Page 277 of The Edge of Darkness

In the midst of a muddy war camp that smelled of charred wood, worn leather, and sweat, she was a beacon of everything that was good and right in the world. She was comfort and quiet strength. And out of all the males in this realm, she had chosen to love me.

That thought never ceased to amaze me.

She stole a glance to the north as she chewed on her lip. “Something feels . . . off.”

“It’s The Wastelands. I feel it too—more so this morning. And the Dionachs . . .” I noticed several more turning their heads, as if to check something far off in the distance. Like they were scenting the air, as an animal would. “They seem to be more attuned to whatever is happening out there.”

Maeson came to my side, and together we stood, assessing. “It’s nothing good, that’s for sure.”

“Nothing good ever comes from war.”

I felt her gaze turn to me. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Her hand slid into mine, our fingers intertwining. “Don’t be afraid, Aremis. It will work.”

The warmth of her skin bled into mine as she tightened her grip. I allowed myself a moment to savor the feeling, knowing that any of these moments with her could be my last.

Neither of us truly knew if our plan to release the Aether would work. In theory, it would be as easy as speaking the words and letting go. At least, that’s what it would look like on the outside. But on the inside . . .

I knew better. Knew it would be a hell of a lot harder than spoken words and hopeful wishes. And I knew there was a very real possibility that I wouldn’t walk away from it.

But none of those thoughts left my tongue.

I squeezed her hand back. “I know.”

A short blast of a horn sounded, alerting everyone to Niall and Auren’s arrival.

“About time,” Maeson muttered, tugging me behind her as she made her way to the Dionach’s command quarters.

Like the main command post in the heart of the war camp, the large tent flew the black and gold banner of Calledan above its valance. Only now, the wind had died out completely, and the sigil remained concealed within the lifeless swath of fabric.

Dozens of Dionachs made their way to the tent, each of them the chosen of their squadron who would attend the meeting and then relay the information back to the others. Two Calledanian guards held the flaps of the tent open as Maeson and I filed in amongst the winged beings.

The group that stood in the center of the room was not entirely who I expected. Amongst them was Breck, and another Dionach I wasn’t familiar with.

When had Breck returned?

I searched the room for Remic, but he was nowhere to be found.

“Something’s happened,” I whispered to Maeson.

I tapped into the Aether. Find Remic, I instructed it.

My focus split between two realities. One half remained with my physical body as I approached Niall, the other twined along the pathways between the warrior’s tents, hunting for Remic’s familiar presence. The sound of quiet discussion throughout the tent filled my ears, while the clamor of hammers and chisels, and blades sliding against whetstone, echoed in the background as my Aura sifted through the camp.

I gave Niall a nod, and he hesitated a moment before returning it. He knew my mind was split between here and wherever the Aether was.

He always knew.

More winged bodies filled the space, until there was hardly any room to move. Auren sent a beam of light into the air, where it formed into a large orb and pulsed brightly, calling everyone to attention. When the voices quieted, and all focus had turned to her, Niall spoke.

“Thank you all for coming. Not just for this meeting, but for answering the call and offering your protection and your skill sets. This war is not one that any of us wish to partake in, but it is necessary for this world’s survival. The fate of every soul on this earth rests in our hands. This war will be the last. Our enemy must be defeated. I’ve summoned you all here today to tell you just how we plan on doing that.”

Dirt, blades, trees, ale . . . I breathed in all the smells as I ventured deeper into the mountain pass.

Whispers, a few laughs, boots crunching against stone . . . I listened for mentions of Remic’s name amidst the jumble of sounds.