And he let go.
Golden flames blazed down the sword and into Malchior, searing through flesh and shadow and bone.
The tower—what was left of it—filled with light.
Malchior screamed. Then, his voice choked off into silence.
Cedric ripped Ashrender free, and the sorcerer’s body hit the stone. The flames snuffed out, the only remaining presence of them in the smoke that curled from Malchior’s remains.
For several moments, Cedric didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He stumbled back, chest heaving. Light still flickered across his skin, his veins glowing golden, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.
It was over.
It was done.
He was gone.
And nothing remained but a quiet, terrible stillness.
60
FROM THE ASHES
ELYRIA
Elyria’s wingsflared behind her as she soared back toward the tower. It had been ripped open, and she could see nothing but the flare of light and the swirl of darkness battling within. Could feel nothing but thattugin her chest, calling her back to him.
And then, with the brilliance of a hundred suns, the sight so bright that Elyria had to avert her eyes, it was over.
No more sun. No more shadow.
Elyria’s eyes locked with Cedric’s as her feet touched stone again. Stone that was no longer bloodied. No longer littered with the bodies of the cultists Malchior had happily sacrificed.
It was as though Cedric’s power had washed the entire space clean.
The only body that remained was that of the darksorcerer himself. His face was unmarred, his eyes closed, though the scent of charred flesh from beneath his still-smoldering robes had Elyria wrinkling her nose.
She approached Cedric slowly, that ring of gold embedded in his warm brown irises seemed wider—gilded, glinting.
Burning.
He looked shocked. The impact of the final truths revealed, of what Cedric had just done, was still emblazoned on his handsome face. The longer they stared at one another, the closer she got, the more his expression softened, relief peeking through the haze of devastation.
Cedric turned as Elyria came up beside him, Ashrender dropping from his grip. Her hand was there to replace it, lithe fingers wrapping around his as she drew him across the room, farther from the body. Making it so Cedric would no longer have to look at the man who had cost him everything.
“It’s done,” she said quietly, her voice piercing through the silence. Vaguely, she could hear distant shouts of alarm, could hear footsteps racing up the tower stairs.
The fingers of her other hand went to Cedric’s pocket, searching until she found it—until shefeltit. She pulled out the locket, hanging heavy on its golden chain, and placed it in his palm, unlinking their hands.
His fingers closed around it, his eyes wide, a soft kind of surprise banishing whatever guilt or shock might have remained. Perhaps it was because he, too, felt the power emanating from it. Or maybe it was simply due to him finally reuniting with this piece of his mother—this part of his heritage.
Something that had belonged to him all along.
“You’re all right?” he asked.
She nodded, and Cedric released a long, slow breath. Then his other palm was on her cheek, his fingers twisting a loose piece of her hair. She leaned into his hand for a few moments before peeling back, taking in the slight furrow of his brow, the part of his lips.
“Did we actually do it?” he said, fathomless wonder behind the words. “Did we...stop him?”
