Chapter 252 252

Chapter 252 252
“Look at you, giving me orders like we’ve been married for years.”

His smile is sincere, so sincere that the dust left of my heart is blown away by the wind. His lips are bloodied, and slowly he mirrors me, falling to his knees. He extends a free hand toward me, as if to caress me. I crawl across the ground, closing the distance. His thumb grazes my cheek.

“No, don’t do this.” I shake my head. “Don’t say goodbye. Don’t leave me.”

“Sweetheart, never that. I’ll always be right behind you.”

Another sob rips through me. I don’t even realize I’m screaming at everyone to do something. I call for my father, but he doesn’t appear. I beg anyone to help me, because Cassian can’t leave me. He smiles as if amused. My arms clutch him tightly. A trickle of blood slips down his chin. His blue eyes lock on my gray ones, refusing to look away until at last he can’t, and the whites show. I brush the hair from his forehead, shaking him in my arms, desperate for a response.

“Liar.”

A tear slides down my chin.

“Liar.”

It splashes on his lips.

“Liar.”

I strike his chest, as if that could force the organ that has never beaten to do so now.

“You told me you wouldn’t leave. Liar, liar, liar!”

No one dares come near, nor speak. Except Ragna, who begins clapping as though this were the finest show she’d ever seen.

The fact that my pain entertains her only fuels the beast inside me, the one that’s been battering its cage, roaring to be let loose even if it devours my heart in the process.

“Cassian?”

Antony kneels beside me. I close my eyes and picture the threads, as my father taught me, and see his glowing scarlet. Also frayed is our bond, its color now ash. I hold the red strands in my palms, still warm, and try to weave them back together. I try once, twice, three times, so many that sweat soaks my back.

“How?”

“Her tears,” Ragna answers, savoring every detail. “I was waiting for this moment. The instant they fell to the ground, his fate was sealed. Ironic, how something so small and insignificant could mean the end of your kind—or the salvation of mine.”

“How did you discover it?”

She tosses something red toward us. It looks like a ball of fire until the horrified face of Narkissa becomes visible. Her head shows signs of having been brutally torn off.

“It’s always the traitors with broken hearts. She might have been a fine match for him, always so devoted, guarding a secret even he didn’t know she kept. But with the right torture, everyone spills what they hide.”

The spear in Cassian’s chest twitches as he tries to move, but Antony is faster, holding it with both hands.

“Drogo returned from death, like my dear Kaelric, and with him he brought the power to manipulate nature.”

The information seeps into my mind, but all I can truly think of is vengeance. Yet I’m not the one who lets out the war cry, not the one who loses control. The rebel Halfbloods erupt in a raw howl, so powerful that for a moment I want to weep. I don’t let my eyes water. Once again, I forbid myself to feel. Nothing good comes of it.

I lower my face to Cassian, resting my head against his chest, praying he’ll move. He doesn’t, and it shatters me further inside. I hide there, searching for what warmth remains, for the strength to last a little longer. Just a little longer. Long enough to take death with me.

In the midst of my agony, the wind cuts my cheeks and whips my hair. I lift my gaze to see vampires, Halfbloods and Pure alike, differences forgotten, charging as one toward the shapeshifters—perhaps into death.

“For you, brother.”

Antony rises and joins the others.

I close my eyes one last time against the horror and lower my lips to his. I press a brief kiss there, brushing away the tear on his cheek with my thumb. The greatest warriors won after knowing pain, so I’ll use mine to win.

When I rise, I am resolved to take death with me.
Everywhere I look, chaos breaks its way through. At first I think I’m going to freeze among the rest, who don’t hesitate to tear apart with their hands and teeth whatever crosses their path. The first enemy that faces me is a huge black-furred wolf whose eyes promise a painful and brutal death. We lock eyes, neither of us sure who will make the first move. He raises his paw and takes a step, expecting me to retreat like the weak being he believes I am. Instead, I grit my teeth and lunge at him. My body moves with a fluidity that still surprises me. The shapeshifter can’t keep up with my movements and before he realizes it, I have his jaws between my hands. The blood and grotesque sight don’t affect me as they once would have. I watch without a shred of compassion as my enemy begs with his eyes for me to stop. The flesh splits open slowly, like the seams of clothing, and though a voice tells me to prolong this agony, I separate the rest of the head from the lower jaw, ending it.

The head rolls to the tip of Azrakiel’s boots, who nods in recognition. He limps slightly as he walks toward me, but in time he’ll have fully recovered.

“Ready to dance with a friend?”

“If you take me to my true target, of course.”

We both cast a glance at Ragna, who watches as her own fight without staining her hands. A true queen willing to sacrifice her subjects if it means survival.

Azrakiel and I spring into action quickly, fighting side by side, perfectly synchronized, as if we had been doing this all our lives and not as a result of just a few weeks of practice together. He grabs me by the clothes and spins me so that I have the perfect height to kick the throat of one of the wolves who rears up on his hind legs. The crack of his neck is music to our ears.

Arrows begin to fall from the sky, some with flaming tips and others with tips so white I know they were forged from white oak to kill the Halfbloods. Both sides suffer the consequences. Some Halfbloods only clutch at superficial wounds, while others collapse to the ground and meet their death.

Zerion joins us, placing himself at my side.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” he says as he drives his sword into the chest of a shapeshifter. “He wasn’t my favorite person, but he was yours.”

I try not to let his words affect me, I can’t allow myself to cry again. I shake my head as if that would do the trick.

“Elara!”