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The courtyard was a bloodbath.
And Thea was at the helm.
Wilder fought his way towards her, needing to be at her side amid so much death and destruction. He was assaulted from all directions, barely registering as a blow found its mark. With singular focus, he sliced through one howler after the next, parrying and stepping over the dead, both monster and human alike. Arrows littered the ground, and in the near distance, great plumes of smoke billowed from a blazing watchtower. From the courtyard perimeter, Wren and Farissa were throwing vials of weaponised powders and potions, glass shattering upon the enemy and dousing them with all manner of alchemical horrors.
When he reached Thea, she glanced at him, eyes wild as she swung her blade and beheaded a howler in one fell swoop.
‘We need to find the reapers. We need to end this,’ she shouted, thrusting her sword into the gut of another monster, splitting the creature from navel to nose, showering herself in black blood.
She didn’t so much as flinch.
Back to back, they fought together, bodies of howlers piling up around them as they went. Wilder scanned the courtyard, looking for any sign of the reapers manipulating this whole bloodbath, but there was nothing. Only howlers and wraiths, vine blights and the odd arachne, hitting the midrealms’ forces in brutal waves.
But with Thea at his side, hope began to bloom. Together, they were unstoppable, and they became a beacon for the others. He felt the change in the air, felt it as their unbroken resolve lifted their forces. All around them, the midrealms’ soldiers rallied. Talemir, Anya, Drue and Dratos all moved with a resurgence of energy. They would not rest until the fortress was reclaimed, until the last howler, the last reaper was vanquished, until the wraiths were nothing but forgotten whispers in the wind —
Darkness erupted, threatening to send Wilder and Thea flying across the cobbles. Screams echoed from every direction, and the hope that had bloomed so fleetingly in Wilder’s chest was snuffed out. A barrage of emotions hit him, so hard that he staggered with the force of them, blinking back burning tears.
‘What the fuck…?’ Thea murmured beside him as the shadows receded, just enough to reveal the figure wielding them.
At the heart of all that darkness was Princess Jasira.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
THEA
Thea stared at Princess Jasira, at the shadows pouring from her fingertips, at the wraiths standing guard either side, and at the enormous rheguld reaper looming at her back.
A daughter of darkness.
A strange tingling warmth spread through Thea’s chest, unnatural, uneasy…
And then, she blinked as each piece of the puzzle clicked into place. She understood.
‘Your father isn’t the most powerful empath in history,’ she said. ‘You are.’
Jasira looked pleased. ‘It’s about time someone understood my worth. I always thought it would be you, storm wielder.’
Thea loosed a trembling breath, shadows pulsing everywhere. The battle around them slowed, and then ceased completely as Jasira reached out with black tendrils. The dark power danced around Thea, attempting to coax her magic to the surface.
Thea didn’t take the bait, not yet. For there was only one reaper behind Jasira, and they needed all of them together for lightning to strike in the same place —
‘Don’t you like what I’ve done with the place?’ Jasira asked lightly, her shadows directing Thea’s gaze to the fortress walls.
With a flick of her wrist, the shadows up there receded, and Thea gasped as all around the perimeter, cruel spikes were revealed…
Adorned with the heads of those who worked in the fortress.
Thea could hardly breathe as she recognised the contorted face of Thezmarr’s cook, the head healer, the groundskeeper.
She wanted to look away, to unsee it all: the missing eyes, the tears of blood staining sallow cheeks, the gaping mouths, the torn-out tongues.
From above, a flaming arrow flew for Jasira, but she deflected it with a shadow as though it were some slight inconvenience.
Thea couldn’t believe it, wouldn’t – even as she stared at the faces she’d grown up with. Madden, the stable master, and his apprentice Evander were there, their faces frozen in horror, iron spikes visible through their open mouths.
The strangled noise that escaped Thea was more animal than human as her gaze fell upon two more familiar faces.
‘It wasn’t hard to find out who mattered to you… Osiris was more than willing to question anyone and everyone,’ Jasira said slowly. ‘The Dancing Alchemists dance no more – they don’t have bodies for that.’
