Steel screams across the beach as the armies clash in a mess of blood and metal. Within minutes, the sand is riddled with bodies and blood, and I don’t know which are enemies or allies.
The Last Army is brutal.
I know that from experience, but I’ve only ever fought alongside them before and watching my people fight against them is a different story.
They descend like wild animals, springing from the ground and ripping their swords through the air.
I’m pushed back, the maze of Polemistés warriors shielding me from the battle just as Selestra ordered. I quickly lose sight of her in the chaos and a panic sets through me.
I hate this.
I search the sands for her, my eyes roaming the beach to spot her green hair or sunlight eyes. But there is no sign. I want to lead the charge alongside her, fighting at her side rather than standing at the edge of battle like some kind of coward.
I can’t just stand here and do nothing.
This is my fight, my father’s fight, and I’ve been waiting years for it.
I know what I promised Selestra, but I’m not made to do nothing while people risk their lives for me. If I can’t take on the king myself, then I can at least try to protect some of our warriors.
I grip my father’s sword tightly.
I will avenge you tonight, I promise him.
I dart forward, weaving through the battle and blocking as many strikes as I can against our warriors. Blow after blow, I shield with my father’s sword, before running to the next part of the battle.
I spot Lucian on the far side of the beach by the water, surrounded by at least five of the Last Army.
Quickly, I charge toward him.
I clutch my father’s sword and bring it high into the air.
I don’t hesitate as I attack each of them, slicing my blade across their stomachs and arms, blocking each blow with as much veracity as I can. Their swords shudder against mine.
I ram my blade into a chest. A heart.
“Get back, you fool!” Lucian yells. “We need you alive to end this.”
“Where is Selestra?” I ask.
Where is Theola? I think.
Surely Selestra’s mother will want to kill her first. I won’t retreat until I see her and know she’s safe.
“The future queen can handle this,” Lucian says. “Eldara made sure of it. You must stay safe by the sidelines. You are meant to direct our warriors, not intervene in the battle.”
I grit my teeth. “I know that.”
Lucian and half a dozen Polemistés warriors surround me in a protective circle, fighting off any Last Army soldier who gets near, while I search the shores looking for my princess of magic.
Only instead of Selestra, I see something else.
Seryth stands at the edge of the beach, feet clipping the water as soldier after soldier falls to the ground by his feet. He lets them all die for him.
Even as an immortal, he doesn’t want to risk scarring himself when he can watch the battle from afar like an amused puppeteer, searching for just the right victim.
His eyes connect with mine and my jaw hardens as a smile slips onto his hollow face at the sight of me in the battle.
I expect him to lunge forward and try to fight his way through the Polemistés warriors to get to me, but instead his eyes move left and over to a small group of palm trees.
Micah stands there, his sword plunging into the stomach of a Last Army soldier.
No, I think as the king tears his focus from me and puts it all on my best friend.
In a blink, he is at Micah’s side, pulling my friend by the neck and throwing him to the ground.
Micah quickly recovers, standing and then charging him, but Seryth moves easily to avoid it and gives a hard kick to Micah’s stomach that sends him stumbling backward.
When Micah doubles over in pain, Seryth whips a hand across his face, knocking him down once more.
His eyes find mine again.
He beckons me toward him with a finger. He’s goading me with Micah’s life.
I push Lucian out of my way and rush forward, ignoring his calls to stop.
I slip across the sand, diving out of the way of stray arrows that soar through the air.
“My little legacy,” Seryth calls when I approach. “Let’s see how much you’ve learned.”
Without hesitation, I slice my father’s sword through the air, but rather than meet bone, it meets nothingness. Seryth glides around my movements, skilled enough that even without a blade to defend himself, he won’t let me get to him.
I throw a punch, but he bats my hand away easily, like I am more of an annoyance than a challenge.
“Weak,” Seryth says. “You’re all so weak.”
He sounds disgusted by the word and its ashen taste in his mouth.
I can see on his face that just being in the presence of people like us—of mortals who live and die—revolts him.
He can’t stand to be here. Not because he’s afraid, but because he thinks it’s unworthy of who he has become.
Seryth regards me with a disappointed shake of his head. “You’re not going to survive this, Nox.”
I twist my sword in the air, letting the sunlight radiate from it in a beam. “I’ve done pretty well so far.”
“Your father thought the same,” Seryth says, eyeing the blade apathetically. “You think as he did and live as he did. Now you’ll die as he did.”
“We’ll see about that,” Micah says, appearing from behind him.
But he barely raises his sword in the air before Seryth turns and pushes him to the ground, discarding Micah like he doesn’t matter in this.
He was just a tool to get me here, face-to-face.
I hurtle toward him like a bolt of lightning. Seryth holds out a hand, as if to stop me, and I bring the blade straight through his palm.
He curses.
Now is my only chance.
Promise me if you see Seryth, then you’ll run, Selestra begged.
I need to take Micah and get as far away from this king of shadows as I can. Then, when the Red Moon rises, I’ll be able to kill him once and for all.
Seryth snarls over to me as I spring for Micah. “Not so fast,” he says.
He raises his leg in a sharp kick to my knee. It connects straight to the joint, sending me reeling.
I yell out in pain.
Before I realize it, Seryth has heaved Micah from the sand. He brings a knife to his throat.
My blood goes cold.
“Don’t,” I say, lurching forward.
Seryth raises a dark brow and a cold, dry laugh escapes his throat. “Is that an order, soldier?” he asks, daring.
“Let him go.”
Seryth’s eyes narrow. “Now what fun would that be?”
He squeezes Micah by the neck.
“I said stop!” I yell, holding out my father’s sword.
He knows I won’t use it.
Not with Micah between us.
“Just run him through,” Micah says, struggling under Seryth’s grasp. “Stab him, Nox!”
“He can’t do that,” Seryth says.
His fingers tighten around Micah’s throat, but his eyes never leave mine. Not even as the tip of the knife breaks the surface of Micah’s neck.
“If he tries, you die,” Seryth says callously to Micah. “And little Nox doesn’t want to lose any more people he loves. Any more family.”
He’s right, of course.
Micah has been my only family for years. I’ve lost everyone close to me: My mother when I was born. My father to this demon king in front of me. But through everything there’s been Micah.
So I stay still.
I watch as Seryth slides the knife slowly across Micah’s throat, drawing a thin line of blood with the shallow cut.
It dribbles slowly down and Micah winces in pain.
“Let him go,” I seethe.
My father’s sword shakes in my hand.
“You should have stayed back,” Seryth says. “But you can’t help fighting, can you, Nox? Even with your life on the line, you can’t resist the call of the sword. A true soldier. We’re alike in that way.”
“You can’t win this with mind games,” I say in a challenge.
“What do you truly want from your sad little life?” Seryth asks, ignoring me. “Vengeance? That is so small, Nox. So pitiful. You should think bigger. I wanted to be the greatest warrior to ever live. For people to know my power and not forsake me for an unworthy king. I wanted to rule the Six Isles and lead our lands to greatness. And look what I’ve achieved. Think of what you could accomplish if you joined me rather than fought against me.”
“You’ve enslaved people,” I say, voice wavering as his hold on Micah strengthens.
“Well, yes,” Seryth says, with a small chuckle. “But that’s beside the point.”
Only there’s no point to anything he’s saying. It’s all just words and a way to bide time and try to throw me off-kilter.
He wants to get inside my mind and I won’t let him.
“What do you truly want, Nox?” Seryth asks again.
I narrow my eyes. “I want this to be over,” I say. “I want you to suffer.”
Seryth’s eyes slip to Micah and the blade steadies against his shaking neck.
“Nox—” Micah starts.
I see the fear in his eyes as he realizes a beat before I do.
“We all must suffer,” Seryth tells me. “You should know that by now.”
He sinks the knife into Micah’s neck.
I watch as my friend draws in a quiet gasp of pain.
The blood gushes down his shirt.
Then Seryth drops Micah’s lifeless body to the ground.
“There now,” he says with a cruel smile. “It’s over.”