by Lynette Noni
It sounded as if it physically hurt him to say Niyx’s name, let alone act like he was in the same room. Despite everything she was about to face, Alex had to fight against a twitch of a smile.
“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” she told them. “And we’ll explain everything then.”
With that promise, Alex pushed Niyx out of the tent, told Soraya where they were going—not that the wolf wouldn’t have just appeared by her side the moment they arrived—and was swept away as Niyx activated the Valispath around them, directing them straight to Graevale.
Thirty-Two
Alex was covered in blood.
It was splattered on her arms, her legs, her chest, even her face—silver and red blood, coating her from head to toe. Black blood from the Shadow Walkers. White blood from the Dayriders.
Blood.
Everywhere.
All around her, the four races were fighting on a vicious, merciless battlefield.
There were bursts of darkness as the Shadow Walkers appeared and disappeared, and flashes of light as the Dayriders did the same. More flashes came as the Dayriders called forth lightning, using it as their chosen weapon of attack.
There were humans amongst them, too—humans who had answered Alex’s call after she had activated her Beacon tattoo, tracing the sideways figure-of-eight five times to send out her location. Bubbledoors had appeared almost instantly, with the armed forces charging from the colourful portals and into the fray.
Led by Commander Nisha, with Generals Drock and Tyson at her side—along with a company of Wardens overseen by Jeera and William—the humans fired bright lights from their Stabilisers across the war zone. The blasting weapons had little effect on the Meyarins, but distracted them enough for the Shadow Walkers and Dayriders to swoop in and engage the immortal race in combat. When none of Graevale’s denizens were close by, the Wardens and militia swung their own blades, their courage unfailing.
Even fighting against three fronts, the Meyarins were relentless in their assault. The Valispath enabled them to move just as swiftly as those from Graevale, their increased strength and speed in every other area allowing them to take ground, and quickly.
The bloodthirsty carnage of the battle shocked Alex on a level she had never imagined possible. It wasn’t at all like the movies; it wasn’t a perfectly choreographed rhythm of attack and defence.
It was gruesome.
It was brutal.
It was beyond her worst nightmares.
Becoming numb to the sights, sounds and smells depicting the harsh realities of war, Alex swept through the masses with Niyx and Soraya flanking her sides. The wolf was tearing down anyone who tried to get close, with Niyx doing the same using the armoury of weapons he had strapped to his body.
As for Alex, she swung A’enara left and right to help cull down the attacking forces, aiming to maim, not kill. She stabbed at legs and arms and any flesh that would force the Claimed Meyarins out of action and into a retreat. But she was one of the few taking such care. Not even Niyx and Soraya checked their attacks, those they slayed being unfortunate casualties of war.
The blood covering Alex’s body was not all her own. But it might as well have been, since she felt dead inside from what she was seeing, from what she was taking part in.
So many bodies lay around them.
Shadow Walkers. Dayriders. Meyarins. Humans.
So much death.
And above it all, on the steps of the Obscuria surveying the scene like a god amongst men, was Aven. He wasn’t engaged in the battle; his sword wasn’t even drawn. He merely watched with a detached air as his Claimed subjects fought for him; as they died for him. He showed no concern for his army, including—or perhaps especially—his gifted humans caught in the crossfires, seemingly apathetic to their fates as they used their abilities to defend themselves—or died trying to do so.
Calista was there, using her telekinetic gift to freeze the nearest Shadow Walkers and Dayriders, allowing the Meyarins to glide by and kill them.
Gerald was there, his tattoos coming to life and surging from his skin like barbed, bladed whips, slaying those who dared approach.
Grimm was there, sending anyone he made eye contact with into a coma-like sleep, guaranteeing their death by the swords of passing Meyarins.
Other gifted humans were amongst the crowd of fighters, some of them Claimed, some having arrived with Medora’s army, but other than waiting to see who they attacked, Alex had no way of knowing who was on which side. It made her attempts at offence all the more difficult since she didn’t want to cripple any of her own allies.
“Alex! ”
A familiar voice yelling her name almost stopped Alex from ducking under the blade of a Valispath-travelling Meyarin who had made it past Niyx and Soraya, but as soon as she sliced A’enara along the male’s leg—a disabling but non-lethal wound—she whirled around, heart pounding.
“No,” she gasped, and without waiting for Niyx to defeat his current opponent, she tore off across the immense cobblestoned square spread out at the base of the Obscuria where the fighting was thickest.
Running closer to the cathedral, Alex was careful to avoid Aven’s line of sight as she shoved her way through the masses and into the dark alleyway from where her name had been yelled.
“What are you doing here?” Alex shrieked upon seeing the white faces of D.C., Jordan and Bear, who together were fighting off a pair of Meyarins.
D.C. had a short dagger in hand and Bear held some kind of makeshift shield from a scrap of metal he’d likely found in the alley, but Jordan had no defence other than his gift, which he was using to distract the Meyarins, keeping them disoriented by disappearing and reappearing around them.
Alex’s friends were more than capable in a fair fight—Jordan and Bear were both ranked Delta in Combat, while D.C. was one level down in Gamma—but they had no training against immortal opponents. Nor did they carry any proper weapons, aside from D.C.’s measly blade that might as well have been a toothpick. They were holding their own so far, but only just. So, taking advantage of Jordan confusing the Meyarins with his gift, together with Bear and D.C., Alex helped overcome the two immortals enough that they both stumbled from the alleyway and back out into the melee.
Covered in blood splatters with combat filth smeared all over her, Alex stared at her friends, her wild, battle-freaked eyes revealing how stunned she was by their presence as she waited for an explanation.
“We asked Caspar Lennox to bring us back,” D.C. said, her voice shaking as she looked past Alex, out of the alleyway and into the raging battle. “We wanted to try and convince the elders to consider talking to you again, but when he shadowed us here, we got separated and—” She broke off, croaking as she finished, “We only wanted to help.”
Alex felt torn about her friends being there. It was dangerous—so, so dangerous. Part of her was terrified that something would happen to them. But another part was relieved they had found their way to Graevale; relieved she didn’t have to witness the horrors of this battle on her own.
She opened her mouth to tell them as much, but before she could do so, she sensed two Meyarins soaring towards them, swords raised. She didn’t hesitate to meet their attack with A’enara, her sword flashing with blue flames as she beat them back, knocking one out cold with her pommel and stabbing the other in the shoulder, following quickly with a powerful side kick into his abdomen to send him flying back into the square.
Spinning to face her wide-eyed friends once more, Alex said, “Come on, we need to—”
“There you are!”
Alex whirled around, sword raised again, but she sighed in relief at the sight of Caspar Lennox battling his way towards them. Like her, he was covered in blood, his cloak ripped and his mottled-grey features paler than ever.
Before he could reach them, another small wave of Meyarins swooped in, with Alex fighting them back again. Her friends helped as much as they could—Bear hitting them with his metal shield
, D.C. stabbing them with her small blade, Jordan transcending himself and using fists and boots to beat them off. Caspar Lennox joined in once he arrived at their sides, and they soon overpowered the three attackers.
Panting heavily, Alex winced when she heard Niyx growl into her mind, Where in the name of the light are you? I told you not to leave my side!
Something came up, she quickly returned, sending him an image of her friends and her SOSAC teacher, promising to return to him as soon as she could.
“You four,” Caspar Lennox said, not even asking how Alex had come to be there. “Time to go. This is not your fight.”
“It’s everyone’s fight,” D.C. said, her voice adamant even if it was still shaking.
“There is only death for you here,” the teacher returned, with no trace of his normally calm manner.
Alex could tell he wanted to be back out there, battling with his people. Instead, he was determined to whisk them away to safety. And indeed, without saying more, he reached out for both Jordan and D.C., latching his hands around their upper arms before vanishing in a cloud of shadows.
“He can only travel with two people at a time,” Bear told Alex. “He won’t be gone long, so if you don’t want to get stuck going back to the academy, then—”
Bear broke off when something caught his eye, the blood draining from his face as he bolted past Alex, intent on leaving the relative protection of the alleyway. It was only because she had so much adrenaline coursing through her body that she was able to react in time, lunging forward and wrapping her arms around his waist to keep him from certain death. As soon as he entered the square, he’d be free game to any and all Meyarins, not just those who happened upon the darkened hiding spot.
“Bear!” she cried, muscles screaming. “Stop!”
He didn’t stop, though. He struggled against her, his body writhing as he fought to get free of her grip.
“Dad!” he yelled. “Dad!”
His hoarse cry made Alex look past his shoulder to see William partway across the cobblestoned square, face to face with a gleeful-looking Gerald on one side, and the blank-eyed Calista on the other. The latter held William immobilised a foot off the ground while Gerald was swinging his tattooed, bladed whips in lazy circles, saying something to William that not even Alex could hear over the clashing steel and pained shrieks coming from all around them.
“Dad!” Bear cried again, but it was no use. William was too far away, and even if he wasn’t, he was surrounded by enemies. “We have to do something! Let me go, Alex! We have to—”
Alex released Bear, knowing he was right. She wouldn’t stand in his way—not when his dad needed their help.
“Come on!” she said, grabbing his hand and praying for a clear run as she sprinted out into the square towards William. She didn’t get three feet, however, before Bear stumbled to a gasping halt when Gerald swung his arm back and then forward, his whip-tattoos lashing across William’s chest, causing blood to spray from the deep, deep wound that tore open in his flesh.
Alex’s stomach roiled and Bear screamed his dad’s name again—a scream that there was no way William could have heard, and yet, his pained eyes swung across the fighting races to land on his son.
All the love William had for Bear, for his family, shone in his gaze as he mouthed the same three words he’d said into Bear’s ear just a week ago.
… And then Gerald’s tattoos whipped forward again, scouring across William’s neck this time, the wound just as deep as the first.
Too deep.
And the light in William’s eyes disappeared… along with his final breath.
“DAD!”
This time Alex didn’t have to hold Bear back, because as Calista lowered William’s body to the ground before disappearing into the masses with Gerald, Bear collapsed at her feet, unable to hold his own weight.
“Bear,” Alex whispered, the word sounding as choked as she felt. She crouched down and wrapped her arms around his quaking body, unable to summon the right words, the right actions.
What they’d just witnessed—What they’d just seen—
Bear’s dad… His dad…
He was dead.
William was dead.
But while Alex wanted to collapse beside her friend and lose herself in the tears now blurring her vision, her survival instincts told her that if she and Bear didn’t move, then they would be the next to die.
Together they’d only travelled a few feet from the alleyway, so they were still partially sheltered, but they wouldn’t be for long. Bear was in shock—she needed to get him away from the battle. And she couldn’t risk waiting to see how long it would take Caspar Lennox to return.
Shoving aside her own grief, Alex cast her gaze outwards, searching for the means to get him to safety. Her eyes landed on Soraya who was still fighting with Niyx on the other side of the dark battleground. Noting the size of her Shadow Wolf, Alex hoped like crazy that Soraya had grown enough for what she needed.
Yelling out her name, the wolf appeared panting at Alex’s side in a flash of light and dark. As she did so, three more Meyarins swooped in and lunged towards Alex and the still-immobile Bear. While Alex struggled to keep them from reaching her friend, she cried, “Get him out of here!”
Intelligent amber eyes met Alex’s as keen understanding flowed through whatever connection she had with the wolf. And then Soraya bounded past Alex and, in a blur of lightning and shadow, Bear was swept up by the massive creature, the two of them vanishing from sight.
Alex was too focused on her newest opponents to feel any kind of relief—or disappointment that she was now alone again—and once she disabled them, she ran straight back out into the square. Pushing aside her heartache, she attacked left and right, struggling through the crowd in her attempt to return to Niyx’s side, knowing they were stronger and safer together. Part of her wondered if she should have left with Bear, if she should have retreated to be with her friends. But she knew she was still needed here. D.C. was right—this was everyone’s fight. And after William…
Alex wouldn’t leave. Not if there was the slightest chance she could still make a difference.
Halfway across the square, and therefore half the remaining distance from Niyx, Alex was brought to a halt when she became pressed between shifting movements from Shadow Walkers, Dayriders and Meyarins alike. Fighting dizziness as they whirled around her with their quick bursts of shadows, flashes of light and blurs of the Valispath, a noise caused her body to lock and her head to turn—a noise that sent chills down her spine.
That noise was Aven laughing.
Straining to free herself from the masses, Alex could do nothing but stab with her sword and watch with dread as Calista stepped up the darkened stone staircase towards Aven, levitating a person through the air behind her.
Alex recoiled in horror when she realised who it was.
Lady Mystique.
The old woman wasn’t struggling. She was looking calmly at Aven, her face radiating peace.
That expression didn’t leave her; not when Aven unsheathed an inky black sword from his belt… and not when he thrust the blade through her midsection until it pierced clean out the other side.
“No!” Alex cried, watching Lady Mystique’s mouth open in a silent gasp as she sunk to the ground, the sword sliding free as she landed on her knees.
Even in the face of Aven’s triumphant expression, the ancient woman’s peace didn’t falter. He said something to her, something too low for Alex to hear over the sounds of A’enara still clashing against the weapons of those not pausing to watch the hideousness of what Aven had just done.
Lady Mystique replied to Aven, and whatever she said caused his features to darken before he viciously ran her through again, and then a third time.
“No!” Alex cried again, convulsing as if she’d been stabbed herself. The tears she’d held back after William’s death were now streaming down her cheeks at the sight of the ancient Tia Auran swaying on her kne
es.
As if she’d heard her cry, Lady Mystique turned pained but still peaceful eyes Alex’s way, finding her instantly despite the crowded square. The moment their gazes locked, the old woman smiled softly, before her eyes closed and she crumpled in a heap at Aven’s feet.
In that moment following Lady Mystique’s final breath, Alex was certain time stopped—at least for some.
For three whole seconds, every Claimed human and Meyarin froze mid-fight. Only Alex and Niyx, along with the Shadow Walkers, Dayriders, and free humans, were exempt from the pause in action. Once it passed, Aven’s Claimed army continued fighting with even more of a vengeance than before.
But Alex wasn’t focused on the battle. She was watching Aven, whose eyes had followed the Tia Auran’s gaze in her final moments as she’d looked straight at Alex.
With a face more ravaged than anything she had ever seen, he stumbled backwards at the sight of her—he actually stumbled, his eyes never leaving hers. But then his mouth opened, forming a single word.
Alex was still too far away to hear him, but she didn’t need to, because she knew exactly what word he spoke.
Aeylia.
Like the flick of a switch, his features morphed from shocked disbelief to unbridled rage. He threw his head back like an animal and roared to the heavens, the sound so ferocious that those battling in the square paused mid-swing to look up at him. Only when his eyes returned to Alex did the armies renew their combat.
Seeing the look on his face, watching him mouth her Meyarin name, hearing his scream… Alex knew that with Lady Mystique’s death, whatever had hidden ‘Aeylia’ from the minds of the Meyarins was now gone.
Aven’s memories had returned. He now knew the truth—that Alex was Aeylia. And that she was the catalyst for everything he had done… and everything that had happened to him.
With eyes like flames of liquid fire, Aven took one step and then two before tearing down the stairs, roaring again as he flew towards Alex, his Claimed army clearing a path at his mental command.
