Page 39 of Three Dark Kings and the Gilded Serpent

She’s freezing, lying across Stellen’s chest, surrounded by snow and blood. Her arm trembles as she reaches for me, my name on her lips, her fading voice calling me, and then, just as quickly, she’s gone.

My true surroundings reappear with a vengeance.

Flames shoot around me. Sharp shards of ice scatter in all directions. A chunk of stone burning so hot that it’s turning into lava, soars past me on my right. Then another chunk of stone, and another, debris on fire as it crashes past me, hitting the sand when I do, every stone half-melted and half-frozen.

Thump-thump-thump…

For a dizzying moment, I lie on my back, blinking up at the sky.

I’m certain I destroyed the scythe. Neutralized it.

Probably.

I can’t seem to lift myself up to check, although there’s no ripple of energy in the sky swinging across the air above me like there would have been if I hadn’t succeeded.

I’m not certain now that I saw Thyra because my head is buzzing and for all I know, I fucking hallucinated her.

Liquid runs down the side of my neck from each of my ears. I can’t hear the roar anymore, but that could be because my eardrums have burst.

Whatever physical damage I’ve suffered, however many bones I’ve broken, I trust my fire to heal me. It’s the only truly good thing about my power.

Already, flames sizzle across my torso and through my right arm, which lies at a weird angle on the sand. Along with my left leg. And…fuck…my ribs, several of which protrude from my side where…fucking fuck…it appears my torso might have caved in.

Probably lucky I wasn’t cut in half.

I want to believe my fire is rushing to heal me right now, but I’ve never felt so cold.

I tell myself to get up. Even if I destroyed the ripple of energy, I don’t think I stopped the avalanche behind it. And I highly doubt I put a dent in the broader snowstorm.

As a snowflake drifts past me, and then another, I take a moment to focus on the sun gleaming in the sky above me, asking myself one of the most important questions of my life…

Is the sun as cold as I am?

Thyra told me not to come for her until the sun turns bitterly cold and the sand bleeds iron.

She told me I must earn what I desire.

Not half an hour ago, the sand bled iron. Crimson oil carrying iron dust ran like rivers across my towers, my sand, and my warriors.

One half of her conditions have been met.

Yet…

The sun continues to burn hot, an orange orb in the midday sky, not even remotely cold despite the frosty air.

Again, I tell myself to get the fuck up.

The avalanche of snow and rock is coming for my people and I have to stop it.

Pushing at the sand, I roar with agony as my fire is slow to heal my broken bones, the icy air no doubt impeding my power now that I’ve expended so much heat already.

I make it halfway up, far enough to see that the avalanche has risen above the towers, a wave pulling higher before it will crash down only a few hundred paces away.

The air is now shatteringly cold, and I fight it with every breath I take, my power keeping me alive.

I hobble forward, only to collapse on my broken leg, my eyes watering and teeth clenching as I concentrate my flames down that damaged limb. Mentally shouting at myself to heal.

Fucking…heal!