Page 330

She was still more than a head shorter than him, but she rivaled even Hedda in her Greater size. Herself, but different. More dramatic. Her hair multiplied with her, the twining lengths cascading all the way to her ankles. The opalescent flecks in her skin flashed like rainbow fire, alive and swirling, her entire body encased in a prismatic glow. Those eyes he loved so well were no different, white hot and fixed wholly on him.

Lunara reached up with one hand, her frown coming a second later. “No horns, then,” she said, disappointment evident in her husky voice.

Brand chuckled. “You’re glowing like a star in the night sky. And look.” He traced a whorl on her wrist, the molten power jumping at his touch. “This color is unlike any I’ve ever seen, whole galaxies caught up in your very skin. What sort of celestial goddess even needs horns, hmm?”

Luna blushed, if the twinkling across her cheekbones could be called such a thing. “Shall we?”

He glanced at the others to be sure they were still guarding Okthana in her cage. The twins flanked Lyriat, Vann beside them within a vibrating mess of vines. Both Magnus and Fern looked ready to eat their captive alive, and Amun and Amal stood on the far side, their shapes blurred through the oily magic of the enclosure’s walls. They wouldn’t miss so much as a twitch.

Only Araxis was absent, having misted away mid-battle according to Lyriat.

A problem for later.

Brand released a slow breath and turned his back on Okthana for the second time that day, choosing to trust his family.

“Come, little moon. Feel the stone like the Demon you are. Follow me through and find what lurks within it. I’ll do the rest.”

With that, he knelt and pressed his palms to the ground. When Luna’s hand landed on his shoulder—a jarring sensation, to feel the equal touch of his mate as the Greater—his heart swelled and certainty settled into place.

This was going to work.

Brand sent his power out with a roar. But that time, when the buried darkness rose up to stop him, Luna was there.

In his wake, her incandescent light chased the shadows through the bowels of Thodelebor. Ancient wails rumbled up, echoing from every crack and crevice. Some were screams of fear, of defeat, but the rest were something else. Something more. A familiar song, forever etched upon his bones when Luna saved him from the beast.

The realm convulsed at the onslaught of her power. Brand gritted his teeth against the violent tremors and held tighter to the earth, sweat beading on his forehead and sliding down his back. Focused as he was, he barely registered it when Luna’s knees hit the torched grass beside him and her fangs sank into his arm, his mate feeding as she fought.

And fought. And fought.

Through field and furrow. Beneath empty villages and ravaged meadows. Over hill and under tree. All the way to the furthest reaches of the Westrealm’s borders, utterly merciless in her fiery annihilation, until she purged as much of the foul rot from the soil as she was able.

Then, it was his turn.

As the last of those primordial cries died off, Brand called out to Solyrian and heaved.

All the world shook as it leapt to obey his command. From Thodelebor’s Northern Glens to its southernmost edge, a wall of jagged rock shot towards the sky, cutting the Forgotten Lands from the Wolflords’ realm. He called stairs forth at even intervals, and willed a wide path to stretch the entire length atop, for the sentries to patrol and defend should any Forgotten or dreadbeasts attempt the climb.

Okthana’s scream pierced all the way to his marrow when it was done, goosebumps rushing over his skin.

He’d heard that exact sound only once before, on a freshly scarred field in Glynmor. Right after the first dreadbeast they’d ever fought crumpled in on itself and exploded with enough fury to level him, leaving two mutilated corpses behind.

Glynmor, the small village that had called on him to help in the first place. To carve a simple river path so they might better water their fields. To raise a barrier at the chasm drop so they might better protect their children. So innocent a request, never met because they’d already been slaughtered before Brand arrived.

Glynmor, where the nonstop chaos and pain, the trials and tortures, had started.

How fitting, then, that it should be a barrier to end it.

Brand closed his eyes, lifted his face to the sunlight, and released a well of guilt he hadn’t realized he was still holding onto.

His task was complete.

“Open a passage,” Luna said, still half slumped on the ground. “Just large enough for me to fit through, so I can heal them later.”

Brand pinned her with a bemused look as he helped her stand. “As if I’d let you venture into that nightmare alone,” he scoffed. “And it can wait for later when we both go through.”

She glanced behind him, her jaw ticking, and he knew it was Okthana she held with that disdainful glare. Except, a mess of confusion came tumbling down the bond. Disquiet. Questions she wasn’t sure how to ask. And then a quiet ache, a mercy, trickled through that could never be his, but he adored Luna all the more for having herself.

Shite.