by K. A. Linde
Kaliana remained strapped where she was, unable to do anything but watch as this all unfolded.
“Why?” Kael laughed. “Because we are to keep Doma magic from resurfacing. We are in charge of fate. And, today, I’m giving in to my fate.”
“Brother,” Edric said, “please. Whatever you think, know that I have always loved you. Our relationship has never been perfect, but you and I are connected.”
Kael reached for the sword at his waist. He removed it from its sheath and admired the steel glinting in the candlelight. A wry smile played on his features. A hint of madness. A glance of desperation.
Then, he shoved it straight through his brother’s heart.
“I know,” he told Edric. “It is our connection that I need right now.”
Edric sputtered, gasping for life. Kaliana couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see. Tears streamed down her cheeks, unbidden. Sobs racked her chest as she watched the end of her husband, the very man she had always believed would rule this land peacefully and in prosperity.
He was now…dead.
And at his brother’s hand.
“Why?” she wheezed, whimpering in pain as her heart constricted.
Kael seemed to be breathing in Edric’s death. His very essence seemed to expand, as if he was sated from the death. Pleased by the outcome.
“Because there is no greater magic than blood.”
“Are you going to kill me, too?” she sniffled.
Kael waved his hand, and she dropped like a stone onto the floor.
“Please,” she pleaded. She didn’t care how pathetic she sounded. “Please don’t kill me, too.”
Kael stared down at her, unseeing, lost to another world.
“For our child,” she begged, admitting the thing she had refused to admit before this moment.
“Our child?” he asked.
“Alessia is yours.”
He grinned. “I know.”
“Spare her. Spare me. She needs a mother.” She prostrated herself before him. She would do anything for her child. Even if she wanted to take up the sword and shove it through his chest. She wanted to show him as much mercy as he had shown Edric.
Oh, Edric!
Another sob hit her fresh at the loss.
Then, Kael bent forward and lifted her face to look at him. “I will spare you and my daughter.”
“Thank…thank you!” she gasped.
“Because you won’t remember any of this.”
Then, her mind went blank, and she fell forward into the pool of blood at Kael’s feet.
“Avoca is gone, Cyrene,” Vera said. “The Creator has taken her home.”
Cyrene shook her head. No. Creator, no! That isn’t possible.
With a mind to bring Avoca back, Cyrene delved deep into her magic. She found that place where her tether with Avoca was. It was gone.
She screamed, aching for that lost place. Why? When she had lost Edric’s bond, she assumed it was because the bond had been fulfilled. She couldn’t lose Avoca’s, too. That meant, there was only Kael left, and that was unacceptable. She had just gotten Avoca. She couldn’t lose her.
Cyrene searched deeper. It had to be there. It had to.
People were reaching for her, speaking to her, but she was lost deep into that well of magic. Deep into that place where she had found her oneness against the Nokkin. She had to find Avoca. She couldn’t endure another death. Not so soon after Maelia and then her own parents.
Only Ahlvie didn’t stop her. He stared into her blank eyes and then reached for her hand. Only he could understand the true depth of her despair. Avoca was the love of his life. Cyrene knew no one could ever compare.
She settled into the snow, linked between Avoca and Ahlvie, and fought for her friend. Maybe she couldn’t heal her. Maybe she had no talent in medicine. But she knew Avoca.
Cyrene knew the way she’d laugh when she let her guard down. And the sharp look she would give when Cyrene talked too much. Or her trained fighting stance when her instincts had gone on high alert. She knew how she’d liked to braid her hair and the way she would hone her ice-white blades. She knew all the little pieces of her heart that belonged to Eldora. Cyrene knew Avoca’s struggle with the idea of becoming queen and the honor she had known it would have been. And, most of all, she knew the feel of her magic. The way they’d linked, creating power that couldn’t exist separately.
That was what she searched for.
That grasp of connection.
That power that linked them.
With a sigh, she felt it.
“Creator,” she whispered, “she’s still here.”
“Cyrene, she’s not,” Vera said gently.
Cyrene didn’t care what she’d said or that Vera knew more about healing than Cyrene ever would. Avoca’s bond was still in place. It was faint, practically nonexistent. If Cyrene hadn’t delved so deep into herself, she might have believed it was completely gone forever. That whatever the Nokkin had done by stripping her magic had really killed her.
Cyrene wrapped her magic around that barely there bond. “I sense it.”
Vera went back to work, using her magic to see what Cyrene meant. She gasped. “I’ve never…I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“What does that mean?” Ahlvie demanded.
“She might be alive, but she is not in this world,” Vera said. “Her body might be of the living, but her mind might never recover.”
Cyrene shook her head. She wouldn’t accept that. “We need to get her somewhere safe. Where do we go?”
Vera turned to Matilde, who nodded. “Onward.”
“Might I remind you that the Pass is blocked?” Basille said, swinging his arm toward the avalanche that had run its course. “Not to mention, we have six people and an unconscious girl and only four horses. We’ll never make it through the Pass at this rate.”
“We’re not going through the Pass,” Matilde said. “We’re going to the Black Mountain.”
“We can’t—” Basille began.
“You will take us there, or so help me Creator,” Cyrene snapped at him.
Whatever he must have seen in her eyes stopped him in his tracks. He huffed and went with Orden to organize the horses. Cyrene stayed with Avoca while the others made a makeshift litter for Avoca in between two of the horses. Orden and Basille each took their own horse while Cyrene and Ahlvie shared, and the twins took the other horse.
The procession back up the mountain was slow-going. There was no path now. They had to make do with Basille’s and Orden’s good instincts. Cyrene could hardly pay attention to what they were doing or how it was being done. Her focus remained on Avoca, making sure she was still alive. Never dropping her magic in fear that Avoca would disappear if she did.
Cyrene had no idea what it would mean if her body was living but her mind was elsewhere. The only thing she could think was if it was like when she had been lost to the blood magic in Fen. They had thought she was dying, but she had been brought back from the brink. She never asked Avoca what the bond had felt like. If she had seemed like this. Or if this was worse. It felt so much worse.
“Here,” Matilde said with glee.
Vera gasped. “The avalanche shifted the Pass.”
“I’ve never been through here,” Basille said uncertainly.
“We have,” Matilde said.
“A long, long time ago,” Vera said, her voice laced with tears.
They continued on. Cyrene didn’t have it in her to ask where they were going. She only thanked the Creator that something was going right. If the path had shifted, then perhaps they could find these caves the twins had mentioned. Perhaps, there, someone could heal whatever was wrong with Avoca.
It was nightfall by the time they reached the first cave. It was enormous. The size of a house that opened up into the mountainside. It was tremendous to think that the snow and ice had obscured this from view for all this time. It was almost as if it had been done on purpose.
Cyrene’s heart leaped at the
thought. They had made it. They had actually made it. The lost ones had to be here. The piece of the puzzle that had eluded her thus far. The place Serafina had claimed she had to be to master her magic and win this long-fated war.
Their horses clattered against the stone as Matilde and Vera directed them through the cave. Once they were deep enough, they lit their Doma Fire and sent it down the tunnels, lighting lanterns bracketed on the wall. It was clear it was not the first time they had done it.
Cyrene’s anticipation only grew as they moved deeper into the dragons’ lair. She didn’t know what to expect to find. A firedrake’s gold hoard. Jewels and treasure beyond comprehension. Glittering scales and fire-breathing horrors as big as the walls they were walking through. Her imagination ran off with her.
They entered an enormous room with a ceiling raised to the heavens, and Matilde and Vera stopped.
“They should be here,” Vera whispered.
“Can they be somewhere else?” Cyrene asked.
Matilde frowned. “Possibly.”
“There’s something at the end of the room,” Ahlvie said.
They all took their horses across the giant room, and as they crossed the space, Cyrene realized that it appeared to be a training facility. All sorts of weapons were hanging on the walls—swords, knives, maces, and more. Chain mail and leather gear was nearby. And all manner of other objects she had never seen in use.
But, when they found what Ahlvie had pointed out, her blood went cold. This couldn’t be right. There was a man lying in a glass case on top of a slab of granite, fast asleep.
Matilde dismounted, a choked sob catching in her throat. “Is that…”
“Creator,” Vera whispered.
“What?” Orden asked. “Who is it?”
Matilde lifted the glass case, and it eased open on rusted hinges that squeaked and shrieked. She gently placed her hand over the man’s heart and finally let the tears fall down her cheeks. “Mikel.”
Cyrene and Ahlvie shared a glance. The moment felt too intimate for anyone else to watch it.
“You know him?” Basille asked obviously.
“He was…is my husband,” Matilde said. “I thought he’d died two thousand years ago after the dragons disappeared from Emporia.”
Cyrene’s mouth fell open. Matilde was married? She had thought for so long that her husband was dead, yet he was here all along…sleeping?
“Can you wake him?” Cyrene asked. She hoped for Avoca’s sake that it was possible.
Matilde shuddered, and Vera went to her. They stood on either end of him and then breathed their magic into him. The rest of them dismounted, eager to find out what would happen. A few seconds passed before Mikel coughed and coughed. Then, he opened his stunning green eyes and smiled.
“It took you long enough, Mati.”
“Mikel,” Matilde said, collapsing over him.
“There, there, love. It’s all right. I’m here.” He slowly eased up and smiled at Vera. “Sister,” he said with a nod.
She returned it with tears streaming down her face. “Brother.”
Then, his eyes found Cyrene. “Sera, I thought you would never come. We all feared that Viktor would end up wooing you after all.”
Cyrene opened and closed her mouth.
“I am not Serafina,” Cyrene said.
Mikel’s brows furrowed. “I don’t…understand.”
“Mikel, darling, how long do you think you were under the sleeping spell?” Matilde asked.
“Not long,” Mikel said. “Only a couple of months. Long enough for the dragons to get away while they could.”
“No, my love,” Matilde whispered.
“What?” Mikel asked.
“Serafina was murdered by Viktor two thousand years ago,” Vera told him. “Magic fell, as was predicted. We have been in hiding. The mountains have been covered. No one has been in or out. No one has seen a dragon since.”
Mikel stared at them, stunned. His honey-colored skin paled, and his dark brows rose and then fell and then scrunched together. He seemed to be taking it all in.
“Two thousand years,” he repeated.
“Yes,” Matilde told him. “And this is Cyrene. The one from the prophecy.”
“The prophecy,” he said, dazed.
“But…where are the dragons?” Cyrene asked. “We came all the way across the world for this. I need them to help me bring back my friend. She’s lost. And I need…I was told I needed the dragons.”
Mikel’s eyes seemed to clear, and then he shook his head. “I’m sorry that you came all this way. But there are no dragons here or…anywhere in Emporia. I cannot help you.”
“No!” she shouted, unable to control herself. “We were sent here! The dragons have to be here. We should check the rooms. We should look everywhere. They have to be here. They have to help Avoca.” Her voice quavered on the last word.
“They left. All of them. You can check, but they’re gone. I volunteered to stay behind to speak for them.”
Cyrene cursed and flung her arms wide. “Then, what was the point? Why would Serafina send me to find the dragons to save the world if there were no dragons?”
“Serafina sent you?” Mikel asked, glancing at Matilde.
“She is training in spirit. She can cross the divide.”
“Incredible,” he whispered. “When have we ever had someone with such talents?”
“We’re not sure,” Vera said. “Cyrene is…extraordinary.”
“Well, if Sera said the dragons would help, it can only be because of the Society,” Mikel guessed.
“But the Society doesn’t exist anymore,” Vera said. “We three are the last of its kind. Without dragons in Emporia, the ancient dragon society is no more.”
“There might not be any in Emporia but perhaps…elsewhere,” Mikel said.
“You aren’t suggesting…” Matilde said.
“I will do anything to right these wrongs,” Cyrene said vehemently. “Anything to save Avoca.”
“But will you risk Alandria?” Mikel asked with an arched eyebrow.
Cyrene didn’t care what or who Alandria was. She would stop at nothing to do what needed to be done.
Her world might be broken.
It might have problems and tyrannical leaders and blood magic.
It might have taken one friend and attempted to take another.
But she wouldn’t let it fall to the darkness.
She might not have wanted the burden on her shoulders. She might have once wished for a quiet life. But she would go to the ends of the earth and back to save her friends.
“Bring it,” she swore.
To Be Continued…
Cyrene’s dark times are a testament to finding your own inner strength. Our actions and, more importantly, our failures shape us. They mold us into the hero that we need to become. They’re not easy. They make you second-guess yourself. They make you question everything. But, when you come out on the other side, you’re stronger. You can tell the world to, Bring it, just like Cyrene.
So, I’ll start by thanking the darkness that I dealt with to get to this place. And the light at the end of the tunnel that pulled me out.
Especially the friends who were there through it all in this book—Anjee, Rebecca K, Rebecca G, and Katie. All the times I had to tell you that I’m killing someone else today and not thinking me totally insane. For loving my bad boys and Cyrene more than anything else. Also, to Robin for letting me kill you off.
As always, thanks to Sarah Hansen at Okay Creations for the stunning cover. Lauren Perry at Perrywinkle Photography for the picture of Cyrene on the cover. It completely captures her coming into her own. Jovana Shirley at Unforeseen Editing for last-minute edits and the beautiful formatting of the interior! Also, my agent, Kimberly Brower, for loving everything I write, even when I come up with crazy ideas. For being 100% in my corner, no matter what. Danielle Sanches, my amazing publicist, who probably loved this series first and sends me grabby hands gifs as I
go. KP Simmon, for your unfailing guidance and joy.
To all the author friends who have supported this series with me and who keep me going year after year—Jillian Dodd, Jenn Sterling, Wendy Higgins, Susan Dennard, AL Jackson, SC Stephens, Gennifer Albin, Bethany Hagen, and Molly McAdams.
To my husband, Joel, who listens to all my insane ideas and doesn’t think me any crazier than I am. For long walks to help me plot and for believing in Cyrene. And my two writing puppies—Riker and Lucy. All the love. ♥
K.A. Linde is the USA Today bestselling author of more than twenty novels. The Ascension series is her first venture into fantasy. She grew up as a military brat and attended the University of Georgia where she obtained a master’s in political science. She works full-time as an author and loves Disney movies, binge-watching Supernatural, and Star Wars.
She currently lives in Lubbock, Texas, with her husband and two super-adorable puppies. She does not encourage anyone under the age of eighteen to read her adult novels.
Visit her online at www.kalinde.com and on Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram @authorkalinde.
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