Willing Sacrifice

by Shannon K. Butcher

  His heart cracked open and bled at the mere thought. To never talk to her again? Never hold her again? Impossible. “No. I can’t do that either.”

  “There is one other option.”

  “Name it.”

  The waves in Brenya’s stormy eyes kicked up, seething with power as she held his gaze. “I knew it would come to this moment. I have always known.”

  “Just spit it out.”

  A truly frightening ripple of power seeped out of her, chilling Torr to the bone.

  She lifted a bent finger toward him. “You, young Theronai, will become human.”

  Chapter 30

  Grace was just about to walk into Brenya’s hut when she heard the woman utter the statement. You, young Theronai, will become human.

  Shock hit her hard, freezing her in place.

  Torr’s voice echoed that shock. “Is that even possible?”

  “For me? Yes. You are Theronai. My design. I can unmake the parts of you that are mine, leaving behind the remnants of humanity within you.”

  “But if I was human, how would I protect Grace?”

  “How do any human men protect their women?”

  “But the Synestryn, my vows . . .”

  “Your vows were made to my kind. Weakened as you would be, you would no longer be able to fulfill them. I would release the magic binding you to your will and rid you and Grace both of all traces of Athanasian blood. It would not be pleasant, but it would allow you to live out the rest of your short lives together.”

  Say no, say no, Grace silently chanted in her head.

  “The Synestryn wouldn’t be able to smell her blood?” he asked, his tone thoughtful, as though he was actually considering it.

  “Or yours. You could live as you choose. Love each other. Have children.”

  “What about the war?”

  “No longer your concern. You would no longer have any memories tying you to your old life. You and Grace would believe you were normal, simple humans, with small, insignificant lives.”

  “I’d lose my friends.”

  “But you would have Grace.”

  “Done,” he said, far too fast. “I’ll guard your people here until you come back, and then you’ll make me human.”

  “But first you must destroy the portal. Once that is done and you have proven yourself worthy, only then will we discuss a deal.”

  “Give me the crystals and stones. I’ll leave tonight.”

  “No. You will guard the village tonight. I will rest.”

  “Whatever you need, Brenya. I’ll make sure it’s yours.”

  “Then leave me to sleep.”

  Grace stepped behind the door just as it swung open. Torr hurried away, drawing his sword as he went. His step was lighter, his stride more buoyant.

  He was happy. He’d just agreed to give up his powers for her—to become weak like her—and he was happy.

  Suddenly the image of him lying in his bed at Dabyr hit her. He’d been so helpless, so weak. He’d been angry, frustrated. Maybe he didn’t remember how much pain his helplessness had caused him—how he ached to be out there with his brothers fighting, how he felt responsible for every one of them who fell because he’d been unable to be at their side—but she did. She remembered every second of it. She saw him die inside a little more each day.

  Some things are better left forgotten.

  She wouldn’t let him do that to himself again. She couldn’t stand watching him suffer like that. He had no idea what it meant to be a human—to be weak and fragile.

  She would not let him sacrifice his life for her. He was too important—too vital to the survival of the people she loved. And even if he wasn’t, she still wouldn’t let him do this. She loved him too much.

  There was only one sure way he would give up on her. She knew that now.

  She took a few deep breaths to calm her nerves and still her shaking hands. When she was steady enough, she pasted a smile on her face and walked into Brenya’s hut, armed with the excuse of checking on her before bed.

  The woman was already asleep. She looked so old, so frail. Her head was tilted back against the chair, and her mouth hung open. There was no regal beauty in her now—only fatigue and age.

  The box of crystals sat on the table in front of her. Next to it was a small leather bag. Grace tiptoed across the room and picked up the box. It was chilly in her fingers, and heavier than she remembered.

  She opened the lid and saw that the crystals were still inside. All she had to do now was put them to good use—two birds with one stone. Or crystal, in this case.

  She would take out the portal, and Torr’s reason to destroy his life, all at once.

  There would be no reason for him to become human if she was dead.

  • • •

  Brenya opened her eyes as Grace left. She had done all she could for the young woman. The rest was in Grace’s hands.

  And Torr’s.

  Brenya had seen the future play out in two ways, and even she could not tell which one was more likely. All she knew was that both futures ended in Grace’s death.

  Chapter 31

  It took Grace most of the night to reach the place where Torr had seen the Masons building the portal.

  A full moon hung heavy in the sky—so much closer and brighter than the one on Earth. It reminded her of just how far away from home she was, and how many lives were at stake if she failed here.

  She was acutely aware of her humanity as she crept around to get a better view of the site. Each noise she made felt like a siren, and every time the moon hit her skin, she was sure the glow would alert the Hunters that stood guard over the giant stone portal.

  A giant glass man—a Warden—stood in front of the place where the Masons hammered. Each clink of their chisels made her skin crawl, the way fingernails on a chalkboard did. The Warden was as still as a statue, but the knowledge that Brenya had shoved into her head warned her that if she was spotted, that creature would fly into action and kill her.

  As soon as it was discovered that she’d left the village, Torr would come after her. She didn’t doubt it for a second. Before he did, she needed this job to be done.

  The markings in the stone were nearly complete. They looked just like the ones on the Sentinel Stone in the village, only with one single curving line incomplete.

  Grace had spent hours running her finger over the mark, wondering what it meant and how it worked. All she knew was that when it started to glow, it was time for her to back away, because someone—or something—was coming through.

  Once the last line was finished, the Masons would leave and she would make her move.

  The progress seemed to creep along. Each hour that passed wore on her nerves, drawing them tighter.

  Every few minutes, she would edge a few feet closer to where she needed to be. The box of crystals was a cold, heavy weight in her bag, and the knowledge of how to use them was burning in her mind.

  Finally, after what seemed like half an eternity, the Masons’ hammering stopped.

  They lifted their hands in unison, and the markings began to glow. Grace could feel some kind of energy pouring out of the stone. It rippled over her skin, making the fine hairs rise and shudder.

  A moment later, a line of light split the night. The Masons stepped through, disappearing. She saw a brief flash of sunlight and blue sky.

  Earth. Home.

  The light winked out.

  She was blinded for a second while her eyes readjusted to the moonlight. By the time she was able to see again, the Warden had moved. It was at the stone, its giant clear hand pressed over the carved markings.

  It did nothing for several minutes, as if waiting for something.

  Grace had no idea what, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be good.

  She moved into position, skirting through the woods as fast and silently as she could. She tried to stay out of sight but kept veering back close enough to make sure nothing at the portal had changed.


  When she’d made it about halfway to her final destination, something had.

  Through the Warden’s body, she could see the rune light up again, only this time the glow was different. Darker.

  Knowledge appeared in her head—thanks to Brenya’s gift.

  Grace couldn’t wait any longer. If she was going to destroy the portal stone, it was now or never.

  Brenya’s knowledge had shown her how to use the crystals. They had to be heated. Grace had prepared for this moment, wrapping one of the pebbles she used to start a fire in kindling and rough fabric. As soon as she crushed the fire pebble, the whole thing would ignite. There was a little pocket in the cloth just the right size to hold the crystals. They would be right against the flame. She tucked them inside and raced into the clearing.

  The Warden saw her immediately, but her momentum carried her forward before he had time to reach her. She slammed the bundle of kindling against the base of the portal stone, crushing the fire pebble. There was a crack, a pop, then the whole dry bundle erupted in fire.

  The flaming ball fell to the ground, right where it needed to be, at the base of the stone. Yellow flames swiftly turned a vibrant cobalt blue as the fire spread to the crystals.

  The Warden shifted. An enormous burst of pain landed against the side of her head. She flew through the air, and it was only after she landed that she realized the Warden had hit her.

  Blood trickled down her cheek. She couldn’t quite figure out what was going on, but she knew there was something important about the blue fire blazing next to that big rock. She couldn’t let it go out.

  The Warden looked at the blaze, then her, then back. It seemed to be trying to make up its mind about which was the bigger threat.

  It must have decided she was weak, because it turned its back on her to put out the fire.

  Grace shoved herself up and charged. A small sword appeared in her hand, though she couldn’t remember how it got there.

  She screamed as she ran. The blade slid off the hard, slick skin of the Warden, but at least she had its attention.

  It turned. A ball of blue flame bloomed on the other side of its body. There was some kind of explosion, but she didn’t see it or hear it. Instead, it spread over her skin, through her body, vibrating her bones as it passed.

  The light coming from the symbol carved into the stone went out. The rune turned black, and the rock began to crumble away.

  The blue light from the crystals grew brighter until it was nearly blinding. The Warden’s body seemed to catch that light and hold it for a split second too long.

  The image of Christmas lights and dangling plastic icicles popped into her head.

  A moment later, the blue blaze from the crystals winked out, its magic complete.

  All around her, the leaves turned black and shriveled. Branches began to fall with dry, brittle crashes. Inside, the wood had turned to ash.

  Her fingers burned like they’d been lit on fire, and they, too, started to blacken.

  Whatever magic those crystals used to destroy the stone, it was killing everything else in the area, too. Including her.

  The flames were gone, but the damage was already done.

  The Warden saw that it was too late. It opened its mouth, letting out a scream that sounded like wind chimes in a blender. Its face twisted with rage. It turned to her, lifted a crystalline sword, gripped it in both hands, and swung it right at her head.

  There was nothing she could do to avoid it. She was too close, too dizzy, too weak. She couldn’t dodge or run—not with the reach the Warden had on her. And even if she could get away, the magical radiation she’d been exposed to wouldn’t let her get far.

  An odd kind of surreal calm swept over her as she realized that this was how she died. This was how she set Torr free.

  Chapter 32

  Torr knew the second he saw that the box of crystals was missing. He knew what had happened. There wasn’t a scrap of doubt in his mind.

  Grace had decided to risk her life to save everyone else.

  “You are too late, young Theronai,” said Brenya from the doorway of her hut. “Grace is already gone, her choice—her willing sacrifice—complete.”

  Like hell it was.

  He grabbed Brenya’s rough clothes and dragged her to her feet with a hard shake. “Send me to her. Teleport me there.”

  “Why? Her choice has been made. She has freed you.”

  “I don’t want to be free. Not from her.”

  “I will demand payment for this, young Theronai.”

  “Anything you want. I vow it.”

  She stared at him for too long, each second ticking by like an eternity. “I accept.”

  The weight of such an open-ended vow nearly crushed him. He could hardly breathe. His skin was so heavy he thought it might peel from his bones. A strangled scream erupted from his chest. He clamped his lips shut over the noise to save what little breath he had left.

  “Gather yourself,” ordered Brenya.

  With that command came a sense of relief. The weight dissipated, and the pain started to fade.

  Something small and heavy was shoved into his hands. He clutched it, willing to carry whatever she gave him. It took him a moment to realize it was the bag of stones she’d made him.

  “Draw your hammer, warrior. I am certain you will have need of it.”

  He shoved the stones into his pocket and did as she ordered. After a few rapid blinks, his vision cleared enough for him to see the fine line of light forming in front of him.

  Brenya gave him a hard shove, and when he stepped forward, his foot met soft ground. The air smelled different, colder. He could hear a terrified sob.

  Grace.

  He lifted his hammer as the light from Brenya’s portal faded. Across the clearing, he could see a Warden pull back its sword. Through its body he saw a warped vision of Grace on her knees.

  All around them, the forest rained down blackened leaves. Charred branches fell, spilling piles of ash.

  He had no idea what had happened, but the whole place was falling down around them.

  If you can see the crystals’ blue fire, you are already too late. It will destroy all in its reach.

  The portal stone was charred, black and crumbling. The magic of the crystals had already been activated. The blue fire had already gone out.

  A sickening feeling bloomed in the pit of Torr’s stomach. He prayed he was wrong—that Grace had taken cover and hadn’t been in reach of the blast.

  Across the clearing, the Warden screamed in rage. It lifted its blade, clearly intending to kill her.

  Her hands flew up in front of her face, as if she could stop it.

  A surge of angry denial filled Torr. No one was taking his Grace away. Not ever again.

  He ripped a stone from his pocket. The rest of the stones spilled onto the ground, but there was no time to pick them up. He spit on the one in his hand.

  The Warden appeared in front of him, summoned away from Grace. Its blade came down only inches from his head. He lifted his hammer to shield himself from the blow.

  “Run, Grace!” he shouted.

  From the corner of his eye, he saw her push to her feet. She wobbled heavily, as if she were drunk. She took only two steps before she stumbled and caught herself on the crumbling remains of the portal stone.

  Something was definitely wrong with her. He prayed it was a blow to the head and not the magical radiation making her sway.

  . . . already too late.

  Torr used a series of powerful moves to disengage his hammer from the Warden’s blade. When the brief opening to step back came, he took it and ran.

  He could feel the ground shake with each heavy step of the crystalline warrior hard on his heels. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay ahead of it for long, but his intent was only to get it away from Grace—out of sight of her so she was no longer a target.

  Finally, when the trees closed in around them, he turned and faced his opponent.


  Chapter 33

  A pair of sleek black Hunters stalked into the clearing.

  Grace was sure that they would kill her on sight, but instead, they took one look at her, then dismissed her as unimportant.

  Either that, or they knew she was already dead.

  She could feel her insides dying, feel the rapid decay of her flesh. The charred appearance along her fingertips was creeping upward, burning hot for only a second before her nerves were consumed.

  She didn’t have long. Torr was already fighting the Warden—she could hear the battle being waged only a few yards inside the trees—and now two Hunters were closing in for the kill as well. She had to do something, but throwing herself in front of those Hunters was only going to slow them down for half a second.

  Knowledge of the landscape came to her easily, as if she’d roamed every inch of the surrounding area for years. There was a place not far from here—one that might give Torr a fighting chance to survive.

  She gathered a handful of the stones he’d dropped and ran as fast as her burning body would carry her. She knew exactly what the stones could do, even though she’d never seen them before. The knowledge was familiar, tinged with Brenya’s regal dominance and wisdom.

  Another mental gift, no doubt.

  A tree branch slammed into Grace’s arm. She heard the bone crack, felt the pain of the break sear along her spine.

  She’d learned at the hands of her stepfather how to ignore pain, how to keep moving with broken bones so she could escape the next blow. She used every bit of skill she had now to push forward and distance herself from the agony crawling through her body.

  The ground pitched up, the steep angle nearly slowing her to a stop. The sound of battle was softer now, but the impact of steel on glass was an unmistakable chime in the distance.

  Each crawling step was harder than the last. Her left arm was useless. Something in her foot cracked, giving her a burst of pain she couldn’t ignore.

  Behind her, a Hunter let out a scream that cut off far too soon. Torr had killed it with that huge hammer he wielded.