Page 30 of Blaze

He dips his head in acknowledgment and lopes toward the fight. His flames aren’t coming, but he’s strong enough to fight nonetheless. I sprint after Blaze, helping her to her feet when she’s halfway to the cage. She leans on me with a grateful smile as we limp forward, me supporting most of her weight. She looks weary but determined.

“My child,” Cyllene croons when we reach her. She presses her hands to one of the bars as though she’ll reach through to pat my head. Her smile is downright maternal and warms me to my toes, banishing the last of the discomfort from the rain. Just being near her is a revelation. “You’ve come for me, at last. I knew you would.”

Of course, she knew. She’s all of our gifts wrapped into one. The ruler, the mother, the prophet. She probably saw this coming years ago and got impatient waiting for the vision to come true.

“Give me a second,” Blaze says, lifting the lock from the door of the cage.

It’s easily the size of her palm and so well-enchanted I can feel the spells from here. Her hands are twitching in pain from just touching the surface. She doesn’t drop it though, even when her skin begins to crack and grow fur. Lycaon has bespelled it to turn anyone who tries to open it into a hound that he can control. Her features grow more lupine by the second, her hellhound half pushing through her flimsy human exterior. For a moment, I want to see what she looks like when she’s truly one of us, then I banish the notion. I don’t want her under Lycaon’s control. I want her just as she is, my beautiful mate.

The lock makes a horrible sound when it burns, running in molten streaks down her hand, which as I watch is pausing in its morphing into a paw. The changes stop when the spells degrade, leaving Blaze in a half-form. Pricked canine ears, a tail, and sharp teeth, but otherwise human. She looks rather cute and I can’t help my amused chuckle. She catches me staring and bares her teeth. Then she swings the door open with a flourish.

Cyllene unfolds herself and stands to her full height, easily a head taller than all of us. She stands ten feet tall or more. Flames ripple over her skin and she shrinks down only a fraction as she resumes her true form, a golden beacon of pure light and rippling fur. She resembles us only in passing, too perfect to be called anything as lowly as a ‘hellhound’. My knees bend on instinct, awed by her. She nudges Blaze’s cheek, licking her once in gratitude. And then she’s gone, leaving me blinking spots from my eyes.

A shriek draws our attention away from Cyllene’s absence. Maddox is in his human form now, standing straight and proud, holding Vita by the scruff of her neck. The Fenrir is on the ground, weakened to the point of exhaustion, but not dead. The creature gave Maddox the opening he needed to get close to Vita. Now she’s wriggling, trying to get free, but it’s no use. She can’t reach back to lay her hands on him and she’s too tired from her fight with the giant wolf to draw from Maddox at a distance. She looks smaller in his grip.

“Unhand me!”

Maddox bares his teeth at her. It’s not a smile. “Certainly, your highness,” he growls.

Then he shoves her off the edge of the cliff and into the blackness below. Her scream is high and thready and disappears into nothingness when a conjunction opens beneath her. She falls down through the Fantasian sky into the waiting army below. Revenants and skeletons march on Morningstar’s army, backed by enormous bears, human warriors, and creatures I have no name for. Morningstar himself doesn’t seem to be faring well, bloodied and warding off blows from every side. He can smash as many revenants as he likes, but they keep advancing, heedless of danger.

Vita lands on a spear held by a half-rotted soldier, impaled through the heart. But I only note as much in my periphery. Two battles interest me more. The hellhounds at the front of Morningstar’s line ripple, shaking themselves like dogs shedding water as their will returns in full force—now that our goddess has been freed. We are all free. And that means we’re all angry.

Lycaon shrieks orders at the legion of hellhounds when they turn in unison to face him, but it’s no use. I relish the fear in his eyes when he disappears under a wave of my brethren. I can’t hear the snaps and pops or meaty ripping sounds that must ensue, but I’m satisfied that they’re happening nonetheless.

Morningstar’s bellow is audible, even across the space between worlds, a furious war cry as he charges toward the enemy line, trampling hounds beneath his feet. There are too many for him to destroy, too many of them ripping at his legs, his arms, and his face. Too many to fight. He’s too preoccupied with picking them off to notice when a slip of a girl approaches him slowly, shepherd’s crook in hand. She looks like a bit of fluff that could float away on a light breeze, but her expression is determined when she stops shy of him.

Morningstar says something I can’t hear when she places a gentle hand on one side of his face. She says something in response, smiling sadly down at him. And then she strikes. It’s not visible to the naked eye, but the effects are instantaneous. Morningstar’s limbs go slack and the furious light in his eyes dims. The entire battle comes to a brief halt when he sways and then falls forward, collapsing at her feet.

“Bowie did it,” Blaze says in a hushed whisper beside me. “She actually did it. She took his soul.”

“May it rest in Avernus,” Maddox spits.

“Indeed,” she says. “It’s the least he deserves. But does this mean...” She glances up at me hopefully. “Does this mean the war’s over? If Morningstar is dead, gone... does that mean we’ve won?”

I curl her into my side. She fits there. For the first time since we were conquered, I feel hopeful for the future. Lycaon is dead, our goddess is free, and I have my mate by my side. I kiss the top of her head.

“Yes, Blaze. It’s over. The Guild won. Thanks to you.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

BLAZE

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Kassidy asks, staring at the flask in my hands doubtfully.

Everyone has gathered for a celebration in Sweetland Castle at Prince Nonpareil’s invitation. King Andric and Queen Arianwen wanted to host the celebrations in Delerood, but there’s too much work to be done. Morningstar and his people left it in ruins, and it will take years to restore the port city to its former glory. Arianwen’s kingdom is still intact, but as none of us can breathe underwater, save her other two consorts, we opted to have the party elsewhere. The only castle still reasonably intact was in Sweetland.

The mood is notably subdued, even though there’s much to celebrate. We lost many to Morningstar’s savagery before he and his people were defeated. Many of the Chosen aren’t present, too busy dealing with the aftermath elsewhere. Ember is notably missing, trying to figure out how to dispose of Bacchus without releasing him. One of Kassidy’s husbands, Sorren, aided Ember in capturing Bacchus in a maze-like trap underground. Kassidy smirks, referring to it as ‘Bacchus in a box.’ He can’t escape the order she’s imposed on it, nor flee the illusory nightmares Sorren set on him inside. He’s not dead, which they find troubling, but he isn’t free to inflict harm on Fantasia, so it’s still considered a victory.

Queen Carmine is still restoring the world to what it was before Vita’s arrival. Her two remaining husbands are present at the party, anxiously awaiting her return. Neva is in recovery after she lost her hand and not feeling well enough to mingle, understandably. Tinker is in her own kingdom, working out an alliance with Maura LeChance, who will become the new Unseelie Ruler in Septimus’ stead. Arianwen is rebuilding Delerood. Belle is still battling Kronos, though everyone says she’s sure to emerge victorious.

Only Kassidy, Briar, and I are free to socialize, which is a shame but is what it is. They both seem to think me mad for the choice I’m about to make. I swirl the contents of my glass with a small smile. It’s the consistency and color of ink and is sure to taste just as vile. It doesn’t matter. I’ve made my decision.

“I’m sure.”

Briar purses her lips. “But... it’s a potion to turn you into a hellhound.”

“And according to the doctor who came up with it, he says it will be difficult to reverse,” Kassidy adds. “You might not be able to come back from this, Blaze.”

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