Kost let out a series of sharp curses, then extracted a slender sword from a scabbard at his hip. Knowing they’d likely be forced to face off against Sentinels, all the assassins had corporeal, secondary weapons stashed on their bodies. Joel joined in, slamming his broadsword against the back of one of his former brothers.
“Stop this madness! The real king lives. I’ve seen him,” Joel tried, screaming above the clash of metal. Not a single one of his brethren acknowledged his claim. Instead, the soldier he’d attacked responded by raising his sword above his head, preparing to strike. Joel kicked him in the chest, and the man stumbled toward Lola. Blistering heat cooked him alive, and violent screams pierced the air as he crumpled to the floor.
Calem and Kaori joined in then, lunging from soldier to soldier and sinking monstrous fangs into flesh and armor alike. There was no stopping their attacks, and even if a blade managed to cut open their flesh, they kept moving. Kept fighting.
As I reopened the beast realm door, eager to summon another beast to aid my family, the high arc of a blade catching in the sunlight stole my attention. Kost parried it easily and continued to fight without stopping, but my gaze was locked on those damn windows in the ceiling. The ones depicting the sun crawling toward its highest point.
I jerked my attention back to the exit, still filled to the brim with soldiers. I had to get to Yazmin. But the path we’d taken to get here had no other offshoots or possible paths for avoiding the throne room. I scanned the space, even contemplated launching myself out one of the mosaic windows at the back, when I spotted another corridor across the room.
“Joel!” I shouted, pointing to the exit. “Where does that lead?”
He stuck his blade into the belly of a soldier, then glanced toward the hall. “East tower!”
My mind whirred. If I could make it to the top of the tower, I could summon Onyx and fly over Wilheim in search of Yazmin. I didn’t have time to wait for this battle to end, and as much as it filled me with dread to leave my family alone with this threat, I had to trust that they’d be okay.
Kost ran his blade along the neck of a Sentinel, finding one of the few weak spots in his armor, and brought the man to his knees. The warrior let out a soft gurgle, followed by a blood-filled cough, then slumped to the floor. Kost whipped around before turning his gaze to me.
“Go.”
It was the only prompting I needed. Screaming over my shoulder at Lola, I instructed her to hold her ground until Kost told her otherwise, and she answered with a trembling roar. My feet pounded against the tile as I ran, dodging soldiers’ wayward attacks until I hit the wondrously empty hallway. A spiral staircase waited for me, and I kept running. Glittering platinum wall sconces held unlit torches, the oblong windows lining the walls providing all the light I needed.
My muscles throbbed as I continued to climb higher and higher. But adrenaline pushed me forward. Forced me to ignore the burn in my lungs and shortness of breath. Too long. I was takingtoolong. Panic ate away at my insides until I finally broke out onto the top of the tower. Without a roof to obstruct my view, the entirety of Wilheim was laid before me. The only thing that kept me from tumbling over the side was a series of stone columns and thick railing. I rushed to the edge and prepared to summon Onyx when I saw her.
Yazmin.
She was in the center of the courtyard Noc and I had traveled through on our mission to tame an Azad. Manicured lawns with fresh, budding grass sprawled out in a circular pattern around a tiered fountain. The statue on the highest layer was a kneeling, reverent king. The First King. Noc’s ancestor. And Yazmin stood before him, a chilling smile on her upturned face. A basin full of shiny, red liquid and bones waited by her feet. Noc’s blood and Wynn’s remains. Two of the ingredients needed to summon and tame Ocnolog. Beside her, an Asura sat on the ground, one set of hands firmly on the earth, another pair stretched out to its sides, and the final two arms raised to the heavens. Which meant its invisible, protective barrier was fully intact.
Across the courtyard, a secondary tower loomed against the clear blue sky. And in its rafters hung a stunning, crystalline bell. One whose melodious gong had just started to ring out over the quiet city. Midday.
“NO!” I shrieked, forcing everything I had into my hand and heaving open the beast realm door.
Below in the courtyard, something flashed. A long, silver blade reflecting in the sun. Yazmin held it high in one hand, and then with a definitive swoop, plunged it deep into her own heart. Blood exploded outward and coated the base of the fountain before flowing into the basin. She immediately sank to her knees, smile still pulling at her lips. A glowing orb like a tiny, twinkling gem floated outward from her chest. It hung in the air, waiting for someone—something—to claim it. Onyx came barreling out the beast realm then, manifesting before me and letting out a series of angry caterwauls that competed with the gong of the bell.
But one sound drowned out all others.
One disastrous, horrifying, deafening sound. A bellowing, distant roar that forced my attention away from the traitorous Crown and toward the horizon. To Hireath.
An ominous cloud of black smoke bloomed against the sky, followed by a rumbling that sent tremors through our entire world. As if a mountain itself had crashed in a horrendous landslide.
As if Hireath had fallen.
I don’t know how I knew that. But something deep inside me—a terrible, sickening sense of unbearable truth—fisted my heart and wrenched it tight. Yazmin had successfully awoken the very beast Celeste had given her life to subdue. And maybe that statue in the throne room of Hireath wasn’t just an homage to the great creature of years past. Maybe it was the headstone to an actual tomb.
As the black cloud of smoke deepened and blanketed the horizon, a column of fire erupted straight up to the heavens. And against that fiery orange and burning red stream of color, the figure of a dragon rose into the air.
Ocnolog was here.
Thirty-Six
Noc
The harsh clang of metal screamed through the air as blades smashed against armor. There was no slowing the onslaught of Varek’s army. They had numbers we simply did not. Arrows whizzed overhead, their deadly song ending with a definitive thud as their pointed tips met flesh or muck. Shields cracked. Beasts roared. Charmers, assassins, Rhynelanders, Lendrians—we all fought side by side against the power of the throne. Our battlefield was a sea of blood and carnage, the stink of copper heavy around us. But as valiantly as we fought, it was evident that we were losing.
Felled mounts and bodies marred the terrain, and Varek’s tremendous forces had outmaneuvered us. They encircled us entirely, giving us no option for retreat. And still we fought. Still we raged against the Sentinels, the riders, the infantry. A few times I tried to call out to them, to prove that I was the rightful king, but Varek had ordered them to keep their distance until the battle had begun. And now, as we thrust our blades against one another, the only thing that mattered was survival. Blinding columns of white light detonated around me, decimating my assassins’ ability to summon shadows. But not my blood blades. Deep gashes ran the length of my forearms, and I carried twin swords, unbreakable and devastating.
Still, it wasn’t enough.
“On your left!” someone shouted, and suddenly a near-black war hammer came swinging through the air. The end of it smashed through the skull of a Sentinel I hadn’t noticed in my peripheral, and Dez rushed forward. He gave his weapon a good yank, freeing it from the mangled helm of the downed soldier.
