But Daed lifts a hand, his voice low but certain. “The battle is won,” he says. “What comes next, Amara and I must do alone.”
I lace my fingers through his and nod in agreement. Then I take Zyphoro’s dagger from her belt, draw it across my palm, and let my blood spill into the air. Each drop burns like molten emerald, and when they fall, the air shatters, splitting open in a shimmering rift. Through the veil, I glimpse the Grove.
“Go,” I tell them. “We will follow soon.”
“Are you sure?” Solena asks, worry shadowing her face. “You do not know what still lurks within.”
I glance at Daed, my heart steady, a small smile finding its way to my lips. “There is nothing left in this world that can stand against us.”
Solena exhales, nods once, then takes Orios’ arm. Together they step through the rift. Reon follows with a wry grin and a bow of his copper head, then Ronin with a quiet nod.
Zyphoro lingers. She approaches Daed, holding his moonstone necklace between her fingers, but instead of returning it, she unclasps her own. With deft hands, she braids thetwo leather cords together before dropping the newly woven strand into Daed’s waiting palm.
“Give that to my niece,” Zyphoro says, her voice trembling just slightly. “Tell her it belonged to her grandmother. Queen Veloria.”
Daed shivers. For a heartbeat, brother and sister mirror each other perfectly. The same storm flickering in their eyes, the same weight of legacy in their bones.
“As you wish, sister,” he replies.
She steps to me then, presses a kiss to my cheek, her breath soft against my ear.
“Thank you, Amara,” she whispers. “For saving my brother and for saving me from my oath to kill him.”
Before I can answer, she turns, a blur of motion, and twirls into the portal. The veil closes behind her, and the blood on my palm blossoms into a spill of flowers that scatter across the temple stairs.
Then it is only Daed and I, standing before the mouth of the temple. The heart of Gygarth’s kingdom. Darkness still lurks here, yet I feel no fear. Only resolve. Only faith that what waits inside will end with our family whole again.
We step forward. Once. Twice.
The temple looms ahead, columns scorched black where Gygarth fell, idols of bone and stone staring down from the walls. Demons, carved in the forms of beasts, a bat, a serpent, a lion, leer from every alcove.
We move deeper, our footsteps echoing against stone, until a single candle flickers in the distance. A trembling flame in a sea of dark. We follow it. The light grows, revealing a hall with open arches that gape toward the wasteland beyond and in the center of the chamber stands a crib.
My heart seizes, beating so hard I swear it might burst from my chest. Each step toward it feels like walking on a blade, thin and sharp and merciless.
We reach it together.
We peer inside.
Nothing.
Empty.
No… not empty.
I reach into the cradle, fingers brushing the furs within, and come away with a handful of pale ash that runs like dust through my trembling hand.
The sound that leaves me is not human. A scream, a sob, a breaking of the soul. I collapse against the edge of the crib.
“She’s gone,” I choke. “Daed. She’s gone!”
He stands beside me, trembling. His fangs bared, biting down on his lip so hard his mouth drips blood as his chest heaves with breath. Then, with a roar that shakes the pillars, Daed loses control.
Tentacles of smoke and shadow lash from his back, cracking against the walls, splintering the ancient stone as if it were nothing. Columns shatter. Statues crumble. His grief is ruin given form.
Then, whether by fury or fate, one strike hits the cradle and it explodes into shards of bone, scattering Estra’s ashes into the air.
Daed catches me as I fall, pulling me against his chest. He doesn’t weep, but I feel his body quake beneath my hands, the ragged shudder of a warrior who cannot bear to stand and in that moment, I realize it is me holding him up, my hands, my body, keeping him from falling apart entirely.
