Page 120 of Crown of Wrath

Instead of the landscape full of scorching winds and shards of glass, instead of the uninhabitable landscape of pain, grass and the beginning of a forest are growing. The wind still whispers of flames, but it’s the kind of heat that brings life to the world, not the kind that burns it away.

Cole was broken. First by his father and then by me, but he’s healed himself. I helped. I gave him the seeds to heal this place, but he nurtured it. He let the seeds take hold. He learned to smile and laugh. He learned that there was more to the world than anger and goals.

He embraced love when I wasn’t sure I could.

“We’re there,” my mother’s voice echoes from the very mist this world is built from. Cole’s smile fades some, but doesn’t disappear completely. Instead, he gives me a nod.

I whisper to him through the bond,Remember that if you can’t feel me, it’s because I’ve been in the void too long.

And you had better remember not to face Gethin on your own. If you find him, just keep your eyes on him and get Echo to pull the rest of us to you.

This time, it’s me that smiles at him.I’ll make sure you have your chance to face him if I find him first.

Then I turn to Sia, who looks and feels very nervous. “Are you ready?” I ask her. Sia, the djinn who Cole rescued from the Keep of Steel while he was calling in favors.

She nods to me. In my mind, she says,I’ve only wanted a single thing for so long. Just the freedom to do as I wish, to live and love and die asIchoose.I cannot wield a sword to help you, but I can speak for you. I cannot maintain a connection with everyone, though. One after the other, I can relay your messages for you, but I cannot maintain the connection with everyone at once.

“It will be hard to maintain a connection with me because I’ll be in and out of the void constantly.”

Sia nods silently and turns back to the human army in front of us. Sir Alistair Hawking stands amongst generals, and it’s obvious that they revere the man even though he’s so young. He’s grown on me as well. Even if he doesn’t understand Immortals any more than most of the humans, he’s clever and he can make mental leaps. Aric could have done far worse than Alistair. Even if he is an ass.

The ten thousand soldiers stand with no siege weapons, but they don’t need them since their assault is going to be as minimal as possible. All I need from them is to keep the defenders’ attention and to pull soldiers away from the Keep of Steel. Each soldier wears a massive handheld ballista on their back loaded with a steel bolt that can pierce even the thickest of steel plate armor.

They’re ready even if they’re terrified. Darian and Lee look nervous beside us as well. Darian will fly over the city after having transformed his body into a hawk. Sia will maintain a connection with him and communicate what he’s seeing with the rest of us. Lee will pretend to be a House of Steel soldier on the wall so that she can communicate with Sia if there’s going to be any attacks.

I’ve had time to think about Lee. I’ve had time to really consider what she did, and I trust her. Just like Darian and Cole, she’s been with me from the beginning. She says that Rhion isn’t like his father, and I believe her. I’ve gone over everything I know about Rhion, and I agree with her. Cole agrees with her. He isn’t like his father, and we’d already decided we didn’t want to kill him.

We’re going ahead with the plan and hoping that Rhion does as he says and doesn’t join the battle. Both Cole and I expect Gethin to have put him in charge of the dungeons. Freeing even a few hundred House of Flames soldiers would be catastrophic to Gethin’s plans if all of his soldiers were manning the walls.

We hope Rhion does what he said, but we can’t plan around hope.

The last shadow walkers are clustered together, each of them wrapped in black cloaks that are reminiscent of the Shadowed Cloak and carry obsidian knives so that they don’t have to extend any extra energy transporting steel in and out of the void. A hundred of them. The only survivors of the Shattering.

And Casimir, Echo, Cole, and myself. The holders of three Thrones against one. It should be an obviously one-sided battle, but no one believes that.

“Ready?” I ask, and everyone nods. I tell Sia to inform Alistar it’s time to march out of Valinar. He puts his hand to his head and stares at the ground as she gives him orders, and he mutters something to the generals who all fan out to deploy their troops. A moment ago, this place felt like Valinar. Like the Nothing. Silent other than little mutterings. Now, it’s the beginning of a battle, and the clang of steel on steel and boots on stone ring everywhere.

I give the commands one at a time to Sia mentally, and she relays them to the individual parties. Darian nods to me, becoming a bird, and Lee, wearing a suit of House of Steel armor, grows wings. They take off. The shadow walkers begin to keep track of time, waiting the allotted amount before going to the Keep of Steel. Half of them will release the imprisoned Flames soldiers. The other half will search for Gethin.

I think it will work. Cole and Casimir agree that it’s the best plan we have if we don’t want to kill everyone.

But you know what they say about plans…

Chapter 60

The void is so much more dangerous than anywhere on Nyth, and yet all of us shadow walked, thinking we were safe. What fools we were. Thank the gods that the Five hid us from everyone, not just the hunters. Otherwise, the House of Shadows would be nothing but food for the creatures that lurk in the darkness.

~Echo Vael, The Future of Magic and Dragons

Maeve

Echo gives me a nervous smile and falls through her revulsion shadows. I take Cole and Casimir’s hands before following her into the void. As soon as we’re in the darkness, I pull us out in the Throne room of the House of Steel, hopeful that Gethin is here. He’s not.

The Throne sits against the wall, carved from a single slab of gray stone—not Steel as I’d expected. At first glance, it looks like the others, yet every other Throne gleams as though it was forged yesterday, their polished surfaces catching the light in soft, perfect reflections. But the Steel Throne is different. It’s worn. Tiny, nearly imperceptible piles of gray dust gather at the base, settling beneath the armrests like silent remnants of time itself. The stone is marred. The armrests are carved with shallow grooves—scratches where Gethin’s nails have worn away the surface over thousands of years.

The rest of the room is a clash of grandeur and ruin, opulence curdling into madness. Rich rugs and elaborate tapestries, the kind that would seem gaudy even in Stormhaven, have been shoved aside, heaped into careless piles in the corners. Silver tables stand overturned, golden goblets lie discarded, their spilled contents pooling in dark, viscous puddles across the floor. Wine or blood—it’s impossible to tell.

Beyond the doors, the Keep is alive with chaos. Shouts rise and fall as soldiers bark frantic orders, their words lost beneath the steady clamor of steel against stone. Boots hammer against the floors as an army mobilizes, and the city braces for war.

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