restore dominion to a dying throne
through your sacrifice you shall build your own
Ellery also stiffened—she’d heard it, too.
“It has four lines,” Ellery breathed. “This is the last piece.”
After everything Syarthis had done, Domenic couldn’t call it a victory.
An immediate scan of corporeal magic told Domenic that Hanna was still alive, that her pulse was, inexplicably, strong. But still he couldn’t bear to let her go. He’d broken so many promises to her, yet he had a horrible suspicion that when she woke, she would never forgive him for this.
XLELLERY
WINTER
Ellery watched, stricken, as Domenic lowered Hanna gently to the Vault floor. He’d healed the worst of her burns and injuries, but a few remained—Syarthis’s bark had separated from her hand, peeling off strips of skin along with it. But they did not wake her. The mind was a fragile organ; to rouse Hanna so soon after an unbonding might risk irreparable damage.
“Dom, we have to go,” Ellery rasped. “The storm’s only getting worse. I know you feel it, too.”
Domenic rose, his gaze feverishly focused even as he swayed. “I do, but we have the final piece now. And once we fulfill it, we can stop the cataclysm. We still have an hour, maybe two, until the storm goes full—”
“But we have no idea what the first lines of the prophecy even said!” Ellery’s panicked words echoed through the Vault’s deserted aisles. She, too, stood. “Everything could be different—we know Syarthis wanted us to fail, so if it told us to believe in an ancientpeace—”
Domenic grasped her shoulder. “We believe in peace because we know it to be true. Wefeelit. So we’re not gonna let this distract us. We keep moving. The last piece of the prophecy told us to go where Summer and man’s magic were united.”
“Summer? But the piece didn’t…” Ellery swallowed. “What exactly did you hear?”
Shock flickered across his face. “What didyouhear?”
Ellery spoke:
where devastation left the land a grave
revive the past and claim a new future
bring Winter glory on a silver throne
the whispers of the trees will guide you home
Domenic staggered back, knocking into a wand case. The nearest candle flickered wildly, as though disturbed by an invisible gust of wind. “Destiny told us different things.”
He recited his own piece.
With each mismatched word, Ellery’s dread deepened. Frost wafted from her mouth, and Iskarius’s core pulsed in time with her ratcheting heartbeat.
“So we split up,” she managed. “I have to go to the Barren. That must be what destiny wants.”
“And I need to go to the room where the prophecies grow. The room I saw in Syarthis’s memory.”
His throat bobbed, and Ellery braced for him to retract his adamance that they were still meant to save each other. Instead, he sheathed Valmordion and pulled her into his arms. He crushed his lips against her forehead. Ellery buried her head in his shoulder and clutched him tightly, so tightly.
“Go to the Barren,” he told her. “I’ll take Hanna somewhere safe before I finish my own piece. We’ll find each other after. And we’ll calm the storm together.”
Ellery wasn’t sure she believed him, but as she released him and left, she tried to.
She tried.
She tried.
