Page 223 of The Iron Flower

“What a startling turn of events,” he says, shaking his head. “I am glad it’s you, Elloren.”

Me, of all people.

The Black Witch.

Jules reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out a small bouquet of Ironflowers, the glowing blue blossoms a match for the sapphire Noi runes glowing around the room.

“Lucretia wanted you to have these,” he says, growing reflective, eyeing the blooms. “The Ironwood tree has an interesting life cycle. It spends one long year on the forest floor as a delicate, fragile flower. Easily broken. Easily destroyed.” His eyes meet mine. “But if it survives, it seeds to become a strong, deeply rooted tree.”

I take the flowers, their glow washing over my hand like a splash of paint. “These flowers,” I tell him, eyeing the luminous blossoms, “they were used to fight demons in our myths.”

When I look up at him, his expression has grown serious. “The true demons of this world come in many guises, Elloren Gardner. Go find them,” he says, his tone unyielding. “And go fight them.”

Bolstered, I take one last look at Jules, then straighten and turn to face Commander Vin. “Let’s go.”

EPILOGUE

Hours later, I’m dressed in Noi battle armor and being silently led through a series of descending, tunneling passageways, the White Wand sheathed at my side.

I follow the long line of Vu Trin sorceresses, my eyes set on the straight back of the young sorceress before me as I try to beat back the claustrophobic sense that we’re inescapably burrowing down toward the very center of Erthia.

Eventually, the corridor spills out into an enormous cave that I take in with no small amount of awe.

Crystalline stalagmites and stalactites rise and fall all around us, their translucent surfaces glinting blue in the Noi rune-light. The mineral formations have been cleared away in the center of the cave, the hard floor a flattened swirl of crystal.

A throng of Vu Trin sorceresses and a smattering of young Smaragdalfar men and women mill about, stacking crates of weapons. Off to the side, a line of horses is saddled and tethered, most of them weighted down with the heavy packs needed for a long journey.

But none of this is what draws my eye like a moth to lantern light, my breath catching tight in my throat.

In the center of the cavern stands an arc of rotating Noi runes forming the outline of a passageway. A line of blue light scythes from rune to rune, spitting out slim veins of sparking lightning over the expanse of the rune-portal’s frame. The center of the portal is wavy and rippling, like the surface of a golden lake.

Two white-haired, elderly Vu Trin soldiers stand at the portal’s sides. One of the women supports herself on a long rune-staff and is tapping what seems like a series of codes into the portal with a flat, rune-marked stone.

A pat on my arm pulls my attention away from the huge portal and toward a serious young sorceress, the reins of a horse tightly gripped in her hand. She motions curtly for me to mount, the other soldiers in our party already pulling themselves astride horses.

I climb on top of the ebony mare and ride toward the looming portal with Commander Vin and our party’s small contingent of soldiers.

I slow my horse to a stop before the looming portal and look toward it with mounting apprehension.

I’ve no idea where it leads.

Commander Vin rides up beside me and turns to look at me. The motion crinkles the neckline of her tunic, revealing a small tattoo just below her collarbone.

A white bird.

“Are you ready, Elloren Gardner?” she asks.

I reflexively reach for the comfort of the White Wand as I take in the shimmering portal before me.

I think of Uncle Edwin and my brothers. Of Fernyllia and Fern. Bleddyn and Olilly and all the kitchen workers. I think of Wynter and Ariel, Cael and Rhys and Andras. The Lupines, Tierney, Aislinn...

Everyone I love.

And Yvan.

I grasp the Wand firmly and turn to Commander Vin. “I’m ready,” I say with conviction.

She glances down at my fastmarked hand clenched around the Wand’s handle. A satisfied smile turns up the corners of her lips. She straightens on her horse and motions toward the portal before us.

“Then enter, Elloren Gardner.”

I tighten my grip on the Wand, drawing comfort from the feel of the spiraling wood. My affinity lines flare—earth, fire, air and a slim trace of water.

Full of resolve, I prod my horse forward, the Ironflowers Jules gave me tucked into the collar of my tunic. The portal’s wall of shimmering gold ripples as I approach, flashing silver as I ride into it.

I’ll be different from you, Grandmother, I inwardly vow as the Western Realm fades away behind me.And I’ll be back for Marcus Vogel.

I’m going to take him down.

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