AFTERMATH
CEDRIC
Cedric couldn’t move.
Couldn’t blink.
Couldn’t breathe.
How had it all gone so wrong, so fast?
Varyth Malchior was dead.
Wasn’t he?
But something so much worse rose in his stead.
Malakar.
The dark sorcerer resurrected.
And he took her, cleaving Cedric’s heart from his chest at the same time.
“Where is she?” Tenny cried, the tower rumbling as she ran up towhere Kit and Cedric still stood at the edge of the split in the floor. “What happened? Where did they go?”
He had no response, no words. Nox came up behind Tenny, whose fists were beating against Cedric’s armor, blaring in time with the stilted stutter of his heart.
Kit reached for Tenny’s hand just before she reared back and turned that fist to Cedric’s face. “Ric, what the fuck happ?—”
Someone gasped.
Someone else retched.
Cedric didn’t know who did which. He could only identify the wail, guttural and raw, that tore from Kit’s throat as she finally followed his gaze, landing on the spot Cedric had been unable—unwilling—to look away from.
The spot where nothing of Elyria remained, not the fierceness of her soul, nor the spark in her emerald eyes, nor her cherry-almond scent.
Nothing but two severed purple-and-green wings laying on the stone, blood pooling around them.
“Her—her—her—” Kit couldn’t form the words. Couldn’t say it.
Cedric didn’t blame her.
He took herwings.Her beautiful, perfect, ethereal wings.
The expression that had flashed across Elyria’s features in the single moment before she disappeared—the agony of it, themagnitudeof it—played over and over in his mind. More than physical pain, it was something soul deep. He could feel it. Feel her loss. It ached in his chest, a hole of despair.
He could live a thousand lifetimes and he’d never be able to forget it.
“Where did he take her?” Nox’s voice pierced Cedric’s thoughts.
“Howdid he take her?” Tenny asked, face ashen. “You killed him. He was dead.”
“It wasn’t Malchior.” Cedric looked down at his fisted hands, at the sunfyre lighting his veins beneath his skin. The words were emotionless as they left his mouth, shock driving them out. “Or maybe it was, in a way. But it was more like his death triggered some kind of resurrection.” He swallowed, sucking in a painful breath. “Malakar has returned.”
Even more painful was the silence that followed.
“I would say it is impossible,” Nox finally said, their voice solemn, “but we’ve seen enough impossible things that doing so would only waste more time.”
