Page 299 of Emylia

The willow branches stirred above us, peaceful.

Mocking.

A world that didn’t know how to mourn her.

I bowed my head over her body, my forehead resting against her cooling skin.

“May you rest with the Goddess Elessandria," I whispered through broken sobs. "Every morning the sun rises, I will know you’re still looking down on me.” A shattered breath stilled me. “Tell Dad I love him. Tell him— Tell him I’m sorry."

I pressed my hands flat against her chest, as if I could push my soul into hers and drag her back.

"I love you," I choked out. "I love you."

Fresh sobs tore free, unstoppable now.

There would be no burial.

No rites.

No sending her soul properly to the Goddess.

Her body would be left to the elements—beautiful even in death, and utterly, irretrievably gone.

Something inside me broke.

Not cracked.

Shattered.

A scream ripped itself from my throat, ragged and guttural, louder than anything I had ever made before.

The earth answered.

The ground trembled under my knees. The trees shuddered. The air itself seemed to groan, the world protesting with me, the very bones of the land aching for her loss.

But it wasn’t enough.

Nothing would ever be enough.

“Princess?”

Maalikai’s voice sounded far away. A crackle against the roaring void swallowing me whole.

I didn’t turn.

I didn’t breathe.

My head snapped up—thirty men, maybe more, armor gleaming like beacons calling my wrath.

My scream shattered the stillness, dragging them toward us. I rested my palm against Akaela’s rough skin—siphoning as much power as she would give me.

One second, the world was frozen.

The next—I was the storm.

Power crackled through me, roaring, shrieking, drowning every broken part of me.

Hyperventilating, I tried—failed—to pull in air.

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