Page 130 of Shadow & Storms

Thea’s words got stuck in her throat, and tears stung her eyes as Wren fidgeted at her side. Even at a glance, her younger sister seemed different: harder somehow, older.

Wren lifted her chin, revealing a jagged cut down the column of her throat, and addressed their friends.

‘It feels strange to be the one to speak of Anya, when many of you knew her for so much longer,’ she began. ‘But she was our sister. It was a rocky start at first… but by the end, she was a part of us. We gather here now to remember her. Anya was complicated, but steadfastly loyal to her cause and her companions… She was a mosaic of contradictions, a blend of darkness and light, and as such, she mirrored the very heart of humanity.’

Wren sniffed. Still not able to find the words herself, Thea put a comforting arm around her as she continued.

‘Anya faced every challenge in her life with an unmatched ferocity, and yet, behind her steel exterior, there was a heart that beat with loyalty and love for those she held dear. When the dust has settled and we break bread together again, I hope we can celebrate her bravery on the battlefield, her resilience outside of it, and her unbreakable spirit.’

Wren’s words sank into Thea, and at long last, she let the tears spill down her face, a soft cry escaping her lips.

It should have been me. It should have been me.

With a nod to Wren, Talemir took the offered torch and stepped towards the pyre. ‘I wish it were Dratos doing this honour. He knew Anya the longest…’ Talemir hesitated, but with a nod of encouragement from Drue, he cleared his throat. ‘Rest in peace, dear friend. You will be remembered and cherished as long as tales of valour are told.’

Tears flowed freely down Thea’s face as Talemir touched the torch to the tinder beneath the pyre, and the fire roared to life. Flames engulfed the timber structure, swallowing Anya with it. Thea watched the blaze intensify, plumes of smoke drifting up into the sky to gather with the rest.

She was still holding Wren when her sister’s head came to rest on her shoulder, her tears wetting Thea’s shirt, her body shuddering with silent cries.

‘She gave us her power,’ Wren murmured, staring into the flames. ‘What in the realms do we do with it?’

‘Use it well, I guess…’ Thea closed her eyes against the heat of the fire, allowing it to warm her face. ‘But not now.’

‘What now, then?’ Wren asked.

Thea opened her eyes, watching the flames climb higher, watching the smoke drift towards that bright horizon. ‘Now, we say farewell.’

CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

WILDER

The days that followed were a blur. Wilder spent much of them assessing the damage to the fortress with Torj and Vernich. To the naked eye, Thezmarr’s mighty stronghold was in pieces – the Great Hall was gone and the outer walls were no more than piles of rubble. But the fortress had good bones, and there was much that could yet be saved. The residences, the teaching quarters and the war room, of all things, were salvageable with the right reinforcements.

As they worked, there was no missing the change in Torj, not to mention his new look, which took some getting used to. Wilder found himself startled more than once by his friend’s silver hair and dark eyes, and the glimpse of lightning-shaped scars across his tattooed chest peeking through the fabric of his shirt.

‘Quit the fucking staring,’ the Bear Slayer finally snapped, and Wilder could hardly blame him.

‘Sorry,’ he muttered, busying his hands with the weapons inventory before glancing up at his friend again. His fellow Warsword had been distant since his brush with lightning, distant and deep in thought. ‘Torj?’ he asked.

‘What?’

Wilder braced himself for anger. ‘Are you alright?’

Torj looked up from his task, his eyes stormy as they fell upon Wren, who was grinding herbs in a mortar across the hall. ‘When did you know?’ he said, voice low.

Wilder’s brow furrowed. ‘Know what?’

‘That Thea was the one for you?’

Rubbing the back of his neck, Wilder felt a pang of sympathy for the Bear Slayer, whose dark gaze hadn’t left the beautiful alchemist. ‘I always knew,’ Wilder told him honestly.

Torj nodded with a sigh of resignation. ‘Figured as much.’

The clean-up efforts were intense, so much so that Wilder hadn’t yet had the chance to return to his cabin with Thea. As much as he longed to sink into his own bed and wrap his arms around her, most nights they simply slept where they collapsed from exhaustion.

Adrienne was overseeing the clearing of the courtyard. Her face was grief-stricken, but she gave out orders with her usual efficiency. Masses of rubble were removed, catapults dismantled and discarded weaponry gathered. The Naarvian general did what she could, but it would be months, maybe even years until Thezmarr was in any semblance of a working state again. Her efforts, however, did yield another result: the discovery of Osiris’ hiding place. The former Guild Master was discovered in a partially ruined chamber, cowering as he had through the entire battle. Adrienne saw him put in chains and under guard to await Thezmarr’s judgement, though Wilder knew he wasn’t alone in secretly wishing she’d simply cut his throat.

Thea was caught up in talks with Wren, Audra, Kipp and Esyllt. Wilder saw the ravens come and go from the armoury, which they’d commandeered as their meeting house, though he didn’t give much thought to whom these messages were sent. No one had seen King Leiko since before the battle at Aveum; Queen Reyna was still licking her wounds from said battle, while King Artos awaited trial in her ice dungeons. It left two of the three kingdoms without rulers, and the third hanging on by a mere thread. With Anya gone, Thea was now heir apparent to Delmira, but no one had broached the subject yet, which was wise. They had enough to deal with as it was. Plans for long-fallen kingdoms could wait.

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