Magic pulsed from Lyana’s body as she fought to keep the House of Wisdom from slipping beneath the sea. The jagged cliffs on the underside of the isle transformed into open wounds her aethi’kine power sought to heal. The sands along the ocean floor rose and hardened. Inch by inch, the home of the owls settled back into the earth from which it had once been ripped, reconnecting as though it’d never been separated in the first place. The sensation calmed her soul, as though finally she was doing something right, something worthy, and that was when the realization hit.
Healing. Of course, healing.
It was written in the prophecy. It had been there all along.
Together they will heal that which we broke.
All this time, they’d been thinking of saving the isles and closing the rift as two separate things—to Lyana, the first a far-off dream, and to Malek, nothing but a distraction. Yet the ideas were the same. They were connected. The spell holding the isles aloft was the spell keeping the rift contained, and one couldn’t be fixed without the other. That was why her magic was useless against the growing void, why it was taking her and Malek so long to push back the abyss. The isles were the rift and the rift was the isles, and in order to save the world they had to first put it back together. That was her role. That was her job. To heal. According to the prophecy, someone else would come to defeat the dragons, to save them all, but only after the sky fell. Not just a handful of isles, but all of them.
The House of Peace.
Aethios’s god stone was the keystone holding the spell together and keeping the rift at the bottom of the sea. As long as it remained in the sky, the world would never heal. That barren void, that poisonous abyss, would keep spreading. But if she returned the isle to its rightful place, if she lifted the rift from the depths, if she stopped the bleeding, maybe the rest of the puzzle would fall into place.
I have to go to Sphaira.
There was a reason Lyana had been born a dove. A reason she’d been raised in the halls of the crystal palace, granted access to the sacred nest by birth. A reason she’d been given an adventurous spirit, spending her youth learning how to sneak into and out of her home. And this was it. She could feel it, as though the very spirit of the world were urging her down this path, urging her to carry on, to take this leap of faith, to believe her wings and will would be there to catch her. Everything in her life had been leading to this moment, this decision, and all she had to do was make it.
I’m ready.
Lyana withdrew from her magic, praying she’d done enough to save Xander, but there was no time to waste. Not for him. Not for Rafe. Not even for herself. Now that she knew what she was meant to do, she couldn’t delay another moment. Not if it risked the world.
She opened her eyes to pitch black.
A claw wrapped around her throat and the golden power flooding her veins simply vanished. Sharp talons dug into her skin as the fingers squeezed, cutting off air. She tried to scream, to alert Malek, but no sound escaped her lips. Gripping the slick scales, she pushed the creature away, but without her magic she was weak. The shadows around her receded, until an onyx arm slipped into view, then a chest, then a head. She kicked and squirmed, but the grip around her throat was as unbreakable as iron. Its arm didn’t even budge. Darkness swirled in a vortex around them as the creature pulled her closer, opening its mouth so its ivory teeth gleamed against black lips. Her throat burned. Those bottomless eyes stared into hers, almost as though it wanted to watch the life leave her, something vengeful about their obsidian gleam.
Movement caught her eye.
A silver sword carved through the spinning shadow. Her vision started to spot. The creature leaned closer, hissing. As it shifted its head to the side, Rafe stepped free of the darkness. Her heart leapt in her throat, but Lyana willed her face to remain still lest she give him away. He lifted his finger to his lips, signaling silence, then arched his sword overhead.
As the blade came slashing down, the shadow creature tossed her aside and spun. It caught the metal edge in its palm, seemingly unconcerned as the weapon sliced through its scales. Rafe pulled back and attacked again. Lyana didn’t see if his blade struck true. The world descended into darkness again, leaving her blind. Grunts and hisses echoed across the void. As much as she wanted to help, she had to trust that Rafe could handle this fight himself.
“Malek!” Lyana called through the black. “Malek!”
He didn’t answer.
Diving into her magic, she reached for his spirit. He was close. He was alive, just too deep in his own power to hear her call. Lyana crawled across the floor on her hands and knees, using his soul as a guide as she crossed over the rug, not stopping until her fingers found a warm body. She shook him by the shoulders.
“Malek! Come back. Malek!”
A gasp escaped his lips as the magic flooding from his spirit drew back. She knew the moment he opened his eyes because his soul flashed with panic. “Lyana?”
“I’m here,” she answered, skimming her hand down his arm until she found his fingers. “I’m right here.”
“What’s going on? Where—”
“The shadow creature is here. Rafe is fighting it. We don’t have much—”
The darkness vanished, but there was no time to turn around and see why. Malek’s stormy eyes regarded her fiercely, as though he knew she had more to say. The battle at her back might as well have been in a different realm for all the regard he gave it. There was no fear in his spirit, only iron determination as he tightened his grip on her palm.
“I know what to do, Malek,” she said. “We have to get to Sphaira. We have to return all the isles to their rightful place upon the sea and lift the rift from the ocean floor. We have to heal the world. That’s the only way to save it.”
“But the spell, the rift—”
“I know,” she cut in. “I know it sounds crazy. The spell is the only thing keeping us from complete ruin, but it’s keeping us from victory too. I can’t explain how I know. I just do.”
His sandy brows drew together, carving a deep groove above the bridge of his nose. “If we do this, the aethi’kine creature will be freed.”
“I know.”
“And yet you’re certain?”
He’d trusted her enough to send his magic to the House of Wisdom instead of the rift. Somehow, he would trust her enough to do this too. “It’s the only—”
A mangled cry stole her voice.
Lyana spun.
Rafe stood with his back to her in the opening of the balcony. One of his wings was bent in half, the bone shattered as the leathery expanse dragged along the floor. The shadow creature stood behind him. For the first time, she noticed the deep maroon stains upon his clothes. How many wounds had his magic healed? How many still bled? He swayed on unsteady feet, fighting to keep his balance. It was no use. The creature shoved and Rafe stumbled through the door. His hips hit the stone rail and his body tumbled over the side.
“Rafe!” she screamed, her magic already chasing after him.
The shadow creature stepped in its path, absorbing the golden glow within its onyx scales. With a hiss, she retreated, the merest touch of its soul burning her to the core.
“Rafe…” she whimpered.
Even if he did hear, he wasn’t coming to save her. Not this time. The shadow creature raced across the room, a claw outstretched. Lyana winced and closed her eyes.
The strike never landed.
“Go!” Malek screamed.
Tendrils of his golden magic wrapped around the shadow creature and held it in a vicelike grip. He grunted, denying the scream surging up his throat. Lyana whipped around to face him, a protest rising to her lips.
“Malek, you can’t—”
“Go, Lyana,” he ordered. The peach skin of his face was already turning red. As she watched, a boil bubbled along his neck, his flesh burning from the inside out. The tips of his fingers blackened. Wavy blond locks dropped to the floor as his scalp melted. “I can’t hold them for long. Go! Now! You’re the Queen Bred of Snow and you’re going to save the world. So, leave! Fly! And don’t you dare waste time looking back.”
She did waste a moment, but just one to memorize the faith and trust shining in his eyes like the sun after a storm. Then she turned and flapped her wings as she took to the sky.