“Come on, pup,” I say, flashing Farron a wink. “Let’s see you in some pretty armor too.”
He blinks. Then smiles.
Farron steps back, examines us all, then lifts his hand to his chest.
He breathes in and glows like a harvest moon.
His armor roars into being, vibrant orange and burnished bronze, carved with Autumn trees and wolves, a flowing mantle of flame curling behind him. His eyes are sparking embers. A circlet of golden leaves adorns his brow, the color bringing out the red in his hair and beard.
“Show-off,” I mutter.
Rosalina’s standing by the crystals, staring at us like we’ve stepped out of a story.
Maybe we have.
But this story’s not over.
Not yet.
Farron and I move in unison. We have to hold Sira back, kill her if we can, give Rosalina enough time to free Queen Aurelia.
My body aches, and my muscles scream in protest. But if this is the end, then I’ll go out in a blaze of glory.
One last fight. I can give my friends one last fight. Sure, it’s not the Sun Colosseum, but I couldn’t ask for better teammates or a fiercer enemy. I mean, a cosmic god and the Queen of the Below?My brothers will greet me with pride.
But what of Delphia? A pang of hurt washes through when I think of my little sister. She never wanted to be high princess. But if we pull this off, then she can be a princess of peace, not one of war.
I flash a glance to Rosalina, so beautiful. My mate. She will lead them well.
Farron and I move as if we’re two parts of one body. Fire and water, strike and counter. He feints high, and I sweep low. My trident flashes in a whirl of teal light while his lance blazes with ambered gold, both of us driving Sira back with unrelenting force. Her smoke forms falter under our rhythm, her shadows too slow to catch us when we’re together. We don’t speak. We don’t need to. Every step, every blow, is instinct. Lovers.Warriors. A storm of Summer and Autumn crashing down on her like the end of a season.
And I know for sure now, once we defeat this psycho bitch, I can go in peace. Because they’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.
My little Autumn leaf has set us both free.
57
Keldarion
I’ve fought beside Ezryn thousands of times, but we’ve neverfought enemies like this before. The baron towers above us, glowing and unnatural. His massive broadsword seems to arc across the entire cavern with each swing.
And beside him fights Caspian.
No. Not Caspian. Not really.
The Prince of Thorns comes at me with wild, brutal precision, green fire streaking off every motion. His blade is swift, his strikes sharper than I’ve ever seen. But his movements are too clean. Too perfect.
He’s not fighting like Cas.
He’s fighting like a puppet.
The baron must be watching me, because a cruel smirk crawls across his too-perfect face. One that’s becoming more material by the second.Come on, Rose.
“Let him go, Winter Prince,” the Baron says. “There is no Caspian. Not anymore.”
I snarl and drive my blade toward his chest. He blocks it with a lazy flick of his monstrous sword.
Caspian lunges past him, slashing straight for my ribs.
