompany them to the surface, a topic that had caused more than one fraught argument between Holt and Arlan.

With help from Holt and a few others, Zylah had ensured the soldiers’ water supply had been topped up with baylock again, Fae and human. There weren’t enough arrenium weapons to go round, though every human possessed one. The rest had been distributed amongst the Fae based on how strong their magic was, and whether it would serve them better in a fight than a weapon that would give them a momentary advantage against the vampires. Many were too proud to admit the flaws in their magic, or that they had very little, forgoing the arrenium in favour of passing it to another soldier instead.

Even Zack had tried to hand over his sword, but when Zylah had protested, it was Nye who convinced him to keep it. Something had taken root between the two of them, something Zylah knew could one day lead to as much sadness as it could happiness for her brother and her friend.

Pairings between humans and Fae are never easy , Holt said in her thoughts as she watched her brother talk with more of the human soldiers. But both of them understand that.

What if there was a way to make him immortal? Most of the army had gathered in the armoury, the largest space they had access to down in the tunnels. Stone pillars broke apart the mostly empty space, but now so many bodies filled it, Zylah could barely see past the shoulders in front of her. She didn’t need to. Even without her threads, she’d have been able to find Holt across a crowded room. She slipped past a Lesser Fae with leathery wings not unlike Asha’s, and another with short horns protruding from her curly hair, seeking out her mate.

Holt’s pause had her holding her breath. The only humans I know to have succeeded are vampires now.

But it is possible? She didn’t try to hide the hope in her tone as two soldiers stepped aside to let Holt pass.

“If there’s a way, we’ll find it,” he said, taking her hand in his and leading her through the fray. With a few of her threads unfurled to check on Raif, every bit of nervous energy from the soldiers surrounding them hummed directly back into Zylah, hitting her square in the chest. Pull back , Holt told her gently.

Who’s watching him now?

Three of Arlan’s.

Then her threads would remain.

Most of the army was an understatement, Zylah realised, as she followed Holt to the far end of the hall. Orblights clung to the walls above them, the hum of hundreds of voices trying to talk quietly like a haunting chant. Nye caught Zylah’s eye; Zack and Arlan were beside her. Zylah eased her hand from Holt’s to stand beside her brother and her friend as the smallest drop of his power poured from him, a silent command unmistakable by Fae and humans alike. Silence fell over the crowd, hundreds of faces turning their way.

But it was Zylah Holt looked at as he began to speak. “I was asked once what my legacy would be.” He studied her face, and she knew he was remembering the moment just as she was. The moment she’d almost died at the hands of an Aster, the panic in his voice when he’d called her name. “And all I could answer for certain was that it would be something of my own making.” Love poured down their bond before he tore his attention away from her face, his gaze skipping over faces in the crowd.

“Down here, you’ve proven that humans and Fae can live together peacefully. Up there, that isn’t possible without our help.” He began to move through the troops, soldiers parting for him. “Not whilst Ranon and his creatures attack anyone who gets in their way. And that’s to say nothing of the challenges we’ll face after.” Of the council they would need to persuade the people of Astaria to vote for rather than blindly accept another monarch.

“But look around you,” Holt went on. “The humans and Fae at your side. We did this.” He waved a hand at a Lesser Fae male with pale green skin standing next to a human woman. “You.” Another human. “All of us, together. So that our loved ones, so that future generations get to live the life you should have had. A life of freedom, where no one has to hide what they are. No one has to live in fear.” He circled back around to stand at Zylah’s side. “You’ve already fought hard to stop the vampires and the thralls; to put an end to the suffering. I can’t promise you’ll come back from this, but I can promise you won’t be forgotten. This is your legacy. The life you’ve been fighting for. Make it count.”

They couldn’t cheer, not unless they wanted to alert every vampire above them of their presence. But soldiers thrust their fists into the air, some clapping each other on the back, others grasping arms in what were likely just as much a goodbye as a good luck.

Every unit had its instructions, soldiers dispersing and filtering out through different exits to make their way to the surface in various areas of the palace district. The scouts seemed confident they had numbers on their side, but Zylah couldn’t bring herself to believe them. She’d unfurled her threads a few times, despite Holt asking her to preserve her magic, just to check what waited for them above ground. Each time the same strange sensation had rippled back to her, a feeling she couldn’t quite place.

She followed Holt through the tunnels, the sword he’d given her strapped at her hip, a dagger in each of her bracers, one in a sheath in her boot. She hadn’t accepted an arrenium weapon, but Holt had made damn sure she had steel everywhere she could fit it. He’d opted for only one sword, the blade strapped to his back until they breached the surface, no need for a shield like many of the soldiers favoured. Zylah hadn’t taken a shield, either. It would only slow her down.

They’d agreed to split up until they entered the palace, to spread the line of communication across as many of the soldiers as possible. Between the two of them, Nye and Daizin, a few soldiers with mental abilities and another mated couple, they hoped to maintain contact across most of the army. Though they all knew things could change quickly once they were above ground.

Holt stopped abruptly, easing her to one side and kissing her fiercely. No goodbyes , he told her, and she could only hum her agreement as she kissed him back. Then they were pulled in separate directions, each moving with their assigned units to the surface.

Just knowing she could feel his presence was enough, whatever fear she’d felt locked away for later. They had their doubts about Raif, but his desire to no longer be a vampire seemed sincere, and they intended to use that to their advantage. If not for that, Zylah would have had no reservations at watching Holt take Raif’s life. Except… She had hesitated for Rose, despite everything the Fae had kept from them.

Zylah walked through the tunnels as part of her brother’s unit, both Fae and humans amongst them. All of them whispered their eagerness to breathe fresh air, to be free of the damp stone and the darkness that pressed in on them. Their anxious murmurs continued as they progressed along their route to the surface, until they reached a sewer grate below a back alley at the edge of the palace district, not too far from the botanical gardens. From the vampires that protected it.

Whatever element of surprise they might have possessed had disappeared with the scout’s betrayal, but as the clash of metal echoed down the tunnels, Zylah finally realised what the strange sensation had been.

They’re cloaked, she told Holt. The vampires and thralls. Just as they had been when Zylah and the others had attempted to rescue prisoners from the palace. There are far more of them than we anticipated.

She cursed under her breath as her threads reached out for the magic, feeling for cracks, for a single piece to unravel, to snag. The cold metal ladder bit into her palms as she climbed each step to the surface, searching for the fissure in the cloaking magic. As Zylah’s head breached street level she found the crack, drawing her sword and heaving at her magic simultaneously as soldiers fought to protect the exit from the sewers, the blood moon tinging everything in a strange crimson hue.

Dozens of thralls fought soldiers in the street, which meant there were vampires hanging back, waiting for their forces to weaken. Vampires that might possess vanquicite weapons, because she’d only nullified what had been in the palace at the time. As the cloaking magic faded, her threads detected vampires farther away, but there wasn’t time to dwell on them just yet.

A thrall lunged for Zylah and she whirled, swinging her blade across the back of its neck as she moved, black blood spraying across her face. She resisted the urge to retch as another came at her, most of its face exposed down to the bone, eyes wide and bulging in lidless sockets. Her blade met with rotting flesh and she sank into the rhythm of moving, evanescing in short bursts to conserve her magic and to catch as many thralls by surprise as she could.

Soldiers and thralls fell as they fought, and though it was more of the latter, more of the creatures kept coming. Zylah was already breathless, sweat slicking her palms; it would only be a matter of time until the soldiers tired. The thought had her swapping her sword for a dagger, opting to forgo the weight to preserve her energy.

Thralls’ screams mixed with soldiers’ cries and the clash of weapons, the dirt beneath their feet already drenched in blood and littered with bodies. At such close proximity, very little magic had been expelled by any of the Fae soldiers in her unit, and she silently cursed how badly they’d all estimated Ranon’s numbers as they moved through the streets, the ruined city in disarray around them.

Zylah spared a thread to find her brother, pride swelling in her chest as he effortlessly took on two thralls before moving on to the next. She might have had the advantage of being Fae, but Zack had been the King’s Blade for years, trained and honed his skill constantly, and that had never been more evident to her than it was now, following the path he cut through the thralls.

The first vampire appeared, a vanquicite blade in hand. Zylah evanesced through the fray to nullify the weapon, a small stab of pain pressing at her temples as she reappeared behind it and drew her sword. The male stood no chance as she pivoted, slamming her blade into his gut and twisting until it pierced the monster’s heart.

Fangs bared, black, empty eyes wide, the vampire hissed out its last breath. But Zylah was already shoving her boot against its knee to yank her sword free, just as another two vampires rounded a building onto the street. She didn’t evanesce to them, only nullified their weapons as three Fae soldiers surrounded them, her heart a beating drum in her chest and her back already damp with sweat.

Part of working together meant being strategic, and that strategy involved the humans focusing on the thralls and the Fae focusing on the vampires, but that could only work if the vampires didn’t possess vanquicite. A group of humans rounded on a vampire, and though they weren’t impacted by the vanquicite weapon it held, Zylah tugged at the blade’s magic regardless, another pulse of pain squeezing against her temples. Should the vampire cut them down, it would only be a Fae it came upon next.

You can’t break all of it. Holt’s thoughts were strained from concentration; there were far more vampires on his side of the palace district.

If every Fae soldier is dead by the time we get to the palace, the humans are as good as dead, too. Another thrall swung at her with nothing but its clawed hands, but Zylah narrowly evaded its grasp and shoved a dagger into its eye. The creature screamed and reached for its face, giving Zylah the opening she needed to take its life.

Holt’s frustration flared at her reply. Raif is still with Nye.

It could still be a trap.

She felt his agreement, ducking just in time to evade a thrall careening into her from its duel with a soldier. Zylah sucked in a breath, refocusing her attention on the vampire still fighting the humans. She evanesced to the monster’s side, slashing her blade across its neck and moving again before watching it fall.

Despite the chaos, the casualties, they were making progress, their unit advancing street by street as they’d planned, the white stone walls of the palace already in sight. With fewer thralls and the streets widening the closer they came to the palace, the Fae became braver about using their magic, the hum of it almost overwhelming Zylah’s threads and urging her to snap them in tight.

Between the evanescing and the vanquicite, there was the ever pressing need to conserve her magic, or her sight would be too greatly impacted. Though she’d taught herself to ignore the shadows in her eyes, without her other sight, she would be at a serious disadvantage, so every time the urge to use more magic tugged at her, she ignored it.

The others are in position , Holt told her as Zack led the soldiers to their way point at the palace walls. Here the units had been instructed to split, to swarm the palace grounds as a second wave of soldiers remained in the streets beyond. Another strange feeling danced over her skin and she cast her gaze to the sky as the red hue from the blood moon intensified.

“Zylah, come on!” her brother half hissed from his place at the foot of a rope ladder, soldiers scrambling up more ladders on either side.

Zylah took Zack’s hand, evanescing them to the other side of the wall and crouching low amongst the bushes with the rest of the soldiers. This part of their plan relied on her threads, and as she let them unspool across the entirety of the palace grounds, magic signatures lit up one by one like fireflies. Cloaked vampires. Hundreds of them, countless vanquicite weapons among them.

They weren’t just outnumbered. They were walking into a slaughter.