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Like a statue, I stare at my father as he grieves, the shattered pieces of my heart unable to grieve with him. Unable to even feel guilt for failing to do so.
Dawn pierces the darkness, bringing with it a new day. Golden rays blaze through the sky, igniting the clouds. It’s as if the Heavens are enraged by the horrors wrought upon us last night.
Footsteps sound from down the street. My father slowly raises his head as they approach. My neck is too stiff to move, so I turn my eyes in their direction.
Archmage Branvir Calton marches toward us. A dozen magi follow him.
Branvir comes to a stop before my father. Shock flashes across his face as he notices my mother’s body.
No one says anything. Not my father, not Branvir, not any of the magi with him. A morning breeze sweeps over us. It brushes through my hair, sullied and knotted by last night’s chaos.
Archmage Calton finally breaks the silence. “Grandmage,” he says, dipping his head. “We have managed to capture two of the necromancers. They have been secured for questioning.”
“And the others?” My father’s voice is shaky, far from his usual strength.
Branvir hesitates. “We have so far been unable to locate them.”
“Find them,” he growls. “Then incinerate them all.”
Branvir’s gaze turns to me. “And the boy?”
“What boy?” my father demands.
“Heston’s boy. It is reported that he raised the dead alongside the necromancers.”
Arluin.
Fear penetrates the hollowness like a knife. My heart, which was so frozen it barely beat, now pounds furiously in my chest.
My father looks at me. “Is this true?”
I say nothing, lacking the strength to lie. But I refuse to condemn Arluin with my words. There must be something in my gaze that gives me away, since my father’s face turns to stone.
“Kill him too,” he grinds out. “Kill every last one of them.”
Branvir’s eyes return to me. I meet his stare. Our icy gazes lock together.
I must find Arluin before he does. Whether he is dead or alive, I do not know, but I will not let anyone harm him.
He saved me. And yet they would execute him for it.
Branvir’s nostrils flare. I know he can see it in my expression, what I intend to do. My father must see it too. He sits upright, horror filling his magenta eyes. Horror that I would seek to save the son of his enemy.
I grit my teeth and pull aether into my grasp. It flickers like purple flames, fueled by my frenzied heart.
“Reyna!” my father shouts, his voice thick with worry. Worry for me or for what I will do, I don’t know. Nor do I have time to contemplate it.
I must find the boy I love. The boy I have sworn to marry, no matter what.
“Laxus!”I cry.
And before any of them can stop me, I fade into aether.
Blood pounds in my ears like relentless drums of war. But the war upon Nolderan is over. Now only a few undead remain, and magi blast them into smoke and ash with conjured flames.
A sea of bodies stretches before me. They are of varying states of decay and mutilation. A thousand dead faces stare at me.
Everything spins.
