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NO! my soul screamed into the quiet dome. NO!

Before my trembling fingers could anchor him, before I could pull him back from the threshold, the unforgiving magic of the spear’s execution took hold.

It was Soren’s blood on the gauze, not mine. He knew Mal was coming for me—he knew, and he had sliced his own palm in the medical wing to stain that linen, guaranteeing the weapon would seek him instead. The tracking magic of Vaelthrys recognized him as the target. The gem at the center of the spear flared with a blinding crimson light and the curse detonated inside his chest.

Soren’s flesh began to turn to ash.

Starting from the entry wound at his heart, his body dissolved into a swirling, wisp-like cloud of fine, midnight-black dust. I watched in paralyzed, helpless horror as his hands turned to ash in my grip, as his warm face eroded into floating black embers, as his dark eyes held mine until the very last second.

Within three heartbeats, Soren was gone.

His body crumbled completely, dropping onto the volcanic grit of the sand in a quiet pile of black dust, leaving only the blood-soaked shaft of Vaelthrys protruding from my lower stomach.

A silence dropped over the arena—a dead, suffocating quiet that felt like the absolute end of the world.

The hundreds of High Lords in the spectator tiers were paralyzed, their mouths hanging open. King Fjörn sat on his obsidian throne, his stone features frozen in rare, unadulterated shock.

Then, the silence broke.

A sound tore from my throat—a primal, soul-shattering sob of pure agony that echoed off the high stone vaults of the amphitheater. It was a sound that carried no mortal restraint, no royal dignity, no vanguard discipline. It was the sound of a heart being ripped out of a chest and ground into the sand.

Tears scalded my cheeks, blinding my vision as I looked down at the pile of black ash at my feet.

Soren. My guard. My anchor. My friend.

“TAURIEL!”

A second voice roared from outside the perimeter line—a sound of pure, feral, unhinged madness that shattered the stillness of the courtyard.

I wiped the blood and tears from my eyes, looking toward the eastern edge of the arena.

Standing behind the clear silver glass of the wards was the real Caspian.

The High Captain was out of his mind with rage. He was slamming his bare fists against the impenetrable barrier again and again, the heavy impacts creating loud shockwaves that rattled the stone. His knuckles were torn raw, bleeding crimson across the golden glass, his dark hair whipping wildly around a face contorted into a mask of pure agony.

“LET ME IN!” Caspian roared, his gravelly voice cracking as he threw his shoulder against the ward, his royal blue eyes locked onto the blood pouring from my stomach. “BREAK THE WARDS! LET ME IN! TAURIEL!”

Beside him, Aerynn was frantically trying to hold him back, while Dax stood frozen, his face pale as death, staring at the pile of ash.

The sight of Caspian’s helpless rage, the taste of Soren’s blood on my lips, and the cold, mocking smirk still lingering on Mal’s face ten feet away caused something inside me to snap.

The world didn’t turn dark. It turned white-hot.

A cold, terrifying madness flooded my veins, burning away the lingering fog of the concussion, burning away the pain in my ribs, burning away the weakness in my limbs.

I reached down with both hands, wrapping my raw, blood-slicked fingers around the dark shaft protruding from my lower stomach.

I didn’t flinch. I didn’t hesitate.

With a brutal, guttural roar, I yanked Vaelthrys straight out of my abdomen.

A fresh, violent torrent of crimson blood spouted from the wound, soaking through my sapphire tunic, pooling onto the black sand below. Pain flared hot across my gut, but I ignored it. I shoved my left hand against the puncture wound, applying pressure, while my right hand gripped the spear with an iron-tight hold.

The gem at the center was pulsing wildly, soaked in Soren’s blood, starved for its true target.

I raised my head. My eyes locked onto Mal.

Mal stood ten feet away, his broadsword half-lowered, his eyes widening in sudden, genuine shock as he watched me pull seven feet of celestial steel out of my own flesh and stand upright.