Page 170 of Prince of the Phantom Sky

“Get the body,” Barron quietly ordered Samuel.

Samuel.

He was a ghost. He didn’t recognise any of them, wearing that sickening armour like a second skin. Gaunt and frayed, his eye battered and reeking of gods-knew-what. Kora’s gaze swivelled to Theron, shivering as Barron stepped over him, leaving him behind for death. He was ghastly, worse than before. Those sores covered every inch of skin, pus leaking and mixing with his blood. The black veins on his face protruded, his irises consumed by darkness.

His breath rattled in his chest, wheezing with every wet inhale. Theron was going to die.

Erick groaned, weakened from losing Zephyr’s gift. Had he stolen it? Kora stepped away from him, unable to fathom it. Larissa’s body floated beyond Raiden, unconscious and most probably dead from the way she looked like a kebab.

She had no idea if any of the others were safe, if they were alive. The ash cloud thickened so much she could hardly see the desecrated city. Mistros City had fallen. The volcano would perish Zephyr and the evacuees. She hoped, she prayed, they would survive. That the mountains would protect them.

But Zephyr’s power hung around Barron’s neck. Did the king have any power left? Were the citizens of Galen defenceless and magicless?

Kora’s mind roared. Her essence was drained. They had no hope against Barron, he could kill them all now if he wanted to. His black-on-white eyes were eerie, burning brightly like beams of light. Whatever weapon Samuel wielded was powerful, the might of a cannon contained in his own hands.

And he’d killed Aryn with it.

Her skildaj. Her protector.

Her mended heart splintered, her mind fracturing. Coldness consumed her as her hope faded until it was a speck in the wind. She was so tired. So weak. She had nothing left to give. She couldn’t save them.

They were all going to die.

The shredded hole in her chest became too much, Aryn’s absence crackling into the void, seeping into every pore. She was cold. So cold. His warmth no longer shielded her from the darkness.

I can save them, Kordelia soothed. Whispering from the depths, sweeping across Kora’s mind like a cool blanket against the burning ash cloud.

Let me help, she touched on that fathomless hole in Kora’s core. Tracing its edge, burning it until Kora whimpered. The agony of her broken Tvinnr Fyr tearing her in two. She screamed, pulling on her wet hair as Aryn’s death rolled through her repeatedly. So cold. So dark.

I can avenge him for you. For us.

An offering. Kordelia’s coldness receded, replaced by pure vengeance, singing brightly from the dark.

Kora sank, closing her eyes as she nestled into the familiar comfort of revenge. All at once, she plunged into cool, black water, sinking lower. Sweet, numb relief consumed her, sealing her away, telling her to rest as she succumbed to the dark.

Control was hers. This body moved freely to her will as Kordelia glanced at her master. Her creator. His darkness reflected her own, and as she stepped forward, he stilled, turning round to face her.

“My, my. What have we here?” he practically purred, and Kordelia grinned.

“No! Kora!” Raiden cried. Everyone was crying. How pathetic.

The scene was chaotic. What had Kora gotten herself into? The silly human always ended up in the most dramatic predicaments.

“Fascinating,” Barron reached out, touching her skin gently. It was warm, delightful, and Kordelia leaned into it, relishing the sensation of touch. “You’re mine.”

She paused as Barron’s grip turned rough, gripping her neck. Pain soared, something she hadn’t felt before.

“Absolutely, entirely, mine.”

“I am no one’s,” she responded, her voice dark and levelled. “I am caged no more.”

With a sweep of her arm, darkness slammed into Barron and he laughed, absorbing the magic.

“Yes, give it to me. Show me what you’ve got, pet.”

Kordelia snarled. She hated the name just as much as Kora did, although it was amusing to taunt Kora with it. This pathetic male may have created her, but she would never bow to him. Kordelia pushed him back, noticing Erick sliding down the dock, helping Aerion pick up Aryn’s body.

An uncomfortable feeling flared in her chest. What was this? Grief? Kordelia forced it down, her ire at this human cage propelling her magic at Barron. It took the form of water, but dark, rippling, like shimmering onyx stone. It was Kora’s stolen gift, taken through the leeches lurking beneath her mental cage.