And nothing had, indeed. Even in her absence, when she had erased them from each other’s minds, he never looked at another. Even without the knowledge of her existence, Mal still never wanted another. The blue eyes of others meant nothing. Their gazes were filled with nothing but a desire to be his, as the wearer of the crown. Maeve had looked at him long before he wore a crown. Long before he understood just how powerful he was.
Was.
His body was drained, nearly depleted of his Magic. Shadow had left him but a drop, she said it was grace on her part, but Mal could feel the vow she’d made to Maeve.
She wouldn’t kill him. And so there he lay, within an arm’s length from death, because even as she ran from him, even as she took Maxius and erased his mind, she had still fought to protect him from Shadow.
“Where’s Maxius?” he asked, the question spilling from him at last.
“He’s still under Maeve’s crystalized Dread Magic,” answered Abraxas,
“She’s fighting,” he said at last. “I can feel. . . her desperation.”
“She’s not trying to win,” said Abraxas. “They are trying to seal Shadow again.”
Yes, he remembered now. Maeve’s plan.
She had taken him from Castle Morana. Or rather, Reeve had for her benefit.
“Maeve is going to give you her Dread Magic,” said Abraxas. “As soon as Shadow is sealed.”
Mal stared at the bedding between them. “Why does she persist after everything I have ruined?”
Abraxas cocked his head to one side, forcing Mal to meet his gaze.
“Oh, Mal,” he said, his eyes sparkling, “it took all three of us in control to fuck things up this badly.”
Something familiar to warmth simmered in Mal’s chest, a long-forgotten sensation. He reached his hand forward, the action nearly taking all his energy, and placed it against the barrier that hung around him, wishing for the smallest touch of another. Of his Hand. His oldest friend.
Abraxas’ hand met his, pressed on the other side of the invisible wall of Magic.
“I’m so tired, Abraxas,” he said, the words mumbling out before he could care how weak he sounded.
His arm slid back down to his side.
“I know,” said Abraxas kindly. “But you did so well. You stayed strong, and you didn’t give up. Even when I know you wanted to.”
“Would it be alright if I gave up now? Just for a while?”
Abraxas nodded. “You’re safe now. You can rest, Mal. You can sleep for days if you need to. Let Maeve do her job as your second, as your Dread Viper. Let her handle Shadow. And we will be here when you wake.”
Chapter 54
Shadow had indeed taken back a massive amount of Dread Magic from her army of the undead, but that didn’t stop the tens of thousands that descended upon Aterna, scrambling their way into battle. Shadow was nowhere to be seen as Maeve fought alongside not just Reeve and the Senshi, dismembering and setting fire to the army of undead, but the Bellator and the Elven Army. Antony had gathered more than his pack from Heims, but a great number of wolves to aid them in their battle.
Still, they were outnumbered. Maeve was hesitant, as was Reeve, to unload their power fully, effectively setting fire to their multitude of enemies that swarmed them all across the realm. Hesitant, and rightfully so, because Shadow’s appearance was imminent.
The fleet of Morconis, their slick skin inky black against the starless sky, shrieked as they ascended like shadows of the night onto Crystalmore, their humongous claws breaching and penetrating the protective barriers. Some flew, their torn wings flapping vigorously, across the Senshi and the Dread Magicals who fought the Dreaded Dead, biting and clawing with rabid intent.
The Senshi continued to slice through their countless enemies with blades pumped full of Aterna Magic. The Bellator that made it out of the Dread Lands alive fought alongside them, Magic pouring from their hands in elite training. Maeve caught a glimpse of Larliesl, commanding and leading the less experienced in battle. But as the range of attack spanned across the realm, her sight of him was brief.
A black mass of fur whizzed past her, Antony, jaw wide as he ripped limbs and heads from torsos. She was certain that Antony and Alphard were competing, racing against a bottomless clock and thoroughly high on their bloodshed.
A piercing and sharp sound, followed by guttural snapping noises, sounded out across the sky. Maeve’s eyes whipped to Reeve justas she sent a blast of lightning through a dozen undead. Together, their heads whipped towards the Dark Peaks, where flecks of shimmering starlight soared across the horizon.
Not starlight.
Scales.
