Chapter 45

Azran

Abrisk wind caresses my head as I descend the palace steps, my short hair offering little protection against the elements.

The High Guard is assembling in the courtyard. The full moon lights the stones in hues of grey, and torches reflect on their gold and red armor.

With Dagrassaeb secure on my back, I pause on the last step and let my gaze travel the faces of the soldiers ready to march to war.

Averion’s captains stand before their units, their back straight as Calen walks among them, his braids tied at the back of his head and his helmet in hand.

I scan the fighters mounted on horses, and determination settles in their clenched jaws as I lock eyes with them. I force myself to carve each face into memory, instilling as much strength as I can in my gaze. My brothers and sisters in arms will march by my side once more, and they won’t all make it back.

Whipping gusts lash the courtyard in invisible torrents, funneled by the surrounding buildings into brisk, biting flurries.

My heart sinks with impending doom on the eve of battle. I’ve long lost count of the many fights I survived, but bloodshed still awaits us all. Before long, a sea of corpses will cover this land we all fought so hard for.

Soldiers’ faces lift in my direction, but it’s not me they’re looking at.

With Ela’s presence looming behind my back, I half-turn towards the top of the stairs, and my breath hitches in my throat.

A hooded silhouette emerges from the palace doors, towering over us with her dark cape flowing around.

As Ela walks down the steps, Death walks with her, and the daughter of darkness is reborn tonight.

Wind swirls in unpredictable currents, rustling over the paving stones before intensifying into angry squalls.

Ela’s cape opens, revealing carved symbols of midnight and alabaster on her armor. Obsidian plates rimmed with ivory scrollwork cover her torso, turning her into a harrowing vision promising only hell.

Death has joined our earthly place at long last, to reap a harvest of mortal souls.

I extend a hand when Ela reaches the bottom steps, and she accepts.

Scanning the darkness beneath her hood, my gaze meets hers as torches reflect in her stormy eyes.

“Ready?” I ask down the bond, and she answers with a nod.

With her hand in mine, I face the warriors as the rhythm of iron-shod hooves on stone rings out, echoing from the high-walled courtyard.

“Tonight we march for Daenia and our eastern shores.”

My voice booms powerfully over the assembled ranks, effortlessly projecting to the farthest edges of the courtyard.

“Tonight we march for freedom, and in defense of our people.”

Snorting breaths blast from flared nostrils as the mounts shift restlessly beneath armor-clad riders.

“Tonight we march towards death or victory.”

Tension ripples through the High Guard as my words fill the air and our mounts are brought forward.

We lead our forces through the arch and into Averion moments later.

The ground trembles beneath thousands of hooves as we’re joined by Irann’s forces on the borders of Averion’s plains.

Across the hilly terrain, our battalions advance like great armored beasts, the sun glinting off iron plate and spears shifting in perfect unity. Squadrons of mud-spattered foot soldiers march in lockstep, their cadence punctuated by the calls of horses.

My power roars inside me, calling for the blood of our enemies and the crumbling of this world under the flames of war. Ela’s presence strengthens my resolve, though I can barely feel her down the bond with her powers obstructing our connection.

We ride tirelessly through the first light of day and don’t relent until we reach Daenia’s shores at the end of the following day.

Calen brings the army to a halt as we lay eyes on the sea channels circling the islands around Daenia. The rivers sparkle like jewels under the sun, now low in the reddening sky.

Saltwater canals divide the Water Fae islands like a glimmering blue net, with narrow bridges connecting the scattered archipelago.

Before long, the barren field transforms into a sprawl of tents and fires as battalions hastily throw up shelters against the fading light.

Calen dispatches scouts to the bridges and throughout the camp to keep watch for enemies as Ela and I walk to the High Lord’s pavilion.

Soldiers trudge between orderly rows of billowing canvas, some clustering together while squires lead lathered warhorses to makeshift paddocks. Veterans sit watchfully around fires, their thousand-yard stares still seeing the remembered dead.

Heads turn as we weave between warriors, and murmurs follow our steps.

Ela’s steps slow when a Wood Fae soldier stands up, his gaze fixed on her. His armor glints under the late afternoon sun.

I draw closer to my mate, ready to step in at the slightest hint of a threat.

“Glory to the Unifier.”

Pride swells in my heart when more soldiers rise to echo their comrade’s call.

“Unifier.”

Several bow their heads as they utter the word like a prayer. Sanctity fills the air and the hair rises on my arms when the procession continues, following us until we reach the pavilion at the center of camp.

Lifting the flaps with one hand, I let Ela go in first.

Removing her hood with a quick tug, Ela unsheathes Nahtar from her back and puts it down with trembling hands.

“Rest while you can.” I point to the bed in a corner. “We don’t know how much time we have before battle.”

“I’m fine.”

Her low voice is barely more than a whisper, so I catch her by the arm.

Meeting my gaze, she reveals her darkened irises. Her lifeless eyes confirm she’s keeping her fears at bay with her power.

“Please.”

Dismissing my request, she makes for the small display of food arranged by camp aids earlier. The flaps of the pavilion lift.

“High Lord,” Irann greets me as she lowers her crowned forehead. “Unifier.”

Ela lowers the cup she just filled, returning a quick nod.

“Irann,” I invite her in as Calen follows, his captains in tow.

They take position around the tent, waiting to give their reports.

“Have we heard from Tharrion yet?” Irann jumps in.

“He’s positioned by Daenia’s southern border, keeping watch on the shores,” I answer.

“Any word from Brimora?” she continues, and I shake my head.

“Nothing yet.”

Eerie silence falls over the tent until Calen steps in.

“Reports.”

The captains come to life.

“The last of the army has reached camp. Horses are being cared for and food distributed as we speak.”

“We’re ready to march on Daenia on your orders, High Lord.”

Nodding in agreement, I lock eyes with Calen.

“We’ll wait for the Captain of the High Guard to return before leaving.”

His shoulder relax almost imperceptibly at Vesta’s mention.

After the last update, the captains trickle out of the pavilion and I cock a brow at Cal, who hasn’t moved.

“What?” A grin forms on his face.

“Get out of here.”

“Right.” His smile widens as his eyes dart between Ela and I, but he leaves.

Extending both arms towards her, Ela sags against me, the invisible bond pulsing between us as she releases her power.

So ends our respite. War awaits and the semblance of safety we tasted in Averion shatters. A crack in my heart forms as reality dawns on me, and fear’s unfamiliar hold takes me, leaving me equally terrified of its intensity and grateful for its presence. This dread only shows how much my life has transformed with the light Ela brought to it.

Her love flares in my chest as she squeezes me tightly, and I know mine for her shines just as bright down the bond. With this simple gesture, resolve joins fear.

Tomorrow I will walk alongside Death, her power entwining with mine, ready to destroy anything in our path.

I pull back to cup her cheek gently.

“I’ve never cared much for divinity, but you made me a believer,” I whisper against her lips. “Let this be the hour when we dance with each other, in war and bloodshed.”

My power flickers at the thought, ready to be unleashed and render me invincible.

“This is merely another path we must take to reach what lies beyond destruction, a life together with you forever.”

We lock eyes, her darkened irises meeting the crimson in mine, and exchange silent vows.

“Let us show the world what Death and her monster can do,” she adds.

She closes the distance and her lips crash against mine. I hold her head as my tongue meets her, eagerly exploring her mouth and setting the bond on fire.

A choked moan tears from her throat as our kiss leaves me breathless.

A hint of warmth flares in my fingers, and I tear myself from her embrace.

I stare down at my open palms, calloused skin streaked with thin scars and weathered from decades of wielding swords. Slowly, I curl my fingers in, pressing down into the lined flesh as heat spreads over my skin and wrists.