Page 168 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“Perhaps I got really good at hiding it,” Erick replied, sending a blast of wind at Barron. As they entered another frenzy, Raiden snapped the chain connected to Larissa’s collar. Tracing the rune as Agatha had shown him, it popped off. Scooping her up, he retreated from the fight, something in his gut roaring that this was the right thing to do. That the gods would approve.

Erick cried out. A cry of pain. Kora answered, begging Aryn to release her. Raiden’s solid gut feeling roiled as he turned back again.

Barron had Erick by the neck, smiling. With one hand, he reached up, and something snapped. In the haze of ash, a necklace dangled from Barron’s grip, the centre alight with a clear, glowing diamond.

A velesma.

Raiden’s stare whipped to the west, where the volcano raged. Aerion gasped as he met his brother’s wild eyes.

Father.

“Oh, this is too good,” Barron fisted the silver chain. “Zephyr’s power. I can feel it. I would know this anywhere.”

Erick choked, scrambling against Barron’s grip. Zephyr had given his power to Erick? Or had Erick stolen it? Raiden staggered, his grip on his anxiety shattering. It choked him, tethering him into numb fear as his mind raced. Kora surged forward, shoving Aryn back. Raiden couldn’t stop her as she raced past towards Erick.

“Aerion!” Raiden yelled.

His brother’s power flared, a barrier to stop Kora, but she broke through it, her nose bleeding with a war-cry. Nothing was stopping her. Simultaneously glorious and frightening, Raiden stepped towards her, but Larissa moaned in his arms.

“No!” Kora cried.

Barron hooked the velesma around his neck and his eyes warped, the whites turning black, and the pupils turning white.

“You’re too weak to stop me,” Barron spoke to Erick. “Just as you were too weak to save your wife. It was too easy to kill her.”

Kora dove, knocking into Erick, pushing him out of the way of Barron’s killing blow. The dock exploded, wood careening into the sea. Raiden’s breath caught as he rushed Larissa to Aerion. Before he could turn back to Kora, darkness skittered down his spine. Cold and unrelenting. Bile burned the back of Raiden’s throat as a deeper, darker power raised its head. Barron clicked his fingers, and a soldier appeared beside him, wearing no helmet.

He could . . . Barron could spirit things?

The soldier strolled forward, his feet stamping against what remained of the dock. The left side had been blown to pieces, only a short walkway remained between Raiden and his ruhni. His love. She quivered, cradling Erick against her, her eyes widening at this soldier casually walking towards them.

Aryn tripped forward, and Aerion shouted as the archer pushed past Raiden. His golden eyes fluttered, the magic fading in and out. The soldier reached behind him, producing something metallic and sparkling in the muted light, connected to a strange handle.

“Wait, Aryn!”

But he didn’t listen. The soldier’s blonde hair was caked in filth, braided down his neck. Raiden couldn’t tell if his eyes were grey, or if it was the ash cloud, but beneath the swollen right one, a fresh scab lined the entire bottom eye, the whites were red with blood.

Barron clicked his fingers again and another figure appeared before him, shadows unfurling from his body. The Prince of Azaria. Raiden paled at Barron’s magic, how much it had grown, how much he could now do with the power of Haizea’s heir around his neck.

Theron was nearly dead. Whatever remained of him was indiscernible. A heap of flesh, blood and pus. Black patches mottled his dark skin, hanging from his skeletal frame. But those knowing eyes, those powerful, all-seeing eyes, landed on Raiden first.

Theron shook his head once, then twice. A warning. Despite his exterior, his mind was clearly still intact. The Prince of Azaria was stronger than Raiden gave him credit for.

“Sam!” Aryn raced forward. “Sam! It’s me!”

Something was wrong.

Aryn knew this soldier. Raiden bristled. This was the male Kora had to leave behind. The one they all wished to save the most. The one closest to Aryn.

And Barron’s wide, shark smile was terrifying.

“Aryn, fall back!” Raiden ordered.

Aryn ignored him, racing to Sam. He stared down at the archer, never blinking, his square face hard and gaunt. Not a single flicker of life remained behind his eyes. His fingernails were bloody and stained, light bands of flesh circling thick fingers that curled around the object in his hand. He raised his arm slowly, pointing it forward.

Boom.

Everyone froze. Almost like a cannon, a bang had gone off. Raiden flinched, unable to locate the source.