Separated once more, we circled each other warily. "You shouldn't play games you can't win, puppy," she hissed, flecks of saliva flying from her mouth. Even through her horrible transformation, there was something familiar in her face—an expression of cruelty her rotting flesh and snarled-shut eyes couldn't conceal. "I think it's time for you to roll over and play dead."
She lunged. I dodged. Anger blazed within me, but instead of a distraction, it only heightened my concentration. I was the edge of a blade, sharp and ready to slice into her at every angle. "I hope your ears work better than your eyes," I growled, dropping to all fours and crouching low, "because I think I hear birdsong."
The taunting worked. Undead Luciana was just as easily enraged as the human Luciana had been. She surged toward me, and this time, I met her charge. Fire raked down my side as her claws caught the edge of my belly, but I didn't let her escape. I sank my teeth into her shoulder, dragging her down onto the ground. We twisted—her in search of escape, me in search of an opening. My muzzle was already slick and matted with foul spurts of her blood, but my bite wasn't high enough. I needed her throat.
I tried to sink my teeth into her neck. When I loosened my hold, she took advantage, using her weight to flip me onto my back. I snarled, bringing up my back paws to protect my belly and baring my fangs, but hers were always there to counter them. Our teeth clashed together until our lips were cut and bleeding, but I couldn't break past her guard. When she sliced into my already-wounded shoulder, driving a spike of pain through my chest, I faltered. My head spun, and my vision blurred.
I slipped, weakening, as though I was treading through cloudy water. My lungs wouldn't take in air, and my limp muscles refused to respond. Somewhere in my swimming panic, I realized what was happening—Luciana's toxic bite was starting to take hold. Her sweet, rotting smell clogged my throat, and my heart pumped frantically.
No. Not like this. I'm not dying on my back underneath her. Larna needs me. A fresh surge of energy flooded through me, hot and desperate, clearing my foggy head. I refused to let Luciana end me this way. I refused to let her end me at all. She had destroyed my life once before, but I had more to lose now and more to live for. I would not let her break me.
I didn't go for her throat. Instead, I fastened my teeth onto her right arm, shaking my head with a swift jerk and snap. My jaws crunched to the bone, and Luciana's wounded howl vibrated through me. I kicked with my back paws, throwing her onto her back and diving in for her left side. These were the hands that slapped me, pulled my hair, the arms that caged me against walls and bookcases. I wanted to break them, to rip them off. My second bite caused another howl and more broken bones.
Without the use of her arms, Luciana had to rely on her teeth. She fought, shrieking and spitting, but injured as she was, it wasn't a fair fight. I didn't care. Now, she was the one with nowhere to run. Dark spots started floating around the edges of my eyes, but I shook them off, struggling to focus for a few more seconds. Her ridged throat throbbed, pulsing with the false heartbeat Mogra had given her, and I didn't hesitate. I dug in, piercing and ripping with all my might.
It was over after a few beating twitches. Her life poured into my mouth in bitter streams of black blood. When she no longer moved, I let go and spat, staring down at my kill. Part of me expected her to rise again, to lunge at me, but there was only an eerie stillness. The front of her throat was gone, ripped open, and a still, dark pool had gathered under the upper half of her body.
I rolled off of her corpse, shivering too hard to walk even on all fours, and dragged myself away, toward the place where Larna had collapsed. Somewhere through the haze of pain and receding fear, I could see her side rising and falling, although her pelt streamed with blood. She'll live, I told myself as I continued crawling toward her. She has to. I have to. Tuathe.
The world continued to swirl and tilt, and as I reached her, I could feel a blanket of darkness sliding over me. In the end, I had to surrender. I rested my chin on one of her haunches, breathing in her scent beneath the stench of death and gore and burning torches. My eyes closed, and the last thing I heard before nothingness swallowed me whole was the ragged, shallow sound of her breathing and the slowing thud of our hearts.
Chapter Eight
Taken from the diary of Lady Eleanor Kingsclere
I GAZED OUT OVER Kalmarin, taking in the city from atop the battlements in flashes of brilliant fire. Dragons soared overhead, scorching the ground with whirling columns of flame, and countless creatures scurried below, crawling amidst a sea of torches. Smoke filled the air, and I had to hold my own torch further away to breathe. I suspected that when it cleared, there wouldn't be much of a city left for the survivors to claim.
Sadly, I glanced at Neva. She stood a foot away, with Belle's arm around her shoulder and one of the dwellyn holding her hand. They watched Kalmarin burn with her, and my heart ached. Whatever fear and grief I was feeling—for my friends fighting for their lives below, for the destruction of a city I had never known, it must have been even worse for her. Kalmarin was her home. I couldn't even imagine what it would have been like to watch Sandleford burn to the ground, especially as a child.
"How are you doing?" I asked, tucking myself beneath Belle's other arm.
"This is because of me," Neva murmured, staring at me with brimming eyes. "If Umbra didn't need me, she wouldn't have taken over. And if she hadn't taken over, this war wouldn't even be happening."
"This isn't because of you at all." Belle gave Neva a reassuring squeeze. "You can't blame yourself."
"But people are going to die. I can feel them dying. And even though I want to, I can't bring them back. Then I wouldn't be any better than them."
My heart sank like a stone. I could hear the heaviness in her words, the responsibility—a burden no child should have to carry. "They aren't dying for you," I told her. "They're fighting. They're fighting because they want to keep Amendyr safe. That's why we're all here."
"What about you?" Neva said. "You don't live here. You could have gone back to Seria once we found the dwellyn or once you brought me to Jett Bahari's camp. Why did you stay?"
"Because people we cared about needed us," I told her. "Cate and Larna, Ailynn and Raisa, and you, too."
For a moment, Neva's face brightened. Her cheeks dimpled, and she looked her age again as she smiled. "Me?"
Belle nodded. "Of course. You didn't think you could get rid of us, did you?"
Neva opened her mouth to speak, but a sharp, baying howl covered her words. We peered down over the edge of the wall in surprise. "What was that?" Lok asked, hurrying over from where she had been conversing with the other dwellyn. "It sounded close."
Belle pulled away, drawing her sword, but Neva shook her head. "No, it's all right. He's not going to hurt us."
I held my torch high, and I was able to make out the hulking form of a shadowkin sitting at the base of the wall. He peered up at us, his muzzle pointed into the air. "Stinky?" I said, shaking my head. "How did he get here?"
He gave an urgent bark of warning, placing his paws against the wall, but he was too large to climb. A strange feeling crept over me, a shuddering, burning sensation that crawled over my skin and ate into my flesh. It was familiar at once, and I gasped in surprise and pain. The same blistering sensation had come over me before, whenever I had been in the presence of Luciana and the sorcerer's chain. "Belle," I said, touching her arm. "Something's wrong. I think—"
The dwellyn surrounded us, forming a circle and drawing their blades. Something approached out of the darkness, stalking across the wall, and as the flames spiraling overhead swelled, I saw the figure clearly. She was tall and blonde, with a strange black glow pulsing from her pale skin. A crown of gold was perched atop her head, and just looking at her made my eyes ache. Magic gathered and billowed around her in a cloud, and she clutched a mid-sized mirror in her hands, thin fingers curled around its filigreed edges. The glass was turned toward us, rippling like the surface of a deep,
bottomless pond, and it seemed to shine with its own black light.
Beside me, Neva gasped. She stiffened, trembling in fear, and I placed myself in front of her. She didn't need to explain who this woman was.
"It took me long enough to find you," the Queen said, ignoring us. Her entire focus was on Neva, and her voice sounded like an arching phrase of music. "But I suppose if you need something done right, it's best to do it yourself."
"Get away from her!" Lok brandished her sword, tusks jutting out in anger. "You've tortured this poor girl enough."
"Torture? No. I simply need her. My master hungers."
The hiss of those words was too much for Ulig. He growled, swinging his arm forward, and the dwellyn changed formation. They broke their circle and charged forward across the battlements, blades bared, forming an arrow with him at their head. The Queen, however, cared little for their display of courage. The dwellyn only made it a few steps before she waved her hand carelessly in their direction. The mirror glowed, her palm glowing along with it, and the bored gesture froze the dwellyn in place. In the eerie light, I could see Ulig's eyes rolling in his head, but despite his fear, he and the others couldn't move.
"You see the power my master bestows" the Queen said, not speaking to the dwellyn, but to Neva. "I am his hand, and his power flows through me." She extended an arm, slender fingers curling, beckoning. "Come to me, child. If you do, I have no reason to hurt your friends."
I wrapped my arm around Neva, shielding her from the Queen's gaze. Without the dwellyn, only Belle and I stood between her and the ravenous light of the mirror. "And what does your master want with her?" I asked, stalling for time. "What possible use could he have for a child? If he's as powerful as you say, why does he need her?"
For a moment, the Queen's beautiful mouth pulled into an angry snarl. It was obvious I had touched upon a sore spot. Instead of answering me, she glared at her own ghostly reflection in the black mirror. "Master, why do you need her? You know that I could—"
The mirror flashed, cutting off her question, and a look of intense pain transformed her face. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream, and her skin tightened around her high cheekbones and the sockets of her eyes, making her look more like a skull than a beautiful woman. A deep, many-layered voice boomed from the mirror, sending lances of pain through my very bones.
"You do not question. You serve."
I froze, blood turning cold with recognition. The voice had come not from the Queen, but from within the mirror itself. I had heard the same voice speak to me in my dreams, coming from within a blazing golden eye. There was no doubt in my mind this was Umbra—or whatever remained of him. This was the wizard who had murdered Feradith's hatchling and drained its magic. This was the Ariada who had reached out through the ages to possess Luciana and Mogra and the Queen.
As quickly as it had begun, the torture ended. The Queen seemed to come back to herself, although her white face was covered in a fresh sheen of dripping sweat. "Come," she said to Neva again, this time in a voice that did not sound quite so thick with honey, but sharp-edged with fear. "It will be worse for you if you don't."
I tried to pull Neva further away from the Queen and the mirror, but she slipped from my grasp and stepped forward, away from our protection. Belle and I both began to rush after her at once, but the Queen waved her hand again. My feet clung to the ground, and a rush of magic enveloped my limbs, blazing hot and ice cold at the same time. My skin screamed, and when I tried to jerk, I found that my joints were locked into place. Tears of helpless fury stung in my eyes, and beside me, I heard the crash of Belle's sword clattering to the ground.
Neva glanced at us, fear painted clearly on her face. She turned back to the Queen. "Will you really leave them alone?" she asked, chin held high despite her shaking. "Do you promise to let them all live if I come with you?"
The Queen’s ruby lips curled into a smile. She was her confident self again, once more under the mirror's sway. "Yes. Just come and look into the mirror. Your companions will not be harmed."
"Neva, no," Ulig grunted in a choked voice. He hadn't moved an inch, but apparently he could still speak. "Run."
"He's right," Belladonna said through gritted teeth. "She's alone. Run down to Stinky."
"She isn't alone," Neva said, staring past the Queen into the darkness beyond. Other shapes emerged from the shadows, stalking across the battlements toward us—kerak and wyr, more than we could count. Their eyes flashed with the mirror's light, and their jaws dripped as they waited. "I can only protect you from the undead. The wyr won't listen to me."
"Don't do this," I pleaded. "Go while you can. We'll be—"
I didn't get the chance to lie and say “all right.” Neva shook her head. "No. I won't let her hurt my family again. I can't." She looked back over her shoulder, and I saw her lower lip tremble. "You're all I have left."
"A wise choice," the mirror said. Each word was a hot poker in my ears, but I couldn't scream. "Step forward and gaze into the mirror. Look into my eyes."
Neva stepped forward, but she halted again as the Queen let loose a shriek of rage. "Master!" she cried, turning the mirror and staring down into it herself. "You promised me the girl's body! You said I would live forever, that I could—"
"Your service was appreciated, but it is no longer needed. I have found my host."
The mirror floated free of the Queen's hands, hovering under its own power. She stumbled back in horror, wearing a twisted mask of betrayal, but even that soon cracked around the edges. The magical light shining from her became unbearably bright, and her skin split. She brought her hands to her once beautiful face, screaming, but it was too late. She fell to her knees, and then lower still as her body began to disintegrate. Pieces of her crumbled away, turning to dust and ash and floating toward the mirror. They disappeared into its surface and the glow within flared stronger.
Once nothing remained of the Queen but her crumpled clothes, the mirror tilted, fixing on Neva once more. "Look at me, Kira'baas. With your body and your power, I will return to flesh and raise an army of the dead even greater than the one that useless witch shaped for me."
Neva gasped, stepping back. "No. That wasn't part of the deal. She said—"
"She is dead. You are mine."
The mirror rippled, and a beam of its light fixed on Neva's face. She froze, and her skin crawled with the same unearthly light that had pulsed from the Queen before. Neva’s body jerked in sick spasms, and she floated off the ground, moving closer and closer to the mirror.
All at once, the pulsing power around us seemed to snap. The burning ice vanished, and I could move again. The dwellyn regained the use of their bodies as well, and Belle dove for the ground in an attempt to retrieve her sword.
"No!" Ulig charged forward again, and the rest of the dwellyn followed. Their blades sliced through the night, but Umbra's creatures stopped them. Kerak and wyr flooded over the battlements, surrounding us. Neva remained a few feet away as they fought, painfully close, but impossibly far away
"Ellie, move!" I shook out of my stupor when I felt Belle tug at my arm. "Help me get to Neva."
A screech sounded beside us, and she whirled around, plunging her sword through a kerak's chest. Its jaws snapped, inches away from her face, and I swung my torch, setting its skin ablaze. It hissed, disintegrating to ash, and the two of us ran. Together, we slashed and burned our way through the horde. I whipped my torch around wildly, not even sure what I was doing, but I didn't care. My eyes remained fixed on Neva.
Something snarled beside me, and I saw a hulking, fanged beast lunge from my left, but Lok was there, her blade glinting. The wyr fell, leaving a little more of the path clear, and she gestured forward. "Go! Ellie, grab Neva. Belle, your sword—"
Another kerak lunged, and Lok turned to face it. We ran, drawing closer. Four steps, three, two. I grabbed Neva, dragging her back to the ground and out of the mirror's light, but as soon as my fingers circled her wrist, searing magic crawled a
long my arm. My hand began to burn, and I screamed, but I didn't let go. I let the magic eat at me, holding her tight. Images flashed before me—spinning columns of dragonfire and searching golden eyes and a smoking field of bodies stretched as far as I could see. My head pounded.
"Let the girl go," the voice said, driving through my skull like a spike. "She belongs to me now."
I didn't let go.
"Let the girl go, or I will show you pain beyond imagining."
I didn't let go.
"Let the girl go. You cannot save her. You cannot even save yourself."
I didn't let go. Tears streamed down my face. Fire ate into my skin. My mind fogged with pain, but I didn't let go.
"Ellie!"
I blinked my stinging eyes, turning toward her voice, and somewhere through the haze, I saw Belle. She stood before the mirror, brandishing her sword.
"Break it," I shouted, the words slicing up through my throat.
Belle drew her arm back, and she drove her blade into the mirror. A loud crack echoed around us, splitting the air, followed by a rumbling roar. The wall beneath us trembled, and more black beams of light poured from the mirror's surface, lighting the sky above. I turned away, dropping my torch and folding Neva into the safety of my arms. I held her tight, shielding her with my body until the great shuddering stopped.
When I opened my eyes again, the light had disappeared, and the air was filled with ash. The kerak were gone, dissolved into nothing. The wyr standing atop the wall seemed stunned, gazing around in confusion. Once they seemed to realize where they were, they ran, scattering in what seemed like fear. The dwellyn no longer had to defend themselves, and Belle stood before the shattered remains of the mirror, sword hanging loosely from her hand. She turned toward me, her expression both fearful and relieved.
"Is it over?" she asked, with uncertain hope.
I blinked, head still swimming. The mirror truly seemed broken, and I could no longer feel Umbra's presence. "I think so," I said, shaking my head. "Neva? Are you all right?"
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