Leona let out a scream of frustration and bellowed Belien’s name, calling for help. But a cursory look to the other side of the cavern showed Elyria that he had more than his hands full.
Belien’s rapier danced through the air as Cyren dodged and parried, his movements a windy blur. From the side, Kit was throwing blockades of ice up between them, attempting to slow Belien down, to keep Cyren obscured from sight.
Face me and fight fair, you winged bitch!
Elyria froze, her eyes shooting to Leona, still pinned in place, lips pressed tightly together. But Elyria could have sworn she heard her speak.
Realization nearly knocked her over. Shehadheard Leona. She’d heard her the same way she’d heard Brandon Cormac in his final moments back in Castle Lumin.
With sudden clarity, Elyria recalled the moments of seemingly silent communication she’d observed between Leona and Belien. The insufferableknowingnessshe exuded.
Leona was a mindwielder. She was a fuckingsage.
And with what must have been the last dregs of her mana, she unleashed herself on Elyria.
Static filled Elyria’s mind. It blurred her vision, crept into her ears. She couldn’t think, couldn’t hear anything but white, hot noise. The cries of a hundred dying soldiers, the squelching sound of weapons tearing through flesh, the coppery tang of blood, the stench of death. Every life she’d taken as the Revenant, every wound she’d inflicted, every cry of pain and scream of fear.
It overwhelmed her. Warmth trickled from her nose. She stumbled. Nearly lost her grip on the shadows shackling Leona.
But she didn’t.
Elyria held firm, pushing back and focusing her thoughts on cinching those wisps of shadow tighter. A pained whimper slipped from Leona and the static in Elyria’s mind cleared.
With a surge of wild magic, Elyria sent a fracture through the wall behind her, cracking the slab of stone into a hundred pieces, calling each one to her.
Leona pulled on her shadowy restraints, crouching, cowering before the looming barrage—a hail of fractured stone that could easily have crushed her to a pulp.
Elyria held fast, allowing the stone fragments to encircle Leona, twisting around her threateningly. “Stop. Fighting. Us.” Elyria repeated through gritted teeth.
Leona’s breath grew ragged and desperate, and for the first time, Elyria saw something other than fury flicker in her hazel eyes.
She saw fear.
The kind of fear that makes people do crazy things.
Leona screamed—a loud, defiant roar. Hot static filled Elyria’s mind again. Ringing filled her ears. Louder, sharper, more painful than before. It shattered the grasp she had on the shadows that shackled Leona, made the hail of splintered stone fall to the ground.
And it wasn’t just her.
Elyria’s head whipped to the side as she heard Kit’s cry, Belien’s shout, Cyren’s pained bellow. Her bleary eyes sought out the other champions—all three were on the ground, heads clutched in their hands.
Leona was no longer targeting just Elyria. Her psychic magic flooded the entire cavern, bombarding them all.
Elyria fell to her knees, hands pressed against her ears. Leona’s magic pulsed inside her skull, filling the cracks and crevices in her mind, as if it sought to rip her consciousness apart from the inside.
I’ll see you all dead before I let you take it.
Kit let out another high-pitched cry, pain radiating from the sound, and Elyria’s blood began to boil. Leona was going to kill them all.
Elyria couldn’t let that happen. Shewouldn’tlet that happen.
Blood dripping from her nose, she dug deep inside herself. She curled her mind’s eye around a thread of her darkness, coiling it like a spring.
But before she could release it, a massive quake rattled the cavern.
It wasn’t her.
She didn’tthinkit was her.
