Page 61 of The Reckoning of Starlight

Jassyn had no choice but to inhale with everyone else.

The drug burrowed into his lungs.

His knees buckled, thought shearing loose as the vault tipped sideways. White flooded the edges of his vision before everything went dark.

CHAPTER 15

LYKOR

Lykor counted the ranks of wraith beside a forgotten waterfall in Alari, mist clinging to their wings. Vesryn moved among them, issuing final orders as he opened portals to every district in the capital.

They cloaked in shadows and vanished, each rift devouring the twilight around it. One by one. Squad by squad. The rhythm of their departure counted down his own.

They stepped through knowing the cost. No victory waited on the other side, only a kingdom to gut.

Burn the estates. Strip the parasitic elite of Essence and leave the capital choking on its own blood.

Some of his warriors had carried this vengeance for decades. Others had been born into the wreckage, raised in a world that called them monsters. Either way, every one of them brought a debt into Kyansari.

Lykor had his own.

Jassyn.

Fenn.

Kal.

Lykor’s fists curled at his sides, talons and nails cutting into palms.

Koln looked back before vanishing through a portal, flashing fangs with a nod.

Kal would’ve hated everything about this—too many risks, too many lives thrown into streets that belonged to the enemy. He would’ve argued until his voice went hoarse, and he wouldn’t have been wrong.

But he wasn’t here. And neither was Aesar.

Frost sealed over the hollow in Lykor’s ribs. He reached inward again, searching.

Aesar lingered deep in their shared mindspace, drowned in grief. A century sharing a skull, and Lykor had never felt this alone.

Cinderax and Kaedryn had opposed the assault openly, pushing to hunt Veyrix instead. They could chase the Zephyrfang. Lykor would tear Kyansari apart just for a whisper of Jassyn. Besides, Vesryn had sent the rangers north with the druids to sweep the Aetherveil.

The last of the wraith vanished until only he and the prince remained beside the waterfall’s thunder.

They’d prowl together through the palace as the city burned. Tear Elashor out by the throat. Find the ledgers if the general had fled. Retreat if Galaeryn showed himself.

One moment too long in the king’s city, and the raid became a culling. Still, if the wraith ripped talents from even a fraction of the pure-bloods, the plundered Essence might buy them another day against the king’s insurmountable human army.

Vesryn shoved his shoulder. “Are you ready?”

Lykor knocked his hand away but nodded.

The prince tore open a portal, and they stepped through.

Darkness hit first, the weight of a kingdom bearing down. Vesryn ignited spheres of illumination. Light seared across Lykor’s vision, and he scowled until his sight adjusted.

“Kyansari’s dungeons,” the prince said, answering the question Lykor hadn’t bothered to ask. “Under the palace.”

Lykor grunted and fell into step beside him. Their boots struck stone, each impact hurled back by the narrow walls. Doors carved from solid rock lined either side. Stale air crowded his lungs like it had in the mountain prisons. He crushed the memory before it could sink its teeth in.