Page 244 of The Dawn of the Cursed Queen

My heart pounded in my chest. Death. I had experienced true death.

“Oblivion,” a deep, hollow voice said, and my head whipped toward it.

Only the empty battlefield greeted me.

“What?” My voice didn’t even sound like my own, as if my body was still struggling to heal.

“It should never have happened. What Oblivion does is forbidden and quite bothersome, but at the same time, it does make my job a fraction easier. Fewer souls entering my kingdom, you see?”

My mind reeled. I couldn’t catch my breath, and my vision swam as I tried to bring the old, half-burned woman into focus. Her wrinkled hands were propped on her hips, the apron she wore covered in soot and smoke.

“You brought me back? Who . . . Who are you?”

“I have many names,” she said, her eyes raking over me as if assessing my injuries or lack thereof. “This will do.”

I started to ask what she meant, but her form burst into a bird the color of night and shot into the sky, a caw raking across the sky before disappearing past the tree line.

What the fuck?

I rolled my neck to the side and pushed to my feet, trying to remember everything about that night, and then I remembered Isaiah.

I spun, looking in every direction for scattered armor, a limb, or even dust. There was nothing but me and my own remains here.

I was no fool. Samkiel had ripped the sky apart to get to his . . . wife. His ear-splitting roar had shaken the planet and me to the core. I’d felt it then, how similar he was to our father. I had been a fool. Everything we’d heard of him was true. Samkiel was that powerful, that strong. He was the World Ender. I hadn’t wanted to believe how lucky we had been to survive our previous encounters with him. I could sense the same thunderous power that had flowed through Unir’s veins, but it was combined with Samkiel’s power, and it was devastating. Did he know just how powerful he was?

I shook my head, forcing clarity into my thoughts. I needed to get Isaiah back. If he had not fallen here, that meant Samkiel took him and would try to get every bit of information out of him. Regardless of the fear and apprehension that ate at me, I could not fail the one person who had never failed me.

ONE HUNDRED AND FIVE

XAVIER

One foot in front of the other, the repetition was mindnumbing. Days turned into nights, and nights into days. This was my life now. I stayed in the darkest parts of my mind, watching out of eyes that were no longer my own, existing within a body that was no longer my own.

I had taken so many lives since I had been taken, and I knew I would never forget the screams and the blood. There had been times I wished for death, prayed for it, anything to end the torment. Yet, no matter how bad it got, a flicker of hope sat idly by. It was a spark of life, an ember I protected with all my will. It was the memory of shimmering hair, the color of the sun, the scent of mistwood, the rich fragrance heralding the turn of fall, and a laugh that could heal heartaches and broken bones. He was home, and he was so far away from me now that it felt as if a part of my soul was missing. I would have sworn he was a dream, only I did not dream here. Yes, death would be better.

“The sky, general!” a soldier on my left shouted.

The general in question held up his hand and whispered those damn words that made my body go rigid. I stopped in my tracks as he stepped forward. We stood on the large stone bridge that connected one part of the crumbling castle to another. The sea nipped at the shore, and a few ships floated in the bay.

A soldier pointed up, and a few others removed their helmets. I watched their mouths fall open in shock, and then they all started speaking at once. My body remained relaxed, but still, no matter how much I willed it, I could not look up. It was the only thought I had until everything went to shit.

The air seemed to compress just before a loud boom made the stone bridge shudder. Explosions came from all around me, and in my peripherals, I saw flames and wooden chunks shoot toward the sky. Yells followed as pieces of the ships flew toward us, guards either ducking or placing their helmets back on as the general shouted.

Whatever was attacking us had enough power to make the general who had kept me by his side like a leashed pet tuck tail and run in the other direction.

There was a crack of thunder, and the world turned dark. Rain pelted me even if I could not feel it.

The stone bridge rocked, and the guards I could see turned to look. I knew whatever had landed behind me was bad because they turned and ran. Hot, blinding silver light raced past me, and my heart leaped. I knew that light, knew what it meant, knew how it felt. It was not Nismera, but it was a god.

Samkiel.

If I could breathe, I’d lose my breath. I knew whose power filled the sky. I knew Nismera had killed him. Grief was still my constant companion. I had spent hours in taverns beside Nismera’s guards as they sang of his demise, yet I knew this power. It called to a part of me that those damned words could not touch.

More of that light washed over me, and I basked in it even as the stone bridge rocked. Silver armor skirted past me, not even bothering to stop as they sprinted after the retreating guards. I watched with cold malice as one reached that damn general. He fought and then bled when an ablaze weapon gutted him. He fell to his knees and glared up at the god standing over him, clutching the ropes of his intestines. There was a blur and the familiar hiss of an ablaze sword cutting the air. His head rolled over the ground. Freedom! My mind reeled. But freedom was not guaranteed.

As soon as the battle started, it ended. The stone bridge stopped vibrating ominously, but smoke obscured the world. It whipped and curled, blanketing me. Fear sank its claws in deep. Had Dianna come? Had she set the world ablaze once more as she had on Yejedin?

I heard steel boots draw close, and I started to pace within the dark confines of my mind. A lithe, feminine form suddenly crashed to a stop in front of me, her body covered head to toe in silver armor. No, this wasn’t Dianna. Dianna did not wear our crest or armor, but then again, she was a weapon and did not need it. Other figures appeared at the woman’s side, all wearing the same silver steel. Two men towered over the women directly in front of me, but I saw the crowd growing behind them.

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