Page 200 of Ash and Feather

Many of the humans slowed their charge as well, watching the strange scene unfolding before them.

And still—like I had so many times in the past—I kneeled in the middle of it, a witness to both sides, uncertain of where to go next.

Antaeum trembled against my back.

I gripped its hilt, trying to think.

If I could simply find out a way to wake its power, then all the soldiers here would be witnesses to whatever magic it contained— magic that would supposedly fix all of the madness surrounding us.

And maybe this was the answer I’d been looking for.

As I held the dagger more tightly, a thought occurred to me. Quiet at first, but growing rapidly in size as the seconds passed: The idea that just as the Moraki had left my scars for the world to see, maybe the heart was not as hidden as I’d believed it to be.

Maybe it was beating close.

Very close.

The idea was both terrifying and freeing.

Slowly, I rose to my feet, staring again at the madness rushing all around me. I felt oddly still and silent compared to it all. Smoke filled my lungs, like it had on the day I broke through the barriers surrounding my old home and found myself standing in a burning field. The same mixture of horror and possibility overtook me now as it had then. The same sense of pain and realization. Of strength in spite of weakness.

Move, I told myself now, same as I’d told myself then.You have things to finish.

I spotted a small plateau a short distance away and walked toward it, climbing the rocky outcropping that led to its highest point.

Mairu and my sister swooped overhead, close enough that I could see the concerned, questioning look in Savna’s eyes.

I waved her away.

“Meddling again. Because of course you are.”

I wasn’t surprised to hear Andrel’s voice.

After all the battles we’d endured against one another, it seemed fated that we should meet one last time.

“You never fuckinglearn, do you?” I turned to see him scrambling up the rocks, huffing for breath as he reached the same large, flat stretch of stone I stood on.

He didn’t move with his usual grace.

Instead, he advanced on me with a wild, merciless gleam in his eyes, the sword in his hand already dripping with someone else’s blood. He skipped his usual arrogant speech, too, and moved immediately to attack, aiming the sword toward my chest.

I ducked, sweeping around behind him.

He twisted and darted for me again.

The only weapon I carried was Antaeum, so instinctively I whipped it from its sheath, gripped it with both hands, and threw it up just in time to parry his blow.

He slammed into my smaller blade with enough force that it rattled my teeth and bones and made the muscles in my arms feel as if they were in danger of ripping apart.

I dug in my heels and pushed back.

Divine strength surged through me. Heat enveloped me. And the dagger in my hands began to hum, the symbols on the black blade gleaming more brightly than ever before.

Andrel’s sword was suddenly, briefly overtaken by a crackling, silver-colored energy—Antaeum’s power, undoing whatever runes he’d fortified the weapon with.

He stumbled back, nearly dropping that blade in shock.

I started to lower my dagger.

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