Page 118 of A Legacy of Wrath and Reckoning

Every part of her was burning. Sizzling. Every inch of her on fire. Lightning struck the shield, and an idea took root. Zylah began to hold out a hand, but hesitated. The last time she’d tried this, she’d almost caused more harm than good.

Do it, Holt told her as he released another wave of his magic, his arms trembling with the effort. If they both depleted themselves, if they both reached the end of whatever well of magic they shared, but Holt cut short the thought—I’ve got you.

Zylah raised a hand, directing her threads towards the next lightning strike and heaved, a silent scream leaving her as it struck her magic directly.

Burning. She was burning from the inside out. Zylah choked, thick smoke curling from her mouth. But she tore at the lightning, her threads weaving it across Aurelia’s shield like a blanket of light. Zylah sucked in a broken gasp as she finallyunderstoodthe magic, the way it connected to the Fae, to her very core. The way it filled the air, the aether, everything.

Holt roared with effort as he unfurled a final wave of his power, twining it with flames that lit up every crack in the rock, and at the same moment, Zylahpulled, Ranon’s wild gaze meeting hers.

Everything seemed to pause. The chanting. The wind. The storm. The fighting.

Then both the shield and the orb shattered.

Chapter Fifty-Nine

Zylah’searswereringing.Or maybe it was her head.

Holt’s arms were already around her as they were both thrown back, a groan erupting from him as they slammed into rock. Zylah rolled to her side, Holt moving with her, his magic pulsing against hers as they checked each other for injuries, their bond pulling tight between them.

Someone was screaming. Zylah looked up just in time to see Raif’s ash swirl around his mother, black flakes sticking to the Fae’s skin.

“You started all of this,” he hissed, his fangs at their full length, black eyes glaring down at Aurelia. “Let me end it.”

“Raif, let go!” Rose pleaded as their mother’s magic rippled in the air, an unspoken threat Zylah didn’t doubt Aurelia would follow through on. But Raif didn’t do as his sister asked.

Their mother met magic with magic and Raif cried out, both of them falling to their knees, but still he didn’t relent. So much ash, flecks of it covering Aurelia almost entirely. Her skin, her hair, her face, even her mouth as it opened in a silent scream and the particles of ash became cracks in her flesh.

Holt braced an arm around Zylah at the force of the magic as Raif gave everything he had, as Aurelia pushed back against it, too late. The fissures shattered just like her shield, every ashen piece of her floating away with the wind.

Raif slumped into the dirt, but behind Zylah and Holt, Ranon’s voice cut through the eerie quiet. For the first time since the shield and the orb had shattered, Zylah took in the sight around them, blinking against the shadows dancing in her vision.

Every priestess was dead.

Grimms and Asters and soldiers lay unmoving at the perimeter of the broken shield. Only Nye and Kej hobbled towards them, Daizin hunched between the pair, a soldier at their side. Every other soldier that had come through the gate with them was dead.

“Stay behind us,” Holt told their friends, helping Zylah to her feet. Beyond the circle of dead priestesses, Ranon took a step closer to the statues. Only two were no longer statues, but Fae, both of them seemingly a little dazed, but entirely whole.

Zylah recognised Pallia immediately, the sight of her grandmother alive and well bringing tears to her eyes. And the other—

“Sira,” Ranon said reverently, clutching what was left of his staff without the orb at its tip, reaching out towards the ancient Fae.

Holt shifted his stance, angling his body to cover Zylah behind him. Her threads were still intact, her vision impaired but her other sight remained. Yet breaking the shield should have depleted them entirely. Should have left them both utterly defenceless. The moments before it shattered they’d almost burnt out, almost reached the bottom of what they both had to give, but she could feel Holt’s magic pressing against hers, the strength of it wrapping around her.

Aurelia’s shield,Holt mused.I think your threads rewove her magic into you. Into us.

That… was a possibility. But something told Zylah it wouldn’t be enough against RanonandSira, and from this position, they couldn’t attack without injuring her grandmother as she stepped free of her strange tomb.

The third statue had shattered entirely, fragments of stone crumbling around it. Imala, Zylah presumed. Sira’s gaze slid to the broken stone of her sister’s tomb as Ranon called her name again. But she paid the male no heed. Her attention shifted instead to Pallia, her mouth set in a grim line, magic sparking between her fingertips, the air crackling with centuries-old power.

Zylah wasn’t certain who struck first, but the force of their blows sent both ancient Fae staggering backwards, and even Ranon stepped away from them, barking words in the same strange language he’d spoken during the ritual. And though her instinct was to help her grandmother, Ranon was an easier, less powerful target to pick off first.

My thoughts exactly.Holt summoned his sword to his hand, and Zylah did the same. She didn’t let herself glance back at her friends, only focused on Holt’s presence at her side, on his unwavering strength as she tested the power of the magic her threads had woven for her. For them.

As if he recognised his daughter’s magic, Ranon tore his attention from Sira and Pallia to face them both. His eyes no longer glowed red, and though he gripped his staff tightly, the end nothing but a jagged mess of glass, he stood at his full height, no signs of his previous ailment affecting him.

“Aurelia told me you were a mated pair.” His eyes darted between the two of them. “She’d done such an excellent job of destroying your bond, it was like it had never existed.” The ancient Fae chuckled.Chuckled.And then the laughter faded, followed by a wrinkle of his nose in disgust. “Yet here you stand, stinking of each other. And my daughter—”

“Is gone.” And Zylah didn’t doubt he already knew, had felt it, and hadn’t bothered to help her, too focused on his ritual. Behind Ranon, Sira and Pallia fought, vicious blows of magic leaving both of them breathless.

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