Page 310 of Burn of the Everflame

“What is it exactly you hear?” Doriel asked, shrewdly looking me over.

They handed me back Sorrow’s Edge. The moment my hand closed around it, the whispers struck up again in my mind. The wailing cries of the Kindred’s imprisoned mother replayed in my memories, the depth of her grief unbearable now that I fully understood the horrible choice she’d made.

I shoved Sorrow’s Edge into its sheath. “It’s silent now. I must have heard something else before.” My lie was painfully obvious, even to me. I turned my eyes to the sky. “The sun’s dropping. We need to move faster.” I prodded my horse and left them both behind as I rode ahead, forcing my army to push their already tired horses into a gallop.

My punishing pace put an end to my advisors’ strategizing, as well, and Luther broke off to join me at the head of our procession.

“We should stop for a while,” he yelled over the thunder of hoofbeats.

I shook my head and kept my focus on the trees ahead.

“Your soldiers need a rest,” he insisted.

“No time,” I yelled back.

“We’re not bound by the blood sun, Diem. The battle can wait until tomorrow.”

“The godstone won’t last until tomorrow. I can’t waste that advantage.”

That, he couldn’t argue. Without Teller’s godstone mixture to protect our army’s minds, our chances would go from a coin flip to grim.

“At least let the horses drink,” he said. “If you don’t, we might not get there at all.”

Unfortunately, I couldn’t argue that. My own mare was licking at her gums, her eyes dull and tired. I sighed my grudging agreement and pulled on the reins to slow her back to a trot. With the help of a Faunos soldier and some magic-compelled birds, we found a nearby stream and led our horses to the water. As the others mingled and stretched their legs, I couldn’t help myself from wandering away, pacing nervously through the trees with my eyes on the sun.

Luther’s stare, as always, stayed on me. I wondered if he could sense my growing dread as I thought on Doriel’s words and fixated on all the terrible things they could mean.

Even the Kindred hadn’t fully understood the heartstone’s magic. They’d used it to craft the Forging spell, and conflict had plagued our continent ever since. Was the slow erasure of the mortals and the genocide of the Descended the natural evolution of our history, or was it the heartstone taking its enormous due?

My gaze turned east—toward the Sacred Sea, toward the island, toward the place that had started this all. That same warm, inexplicable feeling sparked inside my ribs and began to tug. It felt as if a hook had caught inside my chest, luring me forward. Without thinking, I began to walk through the trees, the sound of the bubbling stream fading behind me as a quiet, steady rumble took its place.

Movement flickered in the distance. A bright splash of blue rippled through the leaves and the dappled sunlight. We were miles from the coast, too far to see the water even without thousands of trees blocking the view, and yet, it almost looked as if . . .

I picked up speed, ignoring Luther’s voice calling me back. The feeling in my chest grew hotter and brighter, and I started scratching at the phantom shackle on my wrist. There was something in the trees—something that didn’t belong.

I froze as the ripple of blue turned orange. Moments later, I caught scattered hints of pink, then gold. I crept forward again, slower, and bit down on a gasp as a pair of yellow eyes appeared at the tree line.

Luther’s arm flew around my waist and yanked me behind a trunk. “There are people on the Ring Road,” he hissed. “Don’t let them see you.”

I blinked and looked around, realizing that in my daze, I’d walked all the way back to the main thoroughfare.

“This must be who Sorae saw at the border,” Luther said. “We’ll send a scout once they’ve passed. If they’re friendly, we’ll call them back.”

“And if they’re not?” I asked. “Luther, if Ophiucae’s army gets between us and Lumnos . . .”

He turned a grave stare toward the Ring Road. We’d emptied our home realm of nearly everyone who could fight, leaving it critically vulnerable. If Vance realized what we’d done, it would trigger a race to Lumnos—and they would have a head start.

Luther’s fingers twitched, and his magic glittered over us, using an illusion to erase us from sight. His hand found mine, and we crept out from behind the trunk. The curious eyes I’d seen were still there, peering into the woods. We gave them a wide berth as we edged closer to the road.

“Those are Emarion Army uniforms,” I whispered. “Did Ophiucae get to Fortos before we did?”

Though Luther tried to keep the alarm from his features, I felt it in his heart. A victory for Ophiucae in Fortos meant victories in Arboros and Faunos, too, and thousands more soldier-slaves in his ranks. With the Meros Descended not yet here, we’d be wildly outnumbered.

We’d be as good as dead.

We reached the forest’s edge to find a line of soldiers stretching as far north as I could see, all wearing the recognizable multicolored tunics of the Emarion Army. They were moving fast—faster than a group of this size should safely go.

My stomach plummeted as I stepped beyond the trees to peer the other way. A menagerie of animals ran alongside the gravel path, the largest carrying yellow-eyed Faunos Descended on their backs.