Page 74 of Sundered By Fate

Davin's eyes flared, but he nodded, his mouth a grim line. "I don't like it. But I trust you."

"And I you. Keep them safe, Dav."

Davin's eyes widened, but he nodded, lips pressed thin. "Just—be careful, alright?"

Aric gave him a lopsided grin. "When have we ever been careful?"

"There's a first time for everything."

Davin looked at him, and in that moment, their eyes met. There was a thousand unspoken things in that look, a lifetime of shared battles and unvoiced fears.

"Go!" Davin's shout was almost lost in the din, but Aric caught it. "I'll hold it off. Just?—"

Aric watched Davin go, already barking orders to the palace guards. He was confident, assured, even after everything he'd been through. Aric felt a twinge of guilt for putting him in harm's way again, but there was no one else he trusted more to protect the civilians.

And if he couldn't trust Davin, who would he trust?

Aric took a deep breath, trying to focus. The rift was the key; he was sure of it. If they could close it, the demons would be cut off, and they could regroup, plan a counterstrike.

Aric's mind was racing, trying to piece together a plan. They needed to close as many of the rifts as they could to cut down on the sheer numbers pouring in. But the streets were clogged with panicking civilians and the demons that had already slipped through.

Aric and the Silver Tower leaders worked through them swiftly, the smaller peons falling easily to simple spells.

Yet as he worked, a sickening dread settled in his gut. How had this invasion caught them so off guard? The wards around the city should have given them some warning, some chance to prepare. Instead they were scrambling, grasping at straws in the face of overwhelming odds.

He pushed the thought aside, focusing on the immediate task at hand. He couldn't afford to dwell on what he should havedone, what signs he might have missed. Right now, there was only the fight, and he had to be ready to give it everything he had.

But as he continued to direct the defense, a realization hit him with the force of a physical blow.

The rift was centered right over one of the city's ley lines.

And the same ley line that had been the focus of Valerian's secret research.

Understanding sparked in Aric's mind as the pieces fell into place. The rift wasn't happening in spite of the magical disturbances.

It was happening because of them.

The magical fluxes, the drained aether, the anomalies—it was all connected. And the demons had found a way to exploit it. The demons, or Valerian? Were they working as one?

This was what the visions had warned him about. The shadow in the court, the danger lurking within their own walls. Aric had been so focused on stopping the anomalies and proving his own innocence that he hadn't seen the true danger the anomalies posed.

Had Sylthris seen it? Had the Silver Tower?

Had Valerian?

How could he have been so blind? If he'd only figured this out sooner, they might have had more time to prepare, more time to stop whatever nightmare had been set in motion.

Guilt and anger warred within him as he fought to keep his focus. He couldn't lose himself in recriminations, not now. Not when their very survival hung in the balance.

Malekith. Was he still out there, somewhere in the chaos, struggling and bleeding and suffering? Or had he already been lost, sacrificed on the altar of the demons' whims? Aric felt a hollowness spreading through him at the thought, a cold void where his anger and determination had once burned.

And it was his fault. He'd thought he was doing the right thing, trying to stop the anomaly from ripping their worlds apart. But all he'd managed to do was get them both caught up in the demons' power plays, a pawn and a traitor, respectively.

He tried to push the thoughts aside, to concentrate on the battle at hand. But it was no use; the images kept creeping in, like a sickness festering in his gut.

The rift. The demons. The price he would pay for his failure.

Aric shook himself, forcing his breathing to steady, the cold iron of control to return. He'd have to save the self-recriminations for later; right now, there was a battle to be won.

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