Still, the mages don’t move. If anything, the fire seems to be feeding their own magick. Judgment lifts his wand higher, and the mages raise their hands, dark indigo light shooting from their palms and up to the heavens.
The air shimmers overhead, and an arc of black lighting splits the sky. It’s terrifying and awesome, as if the very fabric of space is being torn apart.
“Carly’s premonition,” I whisper, momentarily stunned by the sight. “The mages must’ve cast some sort of spell, or maybe it was Judgment, or… oh,fuck.”
“What now?” Kirin asks.
“The Arcana objects. Lala told me that not only could they act as homing beacons for the Magician, but as anchors. She said the Dark Arcana could somehow harness the magick and use it to manifest in physical form here.”
“But they’ve already manifested here,” Doc says. “Judgment and the Black Sun, at least.”
“Here, yes. But this area is all part of that magickal overlap where the realms connect. Technically, we’re not a hundred percent in our realm right now. Ani—rather, the Black Sun—is the only one we know forsuremanifested outside all this. And that’s probably due to Ani’s connection to us.”
Kirin gestures toward the rift in the sky, the hole getting blacker and more ominous by the second. “So this is what, then?”
“This is the doorway for the rest of them,” I say. “And we need to get as far away from it as possible.”
“Yeah, I think we missed that train, Little Bird,” Baz says, and I know in my gut he’s right.
We’re too late.
Overhead, the black hole in the sky opens wider, a storm raging inside of it. It touches down on the earth in a tempest of lightning and fire and wind and hail.
And then, through the chaos, an army emerges.
Scores of witches and mages—deadwitches and mages—shamble forth, their eyes glowing yellow, their skin as pale as mist, their mouths full of blood.
It’s just as I saw in my visions. The Dark Magician’s undead army, forged from the bodies of the witches and mages his minions killed.
They spill onto the earth, the meadow still burning behind them. Some of them get caught up in the blaze, but for every body that burns, another forms from its ashes.
Behind them, the Chariot manifests, her eyes on fire with a single purpose: death to the light.
I look at Kirin, his eyes shining with the same fear I feel in my heart. I know he’s remembering Mom’s prophecy—the one we found the day the Black Sun burned Ani’s home town.
Cities kneel before the flames
Thus begins the deadly game
When hope is lost the Star shall fall
As Death arrives to conquer all
From the ashes, called to rise
With blackened hearts and golden eyes
Souls imprisoned in a tomb
Soldiers marching for our doom
Tears streak down my face. I can’t move—none of us can. We’re paralyzed by the sight. So many witches and mages. So many innocents, stolen and tortured and corrupted. The Dark Magician siphoned my mother’s magick for this—all part of the deal to bring me into the world.
I might as well have forged the army myself.
And now, these brutal undead soldiers are charging straight for us, commanded by their Black Sun, driven forth by the Chariot and her war horses.
“We will end you, Little Star,” she calls out, her voice clear and resonate above the chaos, just as it was the night she tried to manifest near the Fool’s Grave, making the same threat. Her green cape flutters behind her as she drives the feral horses onward, plowing through the undead army. No matter—the fallen rise, again and again, ever eager to resume their brutal march.
