Chapter 59

Itied the strip of fabric tighter over my nose and mouth to keep out the dust, but all I tasted was dirt. "Don't let them stop," I ordered, squinting over my shoulder at the still-intact wall of magic, waiting for the inevitable.

Moving ten thousand soldiers—most of whom didn't want to listen, especially not to their disgraced former commander—to safety was daunting. Some had remained around their campfires, cursing me for a traitor, swearing allegiance to their dead king.

But most obeyed, steadily marching east in haphazard lines.

I'd found three of my loyal commanders—the ones Crux hadn't executed—who'd ridden ahead to spread the word. We only had an hour, but even putting a mile between these men and whatever magic Anaria conjured up might save some of them.

Raziel and I never told her what happened to the unfortunate Fae caught in that black wave in Caladrius. But now…I couldn't stop looking over my shoulder.

"Keep moving. Don't stop, no matter what happens," I urged the nervous soldiers trudging eastward. Grunts used to following orders. I hoped my orders would keep them alive.

"Where are we heading, General?" one of them finally asked, eyes shifting between me and his friends. "There's nothing out there except the flatlands."

"As far away from the wall as we can get," I told him tersely. Too much information and they'd panic, so I gave them just enough to keep them moving. We'd been marching long enough we'd put two miles between us and the portal.

Enough that when the wave came they might survive the crushing force of it.

We felt the wall collapse before we heard it, a sudden shift in the wind, then a wave of pure power roared overhead, tearing at my hair, dragging away the dust and flattening soldiers and horses alike to the ground. I ripped the fabric away from my face and smelled nothing but spent magic.

Oh gods, Anaria had done it.

Soldiers climbed unsteadily to their feet, looked back, and started running.

Fear burned through me like a brand as they thundered past, boots digging into the dry dirt as they tried to outrun what was coming. I peered at the wall—and couldn't allow myself to imagine what Anaria was enduring.

If she was even still alive.

Because the storm racing toward us over the flatlands…

"Keep your heads down," I shouted hoarsely, motioning for those who were too far away to hear but could see me in the now-clear air. "This isn't over."

I couldn't stop my gasp when the ward rippled in both directions like a torn curtain flapping in the wind, a deep, grinding groan crawling across the flatlands as the ancient wall between the realms ripped wide open.

"Down," I screamed for whomever was still listening. "Do not run. Stay in place."

I threw myself on the ground hard enough to drive the air from my lungs, pulling the cloth back over my mouth.

The next wave of air tasted different, like I'd stepped into an ancient woodland, and…I lifted my face and closed my eyes. I smiled when I caught the faintest hint of jasmine and amber.

Anaria.

That magic was pure, undiluted Anaria.

"Don't run. Keep your heads down," I ordered the soldiers closest to me. "There will be another wave, then this entire place will come alive."

"What is this?" someone moaned pitifully. "The end of the world?"

"No." I shook my head and laced my fingers behind my head as I flattened myself down until I tasted dirt. "The beginning."

A flock of birds raced across the darkening sky, a tangle of different species hurtling toward the shoreline in a desperate race for survival. We didn't have the same luxury.

The thundering wave hit us a minute later, blinding me, crushing me beneath a torrent of sensation—warm, humid air, dark and light magic woven together, and something so ancient I could only huddle down in fear and hope I survived the onslaught.

Battle-hardened soldiers were screaming, praying, some lurching to their feet only to be knocked down, necks snapped.

When the wave had passed, blood trickled from my nose and coated the inside of my mouth, then beneath me the ground heaved. Once. Twice, tossing me onto my back then my side, rolling me around like a child's toy.

Trees burst from the dirt, and I hauled the nearest soldiers away, over to a rocky flat spot where we remained as a great forest rose around us.

Somehow,Raziel found us on that little untouched spot of ground, where it seemed as if the forest had spared us out of simple kindness.

My oldest friend gripped my arms, his mouth working, face coated in sweat and dirt, trails of dried blood crusting his ears and his nose. What little remained of his shirt was in tatters, but beneath those he looked untouched.

"Anaria." I searched his face. "Is she…?" Gods, I couldn't even get the rest of it out.

"She's fine. Exhausted, drained of magic, but fine."

I went to my knees, head hanging, tears burning my eyes, breaths coming fast. "Fuck."

"Where's Tristan?" Raz scrutinized the terrified soldiers, faces coated in a layer of blood and dirt. "We'd hoped…Anaria sent me to find you. She hoped Tristan would be with you."

"I haven't seen him since last night. I thought he was at the Keep?"

Raziel shook his head. "Zeph flew to us the minute the wave passed, him and Simon both. Said Tristan never showed."

We surveyed what stood between us and where the wall had been. Trees shot up from the rumbling ground, a forest expanding all around us, crushing broken wagons and shredded tents beneath the mighty roots.

"He set off the explosion." Raziel fixed his eyes on Blackcastle, little more than a distant smudge through the trees.

"Which means he reached the artillery wagons. They were parked close enough to the front gates he should have gotten to the Keep." Raziel started breathing hard. "He should have been there."

"That was hours ago," I said quietly, mopping blood from my face. Raz pressed his warm palm to my forehead, heat blooming, and the flow stopped.

"Make your way back to the Keep," I told the soldiers. "Tell everyone you meet to head that way. This forest will continue to grow, and you don't want to be caught in here after dark, so get moving."

I watched them turn and disappear through the trees in a daze.

"You're sure Anaria's safe?"

"She's with Tavion at the Keep. Zeph and Cosimo are with them. She's as safe as can be."

"Then let's go find Tristan."

We landed in the wreckage of the main encampment, a snarl of upended wagons, stunned, vacant-eyed soldiers wandering aimlessly, campfires still smoking between groves of freshly sprouted saplings, and a newborn stream flowing directly through what had once been the main barracks.

"There." Raziel pointed to a blackened crater that even the forest seemed to avoid. "Those were the artillery wagons filled with dragonfire. Tristan would have shot his arrow from…" He craned his neck, trying to see through the trees. "From over there."

We picked our way through the wreckage until we finally found what we were searching for.

Raziel stared down at what lay untouched in the blood-splattered dirt. "His bow and quiver. All the arrows are here."

"That's blood." I flipped over the nearest soldier, stripped down to his skivvies. "Knife between the ribs. Neat work. He wouldn't have made a sound."

"So Tristan waited here to make the shot, got ambushed…killed the soldier, took his uniform." Raziel took a deep inhale. "This is Tristan's blood." We both stared back at that charred circle of barren ground. "Fuck. He went and ignited the explosion himself."

This time we searched beneath every wagon and tent, looking for a hint of red hair, of golden skin, of any sign of our friend.

"We should have started searching the minute he didn't show," Raziel snarled as he flipped over a supply wagon, sending firewood spilling everywhere. "We should have known something was fucking wrong."

I didn't say anything, dragging a tent away from a smoking fire, away from…

"Here." The word got tangled in my throat. "He's here." I flipped Tristan onto his back, his face red and blistered from the explosion, the stolen uniform burned away to expose his equally blistered torso.

"Move," Raziel growled. "Let me in there."

"He's not breathing, Raz." My hands hung loosely at my sides as Raziel began feeding magic into Tristan's limp, lifeless form, his body torquing up off the ground then collapsing again.

"Come on, you fucker." Raziel hit him with another blast of power, magic shimmering over him like a blanket before it sank in. "Live. You've got to live."

"Hit him again," I growled. "Fucking give him everything you have, Raz."

This was bullshite.

Fucking bullshite and I was not going to accept that we'd killed the king, restored the magic, yet lost one of our own. And Anaria…

There was no way I could face her and tell her we'd lost Tristan. I couldn't destroy her like that. I rubbed my aching chest, probing at this strange, ephemeral bond that linked us together.

There.

A flicker of golden-red fire lighting the darkness.

"He's still here. I can feel him, Raz, inside the bond or whatever the fuck you want to call this connection of ours. Hit him again."

Raziel's roar echoed all the way to Blackcastle when he sent his magic into Tristan, the ground around us trembling as magic spread out in all directions, and I swore a breeze faintly dusted with jasmine answered.

"It's no good." Raziel panted, staring down at Tristan's burned, ruined face. "Nothing's happening."

"Then try again. Keep trying until it fucking works."

He rocked back on his heels. "I have nothing left." When Raz lifted his hands, not a flicker of power remained. "I'm finished."

I raised my face to the sun and closed my eyes. "Tristan saved us. He made today possible." Bone-chilling fury turned my blood to ice. "None of this would have happened if not for him. We'd be dead, and the magic would still be trapped behind that fucking wall."

Beneath our feet, as if the world itself had been listening, something rose to the surface.

Raz went pale, sweat glistening on his brow as something primordial and ancient rose, touching us each in turn with cold, dry fingers, dragging over our skin and searching for…gods, I didn't know what.

Only that this swell of power was death itself coming for us all.

Tristan's body torqued, arching up violently over and over again, teeth chattering, heels drumming against the black, charred ground. Raz and I pressed our hands on him. Held him down until he went limp.

Until the air loosened and we heard voices once more, until our bones stopped aching from whatever the fuck that was.

Though his chest rose and fell, Tristan's face twisted in excruciating pain.

"We have to get him to the Keep. To Torin, to a healer who can fix him before he wakes up."

I nodded. Chemical burns were hideously painful, and even with his fast Fae healing, he'd scar if we didn't get him help.

"I'm out of fucking magic, so we'll have to walk." We both looked across to the Keep too fucking far away. But in the distance, a lone, skittish horse dodged between the trees, still saddled. "You stay with Tristan. Give me five minutes, I'll be back."