The world slowed to a stop as Aspen watched Tristan disappear into the storm. Her heart stopped beating. Her breath caught in her chest and expanded until she nearly burst. The screams. The blood. The pain and death and agonizing heartbreak. It all flooded through her again and rooted her to the spot. She had failed. She had failed again and had everything ripped from her. She couldn’t stop it. Couldn’t fight it.
“NO!” Aspen picked up her sword. Blood flowed from her shoulder and the earth swayed beneath her feet, but she bared her teeth and clenched her sword’s hilt. No. No, she would not let it happen again. She would not lose anyone else ever again. “What did you do to him?”
Laire drew his sword from the dirt—the sword that had hovered on the edge of Aspen’s mind every waking moment and in every tinge of her scar. He laughed, the sound manic and inhuman. His eyes blazed with madness. The boy he had brought with him writhed on the ground, clutching his head in agony as his mouth gaped open in a silent scream.
“He’s gone.” Laire clenched and unclenched his fist around the cursed blade’s hilt. “My bargaining piece…my future. Their future. Gone. Just gone. All gone.” He repeated the phrase in a manic loop. He paced two steps forward and one step back in an endless circle.
Aspen tried to inch around him, but anytime she had a clear path to the storm he lurched in her direction, tearing at his hair and giggling to himself. She couldn’t get close enough to disarm him. The mere presence of his sword served well enough to ward her off. One step too close and she would be immobilized, and then her death would follow in short order. Her heart slammed against her ribcage, and her thoughts raced.
She planted her feet and breathed deep. Think, Aspen. Think. Don’t panic.
Every moment in the storm exposed Tristan to more danger. She had to get to him, and quickly. She would do whatever it took.
Laire stopped his circles. His unbridled, manic energy had subsided. Instead, it focused on one point. Aspen.
Aspen’s neck prickled. She had seen that look on the battlefield before. Had felt it in her own heart. The look of someone that had lost all hope, and would drag everything to the Pit with them.
“You.” He advanced on Aspen, his sword now sure in his grip. “It’s always been you. You stop me. You get in my way. WHY?” He swung his sword for emphasis, too far to reach Aspen. “I just want to take care of my family! That night, you warned the rebels, didn’t you? You couldn’t just die. You had to be noble.”
Aspen backed away from him, teeth clenched. He was too close. Her back was aflame. She growled as she watched the distance widen between her and the storm.
“And now this!” Laire flung his arms wide. “I didn’t have to destroy him. It was your doing. You destroyed my family’s future!”
“You threatened mine!” Aspen spat with as much venom as she could muster. “Your choices led you here, not mine.” Pinpricks of light danced beneath her eyelids, and her head swam. She didn’t know how much blood she had lost. Her sword drooped farther every second. Not yet! We can still fight! “You all started this war. Leave the Ancient Races alone and maybe the bloodshed and ruined lives can end!”
“You know nothing about me!” He bore down on her with more fury than Aspen had ever seen in any mortal. “You struck first!” He swung at her head. She glanced it off the flat of her blade. “You’re all a poison on this earth and I will purge it of your stain!” A sweep at her stomach. She lurched back. “I won’t let you touch my family again!” Blow after blow rained on Aspen. Lightning flashed each time their blades met.
Aspen bit her lip until it bled, battling the pain more than the man. Every flash of his blade was another memory. Another nightmare. Arrows flying through the eerily quiet gray-dawn morning. The wordless thuds of bodies falling beside her. Screams and blood and wishes for death. Her wishes. A monster with a blade of bone that should not have been there. Not unless someone had betrayed them. The man was surrounded by hordes, all bearing down on three resolute figures. Bearing down on the people she had been assigned to protect and lead. She had been the only one left. She would not let that happen again.
A battle cry welled from Aspen’s stomach, fueled by the emotions she had trapped for so long—rage, fear, regret, pain, loneliness. She pushed back against her attacker and banished the paralyzing thoughts. She ignored the agony in her back and fought. Blow after blow after blow, she bent him back. She was not the girl she had once been. She had faced death and terror and loss and she had still somehow made it this far. She would not let this journey end here. Not when others needed her help. No matter how deeply her limbs shook and how much terror had taken root in her chest. Just one swing. And then another. Another and another and another. That was the only thing she could afford to focus on. Individual steps in an intricate, flowing dance.
Laire was unprepared. His eyes widened as he stumbled back under her constant onslaught. “You should be paralyzed! This sword’s curse should drive you to your knees!” Aspen smelled the fear on his breath.
Her back shrieked in agreement as if it intended to tear itself in two. Aspen battled back the agony straining in her throat. “You are not the first one to tell me what I should be,” the words cut through her clenched teeth. “And you will not be the last one I have proven wrong.”
She did something absolutely, unquestioningly stupid. Ignoring feeling, ignoring logic, she barreled straight for him. A mad dash she had laughed at Tristan for. His smug face, if he could see her now, would be unbearable.
Laire had no time to react. He screamed when she cut a gash in his abdomen. He flailed at her, hugging his wound, and she knocked the sword from his hand. It skittered away, too far from reach for him to retrieve it.
Laire screamed again and kicked gravel into Aspen’s face. She shut her eyes against it. Through the space between her lashes, she saw him throw his full body weight at her. She sidestepped to safety, her eyes still closed. Laire roared and whirled back to her. He lunged again and missed a second time. Mostly. He snagged a chunk of Aspen’s hair and wrenched her head back. The cracks in her neck shot all the way through her skull and down her spine. She tore herself free—a chunk of her hair left in his fist.
Lightning arced from the storm system and struck between Aspen and Laire. They fell to their knees, blinded with ears ringing. Aspen forced herself to her feet again. Her sword buzzed. She swayed on her feet and desperately tried to blink the swimming purple, blue, and white stains from her eyes. Where was Laire? Where was he? She couldn’t see him. Maybe he had been vaporized?
Someone plowed into her like a massive wagon horse. She plunged forward. Her ankle snapped. Her sword skittered from her hand. Meaty fists clenched around her windpipe.
“You were supposed to die that day,” Laire said, breath putrid in her face. He grinned as Aspen tore at his hands. She couldn’t get a proper grip. “This time, I’ll make sure of it. I’ll watch your life drain away, and then I’ll break your neck for good measure.”
Aspen’s left hand continued to snatch uselessly at Laire’s while the other reached for her sword. Too far. It was too far. Just a finger’s width away. Blackness encroached on her vision. Her body buzzed and fizzed. Sleep crept through her bones.
No. No! Tristan! He needed her! He was caught in the storm by himself. She reached for the raging wall of gales, willing herself to crawl there. A gurgling, unintelligible sound fell from her mouth as tears slid down her face.
Laire leaned close. His words hissed in her ear. “He’s gone. Even if you survived, and even if you found him, he’d still be gone. His mind has been destroyed, torn apart from the inside.” He pushed his thumbs against her jaw and forced her to look at Sorren. The boy foamed at the mouth and mumbled unintelligibly, his body locked and spasming. “That is all that will be left of him. The only thing he’ll be good for is death. I’ll present him to the king as another offering. Another trophy. The pathetic end to the pathetic blood of King Salaith.”
His words flew like flies through molasses in Aspen’s mind. Something important was there. She knew it. But she couldn’t force herself to grasp the meaning of his words, though he seemed to think they should have an effect on her. She’d already spent too much effort to keep herself conscious.
Laire hummed to himself. “But that’s not something you’ll need to worry about, is it?” He squeezed tighter. Aspen’s eyes bugged out as her throat nearly collapsed on itself. She choked for air, but nothing came. “You won’t have anything to worry about in the next few seconds. I almost envy you that.”
A single pinpoint of light remained in Aspen’s vision. She couldn’t move her limbs anymore. Her body had given up. Maybe…maybe it was time she did, too.
Something hissed through the air and thudded with the unmistakable sound of an arrow to flesh. Laire screamed and jerked away. Aspen’s airway was free. She gasped and drank in the air as greedily as she could. Adrenaline fed feeling back into her body and she heaved Laire off her, scrambling for her sword. She hacked phlegm and spittle, her throat tense and shaking as if it had forgotten what air felt like.
Laire screamed again, this time as a challenge. Another arrow flew into his left shoulder. The first had already impaled the right. Styrax shambled as quickly as he could over the cliff’s loose debris without plummeting as Tristan had. As he ran, his eyes glowed white. A pillar of ice froze around Laire and encased him from the shoulders down. He roared again but was no longer a threat.
“Aspen!” Ash stumbled down the mountain, slinging her bow over her shoulder. “Aspen, what happened?”
A lump formed in Aspen’s throat. What had she ever done to deserve her cousin?
Her body desperately wanted to sink to the ground to recover. Her shoulder still bled down her side. Her broken ankle had swollen in her boot. Her throat spasmed. Her heart pounded frantically and her frame sagged with exhaustion. She was safe. She could rest.
But she couldn’t. Someone else still needed her.
“Tristan.” She clutched at her throat. She could barely raise it above a croaking whisper. “Tristan’s in there. Help the boy. I’ll be back.”
“What?” Ash ran to her, still out of reach. “Aspen, wait!”
Aspen shook her head. She had no more time to explain. She turned. Ash screamed for her.
Aspen leapt into the storm.