Page 104 of The Oracle of Dusk

She could still escape, flee to one of her hidden paths out of the vivarium.

“I can’t! They won’t listen! They’re going to—”

“Aurora, you did everything you could.”

She truly had. Aurora had exhausted herself trying to convince them to save their worthless lives. That she’d tried at all made her a better person than any other now standing in the vivarium.

“Please, don’t stay here! Come with me!”

She tugged on his arm. But he would not be moved. If he survived, Flora would force him or his body to hurt her in unspeakable ways. Epicasta had been correct. What he did now had been the result of his choices, and they had been poor. Aurora would be safer once he died. His people would free her, his cousin would protect her.

“I will not run from my fate.”

“Itcan’tbe fate! I can change it!”

And yet, she could not.

As foreseen, screams erupted. The shadows beneath the musicians rose up like a tide. Guests began fleeing. Others were swallowed whole in an instant. Theron enlarged his artefacts, giving himself both shield and spear. As chaos erupted, Theron was the eye of the storm, his body primed for battle as blood and viscera flew in every direction. The green finery of Viridis was soaked in crimson.

He knew what to do as soldiers poured in, more warm bodies for the monstrosities to tear through. He led his own charge, widening the protective space in front of Aurora as they were backed against a wall. Fleeing nobles and entertainers nearly knocked him to his feet. He tried to take the brunt of it for Aurora, but one sent her to her knees, her protective artefact slipping from her grasp. Theron forced himself to turn away, to focus on the battle in front of him. The divine magic infused into his artefacts dispelled the creatures as they bubbled up. But he already knew from experience and her vision that any relief from the onslaught was temporary. Soon, more would come up than he could handle.

Aurora screamed just as a group of paladins joined the fray. He turned to see her being dragged into the open maw of a monstrosity. Leaping back to her side, he thrust his spear into the beast, dispelling it. He looked back at her one last time, taking in her gore-spattered dress, her wide, panicked eyes, her bleeding leg, her manacled wrists.

Theron braced for the end.

A monstrosity drove its talon through his body, its own destroyed by touching the divine magic in his gold paint. The wound was lethal, his magic unable to heal the damage even as shock prevented him from feeling the pain. He stumbled as blood gushed from the enormous wound, and then collapsed on the floor. His magic recoiled from the wound, no truer sign that his thread had been cut.

Death swept over him in Her dark and endless embrace.

Chapter 18

Aurorascreamed,crawlingoverto where Theron had collapsed in a pool of his own blood. He couldn’t die! She was supposed to change this fate, to fight against it. If she couldn’t even do that, then how was she supposed to change anything—how was she supposed to save anyone? Her magic swirled inside her like a storm, itching to be freed. She had no control over it, but as the monstrosities began pouring out of every shadow, her options dwindled.

Not even the paladins were making headway, though they were distracting the beasts, keeping their focus off Aurora and Theron.

Aurora fumbled for the protective artefact nearby, activating it. She was covered head to toe in the shield, like a bubble shaped just like her, protruding from her skin by only a handspan. How long it would hold was anyone’s guess.

“Please, save him,” she pleaded, unleashing the magic inside her, begging it to suspend him in time, to keep him from death.

But it was stuck, trapped between her skin and the shield. She could feel it raking its claws against the shield, trying to get out. If she wanted to save him, she would have to risk her own life. Hand trembling, she turned off her shield.

Her magic latched onto Theron like prey, sinking into every bone and sinew and vein. The pool of blood around him stopped growing. Had she done it this time, as she had when they first met? She reached forward to try to move his hand but couldn’t, just like before. But just as she dared to hope, a monstrosity rose from the shadow of a dismembered torso, its eyes fixed on her.

As it clawed its way into her world, her heart crashed against her ribs. Was this the end for both of them? Was her fate to die not in her own time, but in the distant past, the future doomed?

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed.

Sorry for getting Phaedra and Silvanus killed. Sorry for dooming Trisia. Sorry to the deities who had entrusted her with this fate. Sorry for proving unworthy of her Orithyia’s faith. Sorry for meeting Theron and driving him to this end. He wasn’t supposed to die here, not like this. For all she knew, her presence in the ancient past was why the monstrosities had shown themselves in the guest palace. The only thing she’d changed was shortening his thread even further. The only thing she’d accomplished was becoming the most miserable disappointment in the history of Trisia. Every other Trisian given this task had succeeded. She’d been the first to fail, and given what Drakon would do in her absence, likely the last.

Aurora grabbed for Theron’s spear, swinging it wildly at the monstrosity. A task made all the harder by the fetters that kept her arms shackled. It easily dodged her fumbling attempt at self-defence, her arms shaking with the dual effort of keeping Theron suspended in time and holding up the massive weapon. She swung again. The beast dipped under the arc of the spear and lunged at her.

Just as its claws raked her face, a flash of light blinded her, and the shrieks of the monstrosities rang in her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut as tears streamed down her face at the sting of that light. The screeches of beasts were replaced by the groans and cries of men and women. Had they been saved? Who had wielded such power?

When at last the spots had cleared from her vision, she looked around. Paladins were busy healing the wounded, while palace guards bowed in reverence to a young man with a bow.

A bow with a very familiar symbol on it.

The holy sword…and the hero who wielded it.

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