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Tears slid down Serona's face when she kissed Alaric for the last time. He turned ashen, then cracked and pitted as an ancient stone statue. Even that faded when he crumpled into dust, streaming through her fingers and carried away by the wind.
Nyori dropped her eyes. The scene was so tragic that it felt intrusive to witness. For a time, nothing was heard but Serona's sobbing and the falling of flower blossoms.
Finally, she stood. The loathing that marred her face made Nyori's heart freeze in her chest. She hesitantly raised Eymunder, but the Geod didn't respond. The backlash from the intermingled energies seemed to have drained the staff somehow.
Serona's focus was so intent on Marcellus that she didn't seem to notice. Her eyes smoldered like purple poison, and her fingers hooked into claws. "You. You've taken everything from me."
Marcellus' voice was just a dry rasp. "Then at last, you know what it feels like."
Serona's eyes narrowed. "I said you would regret spurning my offer, and I shall keep my word." She raised her hand. The air in front of it rippled. Nyori moved to shield Marcellus from the blast.
A whistling sound was followed by a dull thunk. Serona grunted and staggered back several steps from the force of the arrow that pierced her breastplate. Her eyes widened as she looked around. "Who dares...?"
Another arrow whistled through the dense smoke and sunk into Serona's stomach. She doubled over, gripping the feathered shaft with a shriek of enraged pain. "Show yourself, you coward!"
In answer, another arrow struck Serona just below the shoulder. Crimson stained her armor as she groaned, slowly falling to her knees.
A hooded figure stepped from the smoke with a longbow in hand. The black cloak blew back, uncovering a snug leather vest and breeches, soft boots, and a billowy white silken shirt. The gloved hand reached up to pull back the cowl, revealing a woman's alluring face.
"Masiki. You ... you are the one behind all of this." Blue lines webbed across Serona's face as her skin calcified, turning pitted and ashen. "You're ... supposed to be dead."
"Truly?" Masiki raised a questioning eyebrow as she casually leaned on her bow. "Death is a useful shield to operate behind. No one looks for you or figures you into their plans." Her smile was as beautiful and deadly as a dragon's eye.
"Don't bother trying to pull out the arrows—they are barbed and tipped with Banestone. You must know this, for they are no doubt already taking effect. At least Alaric will have company on the way to Narak's fiery rivers."
Masiki ignored Serona's baleful glare as she bent to pick up Nemon and lift the weapon to the light. "You Co'nane never did understand that you were just tools the entire time. More the pity."
She stood as if to go but paused to look at Nyori with a half-smile.
"Still, better to be safe, wouldn't you say?"
She twirled Nemon with a flourish. The blade hummed when it struck Serona's head from her shoulders.
As the remains disintegrated into grainy dust, Masiki shouldered the blade and knelt next to the barely-conscious Marcellus. Nyori tried to move, but she was frozen as though turned to stone like Alaric. Masiki's presence was overpowering, smothering everything around her.
She gazed at Marcellus without expression. "How strange that so fragile a shell could have been a vessel of such power. Yet his warding is broken, and he will die unless I save him."
She raised her eyes. Nyori couldn't help but shiver at Masiki's gaze. It was like being stared at by a mountain or a lightning storm. There was something ancient and inhuman behind her stare.
Masiki never blinked. "Choose wisely, Shama. Your champion can die now and finally rest in peace, or you can bind to me and use my power to repair his damage. The choice is yours."
"I choose to heal him," Nyori said.
Masiki laughed softly. "No hesitation and no consideration for the ramifications. So typical of your kind. Very well, Shama. Give me your hand." She removed her glove and extended her hand expectantly.
Nyori felt an inexplicable sense of dread. "Why can you not heal him yourself?"
Impatience flickered across Masiki's face. "The warding is yours, Shama. I cannot alter it without being linked to you."
Nyori hesitated, staring at Masiki's hand as though it were a live serpent about to strike. At the last second, she desperately wanted to recoil, to snatch back from what felt like a trap door about to slam shut. But their fingers converged, sealing off any indecision. Masiki's touch was blazing hot, her grip unbreakable. As they clasped hands, both Eymunder and Nemon flickered with light. The Glyphs on Nyori's arms blazed.
She gasped. It was like binding to a maelstrom. She felt the sheer power that Masiki possessed, a tempest of mingling energies that were beyond Nyori's comprehension. She felt like a leaf buffeted by storm winds. Her tight grip on Eymunder was the only thing that kept her anchored. The staff effused with light; the amber orb flashed bright gold. Nyori understood with sudden clarity that Masiki wasn't human, and she wasn't Aelon.
She was something beyond.
Masiki planted Nemon in the earth and traced intricate runes across Marcellus' chest with her fingers. The skin underneath glowed as the Glyphs reformed. Another Glyph glimmered as well, a single character that flashed like a sizzling brand across Marcellus' forehead before fading into his skin. Nyori opened her mouth but was cut off by Masiki's words.
"It is done. Marcellus Admorran will not die today, for he has much to suffer before he claims that reward."
Nyori felt the chill of the harbinger at Masiki's words, who spoke as if reading the face of the future. As if her words were prophecy.
Masiki smiled as she stood with Nemon glimmering in her hand. "Farewell, Shama Nyori. Enjoy whatever peace you can find in the eye of the storm. It will not last, I promise you that. Keep Eymunder safe with you this time. It will not do for it to fall into Aelon hands again, as it will be needed again very soon."
She whistled a high, melodic note that seemed impossible from a human throat. An answering whinny came from the woods beyond, and a shimmering white steed galloped from the fading mist. A golden horn gleamed in the sunlight at the center of its head. Masiki leaped upon it in mid-stride and was born away with the speed of a brisk wind. Flower petals scattered in their wake and fluttered slowly to the ground.
Nyori stared in stunned silence long after Masiki disappeared.
She returned her attention to Marcellus when he stirred with a groan. His shirt was open, and the Glyphs glimmered across his chest. The mark on his forehead had already faded away without a trace. When his eyes opened, they glinted like burnished steel. He smiled. It was the first time Nyori had seen him smile without pain or darkness in his eyes, and just that sight was worth it all.
"I thought I heard you talking to someone."
"Marcellus, your wounds—" Nyori examined them, but it seemed that Masiki was true to her word. The wounds that had been mortal were merely faded scars that joined the others on his body.
Marcellus looked healthier than she had ever seen him. "I don't know what you did, but they have healed. I'm in your debt once again."
A voice spoke softly from behind them. "You are not the only one, warrior. I am in the Shama's debt as well."
Leilavin limped forward, looking as ragged as the rest of them. Nyori felt a surge of relief that the woman still lived. She had been afraid Leilavin had not survived the explosion.
Leilavin's face was a mixture of pain and wounded pride as she gazed at Alaric and Serona's remains, piles of dust that the wind had already begun to scatter. "Alaric is dead. Strange that I would feel so empty. You have taken my vengeance, Shama. I suppose I must find something else to focus on in this mortal life."
Marcellus slowly stood and squinted at Leilavin. "You seem familiar, somehow. Have we met, milady?"
Leilavin dropped her eyes. "I think not, Sir Knight. I was a prisoner here until the Shama freed me."
Nyori said nothing. She couldn't betray Leilavin, especially since the woman had kept her word thus far. She had many questions, and Leilavin was someone who could answer many of them. And Nyori felt oddly protective of the woman as well, something she couldn't explain. It might have been the way Leilavin swore to serve her. Or perhaps because Nyori had seen Leilavin at her most vulnerable.
She gazed at Marcellus. The wind tousled his hair, and the sunlight glinted from his eyes when he looked at her. "Such a waste. I have been a fool, Nyori. To you and so many others."
"What do you mean?"
He sighed, staring at Alaric's remains. "Just before the Reaver took me, I had begun to realize Alaric might not have been the enemy I believed he was. But because of my weakness, war was the only option left. How many might have lived had I been stronger?"
He clenched his fists. "I swear that I will make amends, Nyori. I will do whatever it takes to rebuild and protect my kingdom. Even if it takes the rest of my life."