Chapter 23

Karys

Dravyn averted his eyes.

I wanted to look away, too, but couldn't.

The blood oozing from the nearest heads still glistened in the moonlight.

"It looks…fresh," I said softly.

"More proof that some have already managed to breach the defenses tonight, as we feared," Dravyn said.

And as a reward they had become a gruesome warning to anyone who might think they could do the same.

Dravyn and I continued without another word. Words would only weigh us down, and we couldn't risk being anchored to this spot.

We vaulted over the blood-soaked spikes, bounced against the narrow top of the wall, and soared down the other side in a flurry of fire and feathers.

I stared straight ahead as we landed, bracing myself for whatever awaited us, refusing to look toward the spikes again.

We were properly inside the sprawling compound of Mindoth's Keep, now. It was almost empty where we landed, most of the soldiers either focused on fortifying the walls at our backs, or else running toward the sounds of explosions and rumblings in the distance—sounds that were becoming more violent and more numerous every moment.

We joined the ones racing toward the explosions.

Soon, we came upon a larger crowd, most of them gathered on the docks along the area's edge, working to unload things from several different vessels and then helping to evacuate the ones manning them. The sea churned restlessly against their efforts—a side effect of the underground rumblings that continued to regularly rock the area.

There were pockets of damage scattered about; cracked ground and shattered windows; broken cargo boxes and spilled goods; a few completely still, cloth-draped heaps—covered bodies, I suspected. The stench of death was nearly buried beneath the tang of sea salt, but it was unmistakable.

And it was growing stronger.

Aside from these things, however, the scene was less horrific than I'd anticipated. A sense of impending catastrophe hovered, yet something seemed to be holding it back—like a rabid, snarling dog held taut on a chain.

"I expected much worse," I admitted to Dravyn, despite the prickling unease shooting down my spine. "More fighting, more elven infiltration. But it seems relatively under control here, doesn't it?"

He didn't answer right away, too busy watching the sea. Another unnaturally high wave was building, rocking the ships perilously about. The soldiers on the docks scrambled backward, abandoning their efforts to finish unloading things.

"These explosions…" Dravyn finally replied, "…they feel more like distractions than anything."

Unease dug its claws more deeply into my heart.

Looking around, I realized how the scene felt unnervingly similar to the attack we'd faced in the middle-heavens weeks ago. We'd fought off group after group of invaders, only to realize—almost too late—that their true, larger target had been the Tower of Ascension.

So what were they truly attempting to destroy tonight?

"I assumed they were here to claim lives and deal a moral blow to the rising recruits," Dravyn said, voicing my own thoughts. "They have the numbers to stage a full-scale attack…why aren't they doing so? Too many of them are hanging back in the shadows for some reason. I don't like it."

"What else would be their end goal in this place, if not a massacre?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. There isn't anything of particular value here, aside from those budding army regiments. There are much larger ports of commerce elsewhere, and more important infrastructure they could target if they truly wanted to make a declaration of war. Why go to the trouble of setting off a bunch of small bombs that are an inconvenience, at worst?"

"Maybe there's a larger one somewhere?"

"Maybe. But they've drawn attention to the weapons now, so they would be jeopardizing their own plans by setting off warning explosions. It just doesn't seem smart. We're missing something."

We moved discreetly through the shadows, watching the growing unrest, trying to make sense of it.

Skirmishes continued to break out. Small explosions rumbled on, the sound echoing in the humid, heavy air like far-off thunder. It added to the other noise that was slowly building to a deafening level all around us—clamoring voices, pounding boots, clanging weapons.

Approaching a fork in the road, we hesitated, debating where to search next.

"We should split up and keep looking for whatever their true target is," I suggested.

Worry rippled through the connection we shared.

I had already latched on to this plan, though; I didn't want leave his side, but each of my heartbeats felt like it might be the last before everything exploded into pandemonium. Time was not on our side, and we could cover more ground apart than together.

"I can find my way back to you through the chaos easily enough," I assured him. "I always do."

Though the feeling of worry didn't ease, he agreed with a reluctant nod. "Be careful."

"When am I not?"

He arched a brow. "You spent yesterday jumping repeatedly from the tallest tower on our palace grounds, didn't you?"

"Yes, but I'm still in one piece," I pointed out.

He returned the smile I gave him, though the amusement didn't reach his eyes; his gaze was elsewhere, distracted as he scanned our surroundings for immediate threats.

"I promise I'll refrain from jumping off buildings," I said, "and I'll see you soon."

He responded with magic rather than words, sending a wave of warmth flooding through me with little more than a deliberate look. I wasn't entirely sure what he'd done—only that my own magic responded to it, and the fire that surged through my veins made me feel briefly invincible.

As we'd done when placing our walls of flames earlier, he went left while I went right. I moved quickly, my cloak drawn even tighter around my head than before.

Invincible or not, I was in a hurry.

I avoided making eye contact or lingering too long in any spot. I noted the numbers of both elves and humans, mapping out where and how they were gathering, trying to discern some sort of pattern. Something that would give me a clue about what points they were converging toward.

After several minutes of observing and searching, my attention snagged on a tall fire roaring in the distance. I drew to a stop as I stared at it, my sensitive nose picking up a nauseating smell. One I'd become far too familiar with over the past months: burning flesh.

The soldiers here wouldn't have incinerated their own so hastily; their customs surrounding death wouldn't have allowed it. But this seemed like precisely the way they would have disposed of any elvish enemy they'd killed.

The thought threatened to turn my stomach even more than the smell. I couldn't bring myself to move closer to the bonfire, so I turned around and started to make my way back toward the place I'd left Dravyn.

I could feel him through the chaos, as usual—like an unusually warm breeze in the dead of winter, bolstering my own magic whenever I reached for it. It was usually a powerful yet subtle feeling.

But this time, the gentleness soon became searing, and the faint breeze turned to a howling wind that suggested a wild, unsettling amount of magic use.

Why was he using so much magic?

Who was he fighting?

I broke into a run.

But I didn't find him.

Something else caught my eye first: A large crowd rushing down the street parallel to the one I currently raced along.

Curiosity carried me through a narrow alleyway and closer to this crowd. Before I realized what was happening, the group was growing larger, dozens of soldiers filing in from seemingly nowhere and sweeping me along with them. Galithian soldiers. They clearly had a destination in mind, and they were moving as a single unit toward it.

I stood out in this uniformed group; it wasn't long before one of the regiment looked my way. His face scrunched in confusion. Then widened in alarm. He opened his mouth to question me, snatching for my arm as he did.

I side-stepped his reach, averted my eyes, and slowed my pace as inconspicuously as possible.

My would-be questioner was swept out of sight by the surging crowd.

Keeping my face tilted away, I ducked back into the alley I'd passed through and pressed against a building, covertly peering around the edge to see where the crowd would end up.

As I leaned against the cool brick, I thought I heard someone say my name.

It sounded faint, from somewhere far-off to my right. When I chanced a glance in that direction, I saw no one I recognized, nor anyone who seemed to recognize me .

The last members of the marching group were mere dots in the distance. The street became eerily quiet. A shiver of warning crawled through my bones. I shrugged it off and focused on watching, determined not to lose track of that distant group. They seemed to be heading toward a large gray building on the far side of the main docks—a storehouse of some sort, maybe.

As I debated moving in for a closer look, I heard my name again.

I stepped out of the alley once more, drifting toward the sound in a confused sort of daze. I still kept my eyes trained in the direction of the storehouse, but my feet were carrying me towards whoever was calling for me—towards a narrow, rocky road that ran along the sea, and docks that looked old and ill-used.

" Karys !"

This time the voice was loud enough to turn several heads, mine included. I forgot about the soldiers and the storehouse I was watching. I forgot about everything. My name had been so clear this time, and that voice…

I followed it, maneuvering my way around jostling bodies and broken things, finding a wall and scaling it before leaping to the rooftop of the house it surrounded. From this higher vantage point, I could finally see the person who had been calling my name.

It was her.

I hadn't imagined it.

For over five years, I had been desperately wishing I could hear that voice again. And now it had happened. Just like that, my sister had seen me.

Recognized me.

Called out to me.

It felt like a dream. Or maybe the beginning of another one of my countless nightmares. Either way, it was not real. I would have to wake, soon, and face the fact that the sister I loved wasn't truly here at all.

She called my name again—no, screamed it. She was desperate for me to hear it, for me to see her. To answer her.

Desperate for my help , I realized.

Because she was surrounded. Backed into a corner, soldiers converging toward her, swords in hand.

I have to get to her.

I thought of nothing else. Power surged in my veins, a magic waking inside of me that was unlike anything I'd felt since my ascension. Like all of my potential had suddenly unleashed at once, fueled by the sight of her. By five years of needing to see her.

I had yet to manage actual flight, but suddenly I was willing to try again. I was willing to try anything if it meant finally closing the space between my sister and me.

Just give me the strength I need to reach her .

I leapt from the wall. I wasn't thinking of falling. I refused to believe I couldn't reach her now that she was so close. I saw only her. I thought of only her—and maybe that was why my wings worked better than they ever had before.

I soared the span of several buildings and landed directly in front of my sister, my momentum sending me tripping forward into her chest.

She caught me, hands bracing against my arms. Helping me find my footing, just as she'd done over and over again when we were younger.

For a long moment, she couldn't seem to take her eyes off the fading glow of my wings and the bits of fire rippling around me. Then, slowly, she turned her face to mine. Her fingers lifted as she did, tentatively tracing my scarred face. And my sister…

My sister was looking directly into my eyes.

"You're here." Her voice was hushed, like she was afraid of scaring me away. "You're actually here."

I started to reply, but I was distracted by the bodies drawing closer to us. I reached for the short blade at my hip. Fire wrapped around my hand as I took hold of the grip. I was prepared to defend my sister against this entire kingdom and all its armies if need be—

But she put a hand on my arm once more, holding it in a tight grasp, preventing me from even drawing my sword.

An instant later, I realized why: The ones drawing closer weren't the human soldiers I was expecting.

They were elves.

"Don't worry about them," my sister said. "They're here to help."

"...Help?"

No, that didn't make any sense.

I was here to help—I was here to save her .

"Don't worry," she repeated, her grip tightening even further. "You're safe, now, okay?"

The world reeled. I couldn't breathe. A thousand questions swirled in my mind. Savna's hand moved from my arm, digging something from the leather bag at her hip before shooting toward my neck. It happened so quickly I didn't have a chance to ask even the simplest of my questions—

Why?

Something sharp punctured my skin. A burning sensation followed seconds later—not the comforting smolder of my divine fire, but something terribly acidic that tingled its way through my veins, eating away at my insides.

Poison.

My sister poisoned me.

The knowledge plunged through me, sharp and aching, like a dagger through my chest. My legs buckled with the impact, and I collapsed into my sister's waiting arms.