Page 325 of Heat of the Everflame

I clenched my jaw and drew the arrow back as far as the bowstring would stretch. This was my moment. My chance to end more slaughter before it started.

But it would make me a murderer in an inescapable, inexcusable way. There was no chaos of battle this time, no self-defense, no imminent harm to force my hand. This was a calculated killing. No good intention could ever change that.

War is death and misery and sacrifice. War is making choices that will haunt you for the rest of your days.

“Now, Diem,” Luther urged.

I took a deep breath, and offered up a silent prayer for forgiveness.

“No,” my mother whispered.

Too late.

My fingers relaxed, and the arrow flew.

It sliced through the air with a whistle, carried by my will and a fierce burst of my power. My heart and my godhood squeezed each other close as we awaited my victim’s demise.

The magic struck true. Its shadowy point speared into the soft, vulnerable flesh at the base of his neck.

Then... it disappeared.

It didn’t cut clean through or fly off course. It didn’t fall to the ground or bounce off a last-minute shield. It simplydisappeared.

Absorbed right into his skin.

The man’s supernatural glow flared bright, his aura pulsing with new strength. Goosebumps prickled across my skin.

Luther swore and threw up his shield, then grabbed my arm. “We can’t fight him. We need to run.”

But I couldn’t move. My mind fumbled for some explanation other than what my heart already knew to be true.

“Impossible,” my mother breathed. “It’simpossible.He can’t be...”

The man slowly turned on his heel. His smokey eyes—so like my own—found me in an instant.

“He’s seen us,” Luther hissed. “We have to run.”

A panicked cry cracked out of my mother. “Diem... that man... he’s—”

“Hello, Auralie,” the man crooned.

His voice carried as if he were standing right at our side, his tone smooth and rich with power. His silvery skin glittered as his lips curled into a malicious smile.

His eyes slid back to me. “Hello, daughter. At last, we finally meet.”

Chapter

Sixty-Two

Itried to kill my father.

Hours had passed, and the same six words ricocheted inside my skull, drowning out the sounds around me—the crackling fire, the quiet whispers between Luther and my mother, the chirps and howls of the forest creatures lurking in the night. All of it dimmed in the echoes of that one horrifying thought.

I tried to kill my father.

No—Andrei was my father. This man was something else. Something powerful and unnatural. Something terrifying.

Something just like me.

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