Page 129 of War Hour
Shovingdown the struggle that battles inside me, I turn to face the dawn of a new War Hour.
Lord Drytas’s men barrel down the hill toward their new unified enemy; the Untrialed and what remains of the Truth’s military. A renewed fight sparks in their eyes.
Stretching my hands out in front of me, I try to summon a sliver of my shield one last time. But nothing comes. The hum that sings through my blood is gone.
For a moment, I panic, twisting around to look for Evander. Only he could take my power away like this. But no matter how many faces I search, his is not one of them.
There is only one other explanation. My power burned out from stretching myself too thin. Now I can only fight. Fight as an Untrialed once more.
The distance shrinks between us and the army of guard, but their attack starts long before. In a storm of weapons, our swords raise, bows snap, as they lift everything we have and rain them down on us.
It’ll be a quick battle. We are outnumbered. Outpowered.
A glow cascades over the field, haloing around us as if the sun were at our back. Turning, dead on my feet, I realize what would be our saving grace.
The white light radiates off a portal that cuts a hole in the space behind us. Sar stands on the other side of the portal, hair whipping around her as she expands the portal. Her mouth moves, but I can’t hear her words.
When sound can reach her, I mouth the words, “Are they coming?”
She knows I mean the other courts—the ones who vowed to help whoever Drytas attacked.
Sar shakes her head.
I don’t even have the energy to shout for everyone to go through the portal, but Thoman does it for me, screaming for a retreat. Waves of people hurry past me through the portal, watching in awed terror as they escape certain death.
Staring up at where Lord Drytas sits perched on his heel, I can’t help but smirk. He’d thought we would die on this hill, protecting the Trial till we took our last breaths.
The Trial did not need protecting. It was the people.
He could have the Trial, and we’d see how much he could do with it when he had no people to Trial. Unless he wanted to start sacrificing his guard.
Backing up toward the portal, I turn to look through, making sure everyone has made it through. My heart clenches in my chest at who stands next to Sar.
Torryn.
His dark hair whips around his face, and like Sar he calls out to me. Mouth echoing words I can’t hear. Face pinched in worry, his panicked eyes search me, and it is as if he can see what has happened. Maybe he’s in my head andcansee it.
The slice on my throat from the Trial hall when the guard had held a knife to my throat. The blood that stains my shirt red from the holes that now litter up and down my back. Maybe he can even see that I’ve lost control of my shield, burned out.
Staring at Drytas in the distance, his face is monstrous in his anger. Red, with veins popping out. He reaches toward one of his guards, pulling a dagger from their side. He throws it, using his telekinesis to slingshot it across the miles of the battlefield.
Aimed straight for me.
I move for the portal and just as I start to step through, I stumble, a fierce pain stabbing between my shoulder blades.Unable to hold myself up any longer. I fall through the portal into Torryn’s arms, who catches me—calling my name repeatedly the whole time.
The world around me blurs as Torryn tilts my face toward his. “Lysta, talk to me,” he urges. His voice is almost a low growl when he asks, “What happened to you?”
Dark spots flicker across my vision as I stare up at him. “You came,” I mumble, trying to keep my eyes from closing for what feels like could be the last time.
He responds, but the words fall into the abyss that beckons me.
And then there is only darkness.
