Chapter Forty-One WITCHING MOON

Chapter Forty-One

WITCHING MOON

Week Three, Day One

Year 3000

Zanya had been born for this battle.

No holding back, no hiding. She danced through armed men as if this were a ballroom and she the most coveted heiress they'd ever seen. A gentle knife across one throat. A sword through the gut. Bow to slice a hamstring, spin to take off a head. She floated through the carnage, barely even missing the power that would have come from her shadows. If there had been gods from the Betrayer's court out here, they had fled when he vanished. Only mortals faced her blade.

But for every one she cut down, a dozen crushed in to take their place.

And Zanya's energy might feel endless, but those who had suffered under the Dreamweaver's magic were beginning to falter. Ulric had already melted back to his human form. Elevia bore a dozen wounds that weren't healing as they should have. Inga, always pale, looked like a ghost as she hunched over Ambrial, trying to save her savaged leg. The rest of the Raven Guard protected her with exhausted fury, but they were bleeding, too.

If Zanya summoned more Terrors, could she control them? Would they recognize friend or foe on a battleground this messy? There would be no second chances out here, not with the High Court's power fading.

But if she didn't do something soon, they would die either way.

"Einar!" Zanya dispatched her current enemy by depriving him of his sword arm along with his sword. "Cover me!"

The Kraken whirled, indicating his consent with a grunt as he spun his trident around over his head. When he slammed the staff down, the ground shuddered, spiderweb cracks flowing out as stone buckled and tossed Zanya's opponents to the ground. He was on them before she'd fully turned, the deadly weapon skewering anyone who dared rise.

Inga knelt in the middle of the protected space, still working on Ambrial. Zanya dropped next to her. "I'm going to try to summon Terrors."

It was a sign of the Witch's exhaustion that she didn't even flinch. "If you think it best."

Zanya pressed her hands against the bloody stone, her fingers splayed wide, and sank her power down. Webs snagged at it, just like before, glittering little traps made of corrupted bits of the Dream that stubbornly lingered after their creator's death. It took so much power to sink past them, to flood into the earth and spread out, searching for nightmares ...

Instead, she found dreams.

The Dream.

Light.

It surged from somewhere beneath them, a wave sweeping away everything before it. The razor-sharp webs snapped under the force of it, their power consumed by the brilliance that spiraled up, carrying Zanya with it. Brightness that fierce should have shredded her shadows to ribbons, but they twined together like lovers, the caress so familiar, so beloved —

"Sachi."

Her numb lips formed the name. The warning. Inga jerked up, as if she sensed something, but there was no time to prepare her for the glory to come. Zanya lifted her hands and tilted her head back, a cry of relief bubbling up from deep inside her as the joyous light carried her back to her body.

Then it exploded from the earth, an incandescent pillar of light as wide as the battlefield. It washed away the world in its brightness, and Zanya's wild cry was abruptly the only sound to be heard.

No clash of swords. No grunts of pain. Even the Dragon fell silent as that pure sunlight glow swept over the assembled soldiers, sparkling like diamonds.

Then it faded, and the soldiers began to drop.

It happened slowly at first. One fell to his knees and clutched his head. A second stumbled and slumped to the ground. Then two more. Four. Ten. A dozen.

They went down in near silence, a sea of gasps followed by the soft sound of falling bodies sweeping outward in an ever-speeding wave. Zanya scrambled to the first one and saw dark-brown eyes open wide, staring skyward. Her fingers at his throat found a pulse. Thready, too fast, but there.

Elevia caught Aleksi by the arm before he could drive his blade down into a prone body. But before she could speak, a flame erupted a few paces in front of them. Fire curled skyward, all shades of blue and teal and green, and then Nyx stood there, their face ecstatic.

"Sachielle broke the Builder's chains," they said in a reverent voice. In the eerie silence, the words carried across the battlefield. "The people dream again."

Zanya's gaze swept over the thousands of fallen soldiers. Was this the response to Sachi shattering whatever magic held them? Was it happening to every citizen of the Empire? Her mind could barely grasp the implications. Millions of people dropping where they stood without warning ...

A roar above them drew Zanya's attention skyward. Ash still circled warily, his angry rumbles vibrating the ground deep beneath them. His large head flew up suddenly, as if scenting the breeze. A moment later, the wind slid across Zanya's face, tugging teasingly at her hair and bringing with it the scent of Witchwood roses.

"Sachi," she whispered.

"She comes!" Nyx shouted.

A dozen paces away, Sachi appeared, glowing like a newborn star.

In the moment before the light overwhelmed her, Zanya realized the Betrayer had appeared, too, in a weeping huddle at Sachi's feet. But the light overpowered him. Transcended him. Sachi stood at its heart, glittering like diamonds, her usual glow magnified ten thousand times.

Was this how Zanya had looked to Ash in that moment when she had returned from her own private war, bloody but awake ? A newborn god fresh from victory? Sachi had no blood on her hands, but her enemy still knelt, vanquished, at her feet.

And her power shone, incandescent. The Everlasting Dream, finally free of the chains that had bound it.

Nyx took a single step toward her, then fell to their knees. Inga followed. Ulric, Elevia, Aleksi, Naia, the Raven Guard ... Even the Kraken bent his knee and his head in reverence to the elemental force that had granted them all life and power and eventual godhood.

Maybe Zanya should have knelt, too, or at least held back. But she couldn't. Ignoring the kneeling gods and the brilliant glow and the weeping emperor at Sachi's feet, she sprinted across the empty space between them and swept Sachi up into a hug that lifted her from the ground.

"Zanya." It was all Sachi had time to say before Zanya's mouth descended on hers. She kissed Sachi as if they'd been separated a thousand years instead of a handful of days, pouring the loss and the love and her gratitude and her pride into it, and when Sachi's arms closed around her in return, her hands gripped Zanya's arms tight enough to bruise.

A god's strength. Sachi didn't understand it yet. But she would, because there would be time to figure it out.

There would be time for everything .

Reluctantly, Zanya pulled back and pushed a lock of Sachi's hair from her forehead. "You did it."

Sachi just shook her head and beamed up at Zanya. "I missed you."

" We missed you." She started to set Sachi down and realized the Betrayer was still kneeling there, his face hidden in his hands, his shoulders shaking. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing." Sachi looked down at the Betrayer sadly. "The Dream has deserted him. He used it viciously, and now he pays for his crimes."

Zanya frowned down at the huddled body. Not that there would be much satisfaction in sticking a knife through the back of his neck at this point, but she didn't love the thought of him remaining alive. "Does this mean I'm not allowed to kill him?"

"Zanya."

"Are you telling me he doesn't deserve it?"

Sachi didn't get a chance to answer. A massive body streaked past them, its roar loud enough to shake the foundations of the castle. Or maybe that was the earth, obeying its enraged master. The Dragon crashed to the ground in front of them, oblivious to the dead bodies beneath his feet, and reared back, his wings spread wide, roaring a challenge that blew their hair back.

Flames spiraled high, engulfing the beast. Ash strode out of them, bloody and bruised but alive , his gaze fixed on Sachi.

Three paces from them, he dropped to his knees.

On a blasted battlefield littered with the dead and dying, the Dragon bent his head to the Endless Void and the Everlasting Dream.

Sachi went to him, her tattered gown fluttering behind her. But instead of pulling Ash to his feet, she knelt in front of him, heedless of the blood staining the cracked stone, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

"Sachi—" His voice broke as he buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply.

"It's done," she murmured. "It's over, Ash."

He lifted his head, his gaze finding Zanya for only a moment before skipping to the man huddled at her feet. Flames danced in Ash's eyes as he glared at his ancient enemy. Zanya tensed, half expecting Ash to release Sachi and lunge toward the fallen god, to take his long-craved vengeance and victory.

Instead, Ash turned his attention back to Sachi. "You took his power?"

"No." Sachi shuddered. "No, that he did to himself."

"So be it." Ash rose, drawing Sachi up with him. "If that's—"

He never finished. Sachi's eyes fluttered shut, and she went limp in Ash's arms.

Zanya's heart lurched as shadows erupted around her. And whatever Sachi had done must have shattered the last of the Dreamweaver's barriers, because Zanya burst from the shadows at their side a heartbeat later, pressing a hand to Sachi's cheek.

Ash roared, "Inga!"

The Witch arrived in a swirl of torn skirts. She laid a pale, blood-streaked hand on Sachi's forehead, and power rose in a wave that prickled over them all as Inga's eyes flared pink. "All I sense is exhaustion."

"It would have taken a vast deal of power to break the chains." The Phoenix's face held a mixture of awe and grief. "She'll probably have to sleep for some time. The backlash of what she did ripples through the Dream."

"Will it hurt her?" Zanya demanded.

"No." At least the Phoenix's answer was firm. "But much will change. We'll all learn the true weight of her choice in the days to come. For now ..." They gazed around at the dazed Imperial soldiers. "I suggest we remove ourselves as quickly as we can."

Ash stiffened as he stared at the messy aftermath of the battle, and Zanya could sense the struggle within him—his duty to his people warring with his need to carry Sachi away to safety.

Zanya felt no such conflict. "Elevia?"

"I'll handle it," she assured them, without waiting for the question. Then she laid a comforting hand on Zanya's shoulder. "Take them home."

Home. How odd for that word to suddenly mean something. For years, home had meant stolen moments in Sachi's arms, a fragile, ephemeral place with walls always under threat of being demolished.

But as she wrapped her arms around Ash and Sachi, Zanya longed for the peaceful quiet of Dragon's Keep. For the sharp bite of cool air and the ancient stones that ached of magic, for the fire that danced a little more coyly in the house of its Lord. She wanted nights in front of the hearth with Sachi and beds too vast and soft to imagine and even the quiet, mundane sounds of them breathing next to her. She yearned for the comfort of knowing that Sachi was safe, and that Zanya was no longer the only person determined to keep her that way.

The shadows swept up around them in a joyous, dizzying swirl, and some long-broken part of Zanya's heart healed as her shadows took them home.