Theyconsumeher.
She ignites in a single ravenous rush, the flames stripping away shape, substance, and identity. It lasts only a second before the storm wind tears through the space where she stood, carrying a fistful of gray ashes off.
And there isnothing elseleft. No body, no charred bones, no blue shimmer of soul rising free.
No trace Riley ever existed at all.
I look down at my hands. My palms glow translucent with heat before flesh knits itself back into place.
Skin.
Nails.
Trembling, human hands.
By the Dark One.
Itransformed. Not into an animal, but a pure, unadulterated flame.
And Ikilledher. I killed a woman with just my touch.
No—not a woman.
A Red Fae. A traitor.
The distinction does nothing to settle the violent churn in my stomach.
I am outside myself.
Do no harm.
The words hit me with nauseating clarity. I chose medicine to save lives. To heal. And I just burned someone alive.
The battle still rages on all sides, but I feel weak and lightheaded, as though I could collapse at any moment.
E clasps my hands and gives them a frantic squeeze. “Max! Max, we have to go! Hold on to me, and I’ll fly us out of here.”
I shake my head, my mouth parched. “We can’t. Not without Nick.”
First light breaks through the trees, bright enough to force tears to my eyes. It distracts everyone on the battlefield as we all turn toward it, hypnotized.
A violent shaft of sunlight punches through the black cloud cover, then another, and another, until the stormy sky fractures into impossible brilliance. Ice crystals suspended in the rain catch the light at just the right angle, splitting it into glowing mock suns suspended on either side of the true dawn. Sundogs—halos of fire and color—hang in the sky, the false suns watching the carnage unfold.
A winged figure descends through one of them, and gasps erupt from the nearby soldiers.
“The Lord of the Tides! Our Lord is here!” one man cries in relief.
The Lord of the Tides drops from the heavens wrapped in such ferocious light, I can barely make out more than the sweep of enormous wings.
My breath catches.
I’ve been tearing out my hair trying to figure out the identity of the winged man in my visions. Could it have been the Lord of the Tides all along?
If my mother was a Tidecaller…she servedhim.
The Red Queen has eyes only for the radiant figure, her forces shifting around her as the Tidecallers surge forward with renewed courage.
My brother stands with his daggers in hand, the Lord of the Tides glowing behind him like some wrathful deity.
