Page 44 of Crown of Wrath

There’s a pause before a hiss cuts through the stillness. “Hiding? Why would I hide, Prince Cole?” The words are sharp and brittle, nothing like Maeve. “I’m not afraid for myself. No, I always survive. It’s everyone else—everyone I care about—that suffers. You told me once that Darian and Lee were your weaknesses. You said that seeing them hurt would break you. You would have let yourself die before letting them be harmed. I know what that’s like now. They’re gone. I couldn’t protectmyweaknesses, and now they’re gone. All of them—except you, Darian, and Lee. And I refuse to let you die just because you’re connected to me.”

Shadows slither across the beach, misty tendrils spilling like smoke. They twist and writhe, coalescing into images. At first, it’s a wall of impenetrable darkness, so like the Nothing, until a boy appears, chasing a ball that rolls ahead of him.

A scream tears through the stillness as the darkness surges forward, swallowing the boy. This time, unlike in reality, I see it all. The shadows part, revealing the boy as his screams are cut short. His skin peels away in ribbons, his body flayed until there’s nothing left but silence and stillness.

Then it’s gone, vanishing in an instant—but only for a moment.

The shadows shift again, forming the figure of a woman I recognize immediately. Hazel. I only saw her for a few moments, but her face is unforgettable. Even now, made of swirling shadows, the effigy smiles, her eyes alight with happiness. This is how Maeve remembers her cousin.

The Nothing looms behind her. There’s no hesitation. It sweeps over her, consuming her in brutal, agonizing detail. It’s slow and deliberate. Hazel’s form crumbles, ripped apart piece by piece. My stomach twists, and I finally understand why Maeve nearly broke. She had to go cold to survive this. Not only losing Hazel to the Nothing, but that she’d been tortured to death.

The only bodies that are left behind by the Nothing are ripped and shredded, but we never found Hazel’s body. We looked for it.

There were enough bodies left behind at Blackgrove, though. Nothing had changed. Several of the older farmers who Maeve knew were left as little more than piles of gore. The only thing she could recognize them by was their hats and clothes.

I grit my teeth as the feelings that have been with Maeve since that day wash over me. The pain. The longing for her cousin. The sense of failure for not protecting her. And the anger… Morethan anything, that anger pulses like a metronome, constantly behind everything that happens.

“I am not hiding, Cole Cyrus,” the voice echoes. “Everyone dies. I tried to fight the Nothing. I tried to defend my weaknesses from it. In the end, everyone died except you, Darian, and Lee, but it’s only a matter of time before all of you die as well.”

Then I see, all at once, the entire village of Aerwyn—all the people that I saved from eternal torment and slavery—being ripped apart by the Nothing. Her father is standing just outside it, and… then it ends. Maeve’s broken soul can’t imagine what happened to her father. It’s too much for her to accept.

“That is the past, Maeve,” I say softly. “Darian, Lee, and I won’t die to the Nothing. We’ve fought it alongside you.”

“Maybe,” the voice whispers. “Maybe you’ll survive the Nothing, but you won’t survive Gethin. You won’t survive Rhion. I watched you. If I hadn’t been there, you’d have died. If Lee or Darian had been there instead, they’d have died. I will not have any more of my weaknesses die, Cole Cyrus. You’re all I have left.”

The voice is so brittle. She’s lost so many people, and she’s not wrong. I have no idea what will happen if I face Gethin right now. No one’s seen him fight. No one knows what he’s capable of.

“Then stand with us and fight, Maeve. You can’t hide here. That won’t save anyone.”

The wind whispers across the sand, and I can’t help but hear the melancholy in its barely audible movement. “You’ll always be here with me. Even if something happens out there, I can always see you here.”

From the black sand, a figure appears. Somehow made of the black sand on the beach rather than shadows. She’s a beautiful image of Maeve, every inch of her body the same as in the physical world. Except that she’s not wearing a crown.

Her bare body moves toward the open ocean of the void behind me, and from the void, an image appears. Shadows appear in my shape, but slowly, that darkness becomes more refined. Instead of a shadow effigy, it becomes… me. Shadows made flesh. Softly tanned skin. The striated scars that cross my back on full display as I watch Maeve run her finger made of sand across his cheek.

She’s recreating memories of me. “You’ll always be safe here,” she whispers to the flesh and blood effigy in front of me. “You’ll never have to fight here. You can finally feel the peace of the darkness here, Cole. You can be free like I am.”

Free? No, this is a cage. “This isn’t real, Maeve. This is in your mind.”

She shakes her head. “Who’s to say this is any less real than that other world we lived in? You healed because I did something in your landscape. Why can’t I stay here forever?”

“Your body will die.”

She turns away from the flesh and blood effigy, a serious look on her face. “What does that matter? The void will take me then? Or will I stay here? I think either are preferable to being forced to watch you and Darian and Lee die in front of me like everyone else has.”

I close my eyes, and a tear rolls down my cheek. I failed her.

“Everything’s fine, Cole,” she says, the finger made of black sand running over my cheek and wiping my tear away. “Nothing can hurt us here. Nothing can hurt our weaknesses here. We’re safe. Forever. Stop trying to let that weight on your shoulders force you to do something that only causes more pain.”

Her finger is like silk brushing my skin, and I realize the only chance I have. It’s the same possibility that helped her before. I can die. She’s accepted this, but the last time she started to crack, she showed me how to help her.

Cole Cyrus is a man that can die, but the Shade is a legend, and legends never die.

Chapter 21

Every soul is shaped from the pieces of the world they care about the most. An artist’s soul will be painted. A warrior’s will be filled with sharp and deadly creatures. A child of darkness will find shadows. The sleeping mind cannot use words, but it can find meaning in images.

~Maeve Arden, A Future of Magic and Dragons

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