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I let myself forget who I was. Opted, instead, to spend my time wrapped in Ember. And now my people have paid the price for my selfishness.
“Why, yes, how kind of you to notice. My friends here were quite angry. You see, where I was trapped in a hellish reality rotting away, my mind and body fading with each passing day, they were left starving. Their prison a barren wasteland. No water. No food. Just sand and heat.”
The ancients surrounding her glare back at me.
“Let. Ember. Go,” I snarl.
“Oh no, my mate. I will be keeping your new toy. You stole the one thing that mattered to me—my freedom. So I will take the one thing that matters to you. Goodbye, Rafferty. I’ll see you soon.” She winks and disappears, taking Ember with her.
The ancients disappear alongside her, dematerializing to wherever the hell they’re going.
A roar rips from my chest, pain, agony, darkness, the onslaught of emotions suffocating. Ailis. Of all the monsters in this world, the next, and the Veil between, she is the worst. She kills without mercy, sacrifices without feeling, and cares about no one. She is unpredictable and follows no clear plan.
Taranus became who he is out of jealousy.
But Ailis is a monster of her own making. A nightmare plaguing this world. And now she has the one person I would die for.
“Rafferty,” Wally chokes.
I cross the distance between us and sink to my knees beside him. “Where did they take her?”
“You must get to Ember. She must survive.”
“I don’t need you to tell me that.”
“No. Rafferty. Shemustsurvive.” He grips my arm, squeezing. “Or else—” He coughs, blood spilling from his mouth. “Everything will—” His words die as he takes his last breath, face falling slack.
“Or else what?” I demand as I press my hands to his chest and will my energy to heal him. But, as I expected, nothing happens. He is a fae, an ancient fae at that, and my power is useless.
Turning my face toward the sky, I let out a roar I can only hope Ailis hears.
Because when I find her, I am going to do what I should have done after she led my sister to her death. I’m going to fucking kill her.
* * *
The dead outnumber the living.
Covered in ash, dirt, and blood, I make my way through the aisles of the dead. In all my years of war, of fighting, I’ve never seen such carnage. The ancients tore through my camp like a plague, slaughtering anything with a pulse.
Animals, fae—they’re nearly all dead.
My vision wavers, whether due to my own grief or the dark energy still pummeling me, I don’t know. But for a moment, all I can see is red.
Bright red.
Fire.
“What will you have me do with the dead?” One voice cuts through, so I turn toward Bea. She’s still crying, her body splattered with the blood of those she tried to help, eye black from the ancient who very nearly killed her.
Would have if Fin hadn’t gotten to her. My throat constricts, and I close my eyes, sucking in a deep breath. Grief consumes me.
“Place them on the pyre. We shall send them all to rest,” I somehow manage.
After a curt nod, she turns away, and I move through the early evening. Well over a hundred fae dwindled down to practically nothing in a matter of minutes.
Some escaped, of that, I will hold out hope. But as of this moment, only three Rebels are still breathing—including Bea and myself.
The hit we took, it was a hard one, and even as I try to remind myself that this is war, that they knew the risks—it does no good. And this time, they didn’t just take the lives of my friends—they took Ember. Not my wings or my hair. My life. They took my love. My reason for breathing.
