Page 129 of The Awakening of Essensia

“Come now,” the voice crooned, “think of the power you could harness.”

The demons halted, as if they were waiting for her answer. She didn’t give them one.

Thunder boomed, closer this time. Several bolts tore through the clouds at once, the light lingering unnaturally long. In that glow, she saw the tower again, and the white-haired man standing atop it. His robes billowed, both arms lifted to the sky.

Galfri.

The air thickened, buzzing like a nest of hornets in her ears. Her hair rose against her scalp, and then—the world cracked apart.

A hundred bolts slammed down in a single breath, each one blinding, each one striking with the force of a god. The ground shook. Heat seared her face and arms. The demons shrieked, the sound clawing inside her skull. They retreated as another strike fell. Bodies disintegrated mid-lunge, scattering to ash.

Through the chaos, her eyes found the tiny figure on the tower. Galfri’s arms were still raised, but his stance was different, unmoored. The next strike hit, and his hands dropped.

For a breath, he just stood there, head turned towards the city. Then he tipped forward, his white robes streaming around him like wings as he fell into the dark.

Vaelira’s fire stuttered in her veins and went out.

37

Bones

Lereaux grinned at Elijah. “There will be no need for that.”

Lightening flashed outside, the crack almost splitting his skull. He winced, one hand gripping the table as his vision went in and out of focus.

“Why not?” Rourke demanded.

Lereaux flicked his wrist. Steel slid free as guards stepped forward, blades raised.

“What is the meaning of this?” Elijah said, his words too quiet. The torches swam in his vision, the light bending as nausea washed over him. He blinked hard, trying to focus, but his vision wouldn’t clear.

Heavy footsteps pounded. There was a grunt and a clash of metal. Rourke bellowed something Elijah couldn’t make out. The sound was cut short. A thud.

When Elijah’s vision finally cleared, Rourke was gone. In his place, stood another man. Elijah couldn’t remember his name at first, but then it came to him. Caedric Lorven, the barracks new Combat Master.

Lereaux was closer now, close enough that Elijah could see the gleam in his eyes. “Not long now,” he muttered, and turned. “Ah, good, you’re here,” he said, striding towards the door.

Erryn entered, posture rigid, her gaze sharp.

“What are you doing here?” Elijah managed.

Her eyes flicked to him, concern flashing and vanishing in an instant.

“I told you I would do it,” Lereaux said brightly. Erryn’s voice rose, but Elijah didn’t catch the words. Lereaux shook his head. “No, not that,” he said. “He’s going to bring her back.”

Erryn moved quickly, grabbing her father’s arm. “What are you talking about?”

“The First Three stole her from us, Erryn. Your mother deserved better. We deserved better, but he will return her to us.” His face broke into a smile as he turned and pointed at Elijah.

Lady Elisande Lereaux had been dead for decades. The man was mad. Elijah shook his head as the whispers slithered into his skull.

He believes. That is all that matters.

Pain lanced behind his eyes. Maybe he was the mad one. “I cannot do what you ask,” he said stiffly.

Lereaux blinked as if surprised he’d spoken. His lips curved. “It is not you that I need, but no matter, she’s almost ready. In the meantime…” He lifted his hands to his chest. Something glinted in the torchlight, deep against a glow of cold light. Deep crimson trickled down his wrist. He began speaking, but Elijah couldn’t make out the words. They were ancient, harsh, and wrong, yet thrumming in Elijah’s bones as if they’d been waiting for him. They were for him. He was sure of it.

Erryn stepped forward, placing herself between her father and her King. Then she drew her sword.