Page 304 of The Edge of Darkness

But then, the ground behind me began to tremble.

— ROIRDAN —

Voices rose behind us.

Battle cries broke the silence as forces from every fae territory joined the field. Reserves. They had been ported in by our arsenal of the most skilled and powerful transports.

Transports could port large masses of fae at one time. The job required an overwhelmingly demanding use of power, but those who were capable of such a task were compensated handsomely for it. Nearly as much as me. The ability was invaluable when it came to war. Having the option alone could turn the tides of a battle, and had won plenty of them in the past. Each transport could only perform the act once before they had to recover, and recovery could take days. But our territory’s army boasted the greatest number of transports out of any.

And Niall had just called them in.

Alongside the fierce cries of the fae, a hair-raising chorus of growls echoed in warning. Drastia’s wolves were among the auxiliaries, their giant paws stomping with each step as they neared the front lines to lead the armies in the attack. Their growls quickly turned to sharp barks of warning, rallying the fae around them.

Despite the reserves that were filling in the spaces between our staggered lines, Nivelle’s grip tightened on my arm. “Their army is endless,” she said, staring out at the grim scene that was unfolding across The Wastelands.

The sun was higher now, not quite centered in the sky, but beating down on us nonetheless. I was careful not to let myself linger on the heat and the sweat that was drenching me from head to toe beneath my leathers and armor. If I did, this would all start to feel like a daunting task and not one that I still believed we could get ahead of.

“No,” I countered, “not endless. But if we don’t use everything we have, this is going to get very serious very quickly.”

“As if it’s not serious already?”

She wasn’t completely wrong, but no. It might have looked serious, but we still had Auren, and Niall was still standing. And we had Aremis and the Aether.

Suddenly, I felt Nivelle grow still, sensing something I couldn’t.

Just as I turned to ask if everything was all right, Torin stepped out of thin air before us.

The fae gasped in shock, finally seeing the full form of the goddess who had been whirling through our enemies’ forces. Some staggered back, others froze in place, not sure if they should be lowering into a bow like the Dionachs and the witches were.

To my surprise, the goddess ran her eyes over me from head to toe, and lifted what seemed like an impressed brow.

Was she impressed? Was this her way of showing approval?

There was no time to debate the meaning of her perusal, or to flatter myself in the wake of it, because Nivelle seized the moment and stepped up to the goddess with a plea.

“The death-spelled ashes are gone. They were the only way to kill the shadows⁠—”

“I know,” the goddess said, holding up a hand. “And had I known from the start that my sister was the one you were up against, I would have enchanted more than just the ash.” She gave a pointed look at both of us, as if to say, You had plenty of opportunities to tell me.

Neither Nivelle, nor I, responded, and Torin seemed to push past it. She glanced out toward Niall and the battlefield of ash, taking only a moment to consider whatever decision she was about to make. Then, she sank into a crouch and planted all her fingers into the dirt. Her markings pulsed blue, and the ash from the field beyond where we stood began to rise and sift.

A chill walked up my spine as I watched the ashes of thousands churn along the ground as if infested with writhing insects. When the ash began to move toward us, I took a protective step back, grabbing hold of Nivelle.

“It’s all right,” she said. “She’s enchanting it. Spells must have an anchor to the earth.”

The ash drifted in our direction, weaving around everyone’s ankles as it spread through our armies. Some of the fae shifted nervously, eyeing the dust with uncertainty.

A sudden vibration rippled along my weapons, as if a pulse of energy had been imbued into them. I looked out amongst the other soldiers and Dionachs and they seemed to have all felt the same thing. Many were checking their weapons, eyeing their blades with careful inspection.

Torin let out a shuddering breath, and a pulse of power rippled gently through the atmosphere. “It is done.”

“What’s done?” I asked.

“Every weapon has been touched by a death spell,” Torin answered. “Strike true, and the shadows will fall.”

When she stood, I noticed her eyes had dimmed. The spell had cost her something.

Nivelle didn’t hesitate. She stepped away and faced the armies. “Your weapons are spelled! Strike true, and the shadows will fall!” she shouted. “Spread the word! And prepare to fight!”