Page 150 of The Eternal Mirror
I turn to Grimlet; he’s wrinkling his nose. “Pretty witch smells like the dark lord.”
Ugh.“Seriously? I could have done without knowing that. Look after Josh.”
“We will look after each other.”
“Good.”
That just leaves Thanouq.
He gives a small bow. “Thank you. From all my people.”
“My pleasure.”
And that’s it. I take another deep breath, turn away, and start walking. Khaosti falls in beside me. Of course he does. We don’t touch; we don’t speak. We don’t need to. We weave silently through the trees.
Everything is frozen. Waiting. Smoke and shadow roll low across the scorched grass. Khronus stands beneath the Mirror, arms lifted, as if he’s already won. His magic hums in the air—silent, invisible, absolute. I feel it pressing against my skin like static. Like something watching me.
But I don’t stop walking.
And they don’t stop me.
The remnants of his army—twisted shifters, broken gods, men who should have known better—stand between me and my destiny. Khronus shouts. Blades rise. But they hesitate. An arrow whistles through the air. My hand lifts, almost lazily, and green fire swirls up around me. The arrow twists midair and clatters harmlessly to the ground.
Another follows. Then a third.
They all fall.
Swords warp, axes split.
And the army parts around me like I’m made of fire. Maybe I am.
I don’t burn anyone.
I just make them stop.
Because I’m almost done with death. Done with killing people just because they stood on the wrong side of a war. There’s just one more death I crave.
Behind me, I hear Khaos shift.
Bones snap. Power surges.
And then Wrath rises into the sky, tearing through the clouds like a prophecy coming true. His wings blot out the stars. His roar makes the Mirror ripple.
I draw Nightfall, but I don’t raise her.
I just walk forward—one step, two, ten—until I’m close enough to see Khronus’s eyes. They’re gold, bright and cold. But I see it now—the flicker beneath. The fear. He senses the change in me. He doesn’t know what it means. But he soon will.
I lift Nightfall, power rushing through my fingers and then through my sword. And I speak the spell that the darkness whispers to me:
“Invisible shield, I speak your name—
Break before my dark-born claim.”
The air sizzles. The ground fractures. A low shudder ripples outward like thunder underwater.
And then—his wards collapse.
I feel it like a snap in the air. The space around him thins. Weakens. He stares like he’s seeing something he never thought possible.
