Chapter 254

I glance quickly and see a black shadow coming toward us just as many shapeshifters try to flee, despite their leader’s refusal. Without thinking, I tangle my fingers in the golden threads and give them a sharp tug, hearing Moirah’s dead weight hit the ground. Her golden eyes stare at the sky, which the ashes have turned gray. A great story that will never be told has died. I have no time to think; Antony’s guttural scream whips my neck around. He is on his knees, hands at his temples, shaking his head from side to side. Soon Zerion imitates him, his features contorted in pure agony. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Nymera preparing to run toward the Pure.

“It’s Kaelric!” shouts Azrakiel. “Don’t let him wrap you in his shadows!”

I walk backward, fleeing from his power. I think of reaching for the threads of his soul, but I know that then I’d be at the mercy of the nightmares he could drag me into. Behind me I hear a howl and realize I have nowhere to run. Azrakiel tries unsuccessfully to free his companions from that state of agony. I look farther ahead until I see Luois doing everything he can to keep Walter alive, annihilating anyone who gets too close. Not far away is Caelum, whose brutality can only come from nothing less than a broken heart.

When I think I have no other choice but to risk cutting Kaelric’s threads or those of the shapeshifter behind me, the flames of an arrow almost consumed in a corpse spread toward me, forming a circle around me. Confusion quickly fades when I see Luca’s small figure rise from the fire. She gives me a sad smile.

“You are not alone, dear.”

“Never,” I reply, feeling a sting in my eyes.

“Let’s put an end to this disaster so you can go home, shall we?”

I nod, holding back the knot in my throat.

“Will we both return together?”

“And Evren too.”

But it sounds like a lie.

The Phoenix’s small body shifts from dawn-orange to a bright red, the flames of her hair rising taller and fiercer, and little by little the fire spreads across the battlefield, forming a finely woven net that cages its victims in flames so powerful they disintegrate anyone who dares to cross. I close my eyes against the force of the fire, for a moment thinking I’ll melt because of it. An agonizing sound erupts from the throat of the shapeshifter who had threatened to be my end, and when I open my eyes again I realize that the circle of flames that kept me safe has disappeared, leaving me a clear path, unlike the rest of our enemies. Kaelric is trapped in a kind of cage of fire that shrinks smaller and smaller with each passing second.

I could run toward Ragna; instead, I stand watching as the countdown of the one responsible for my heart breaking a little more today reaches its end. His hair is the first to brush the flames, consumed immediately. I do not look away, no matter how horrible or revolting it is. The fire kisses his arms, burning flesh to bone. It’s almost as if the Phoenix were directing the flames and offering me a front-row show. The last thing the fire devours is his face, eating every piece until only his eyes remain. Eyes that long ago lost the power of sight, but now seem to be staring straight at me.

“These flames are only the beginning of what I hope will be an eternity of burning,” I murmur. “Take your gift and yourself back where you belong.”

Though before me in no time there is only a pile of ashes, the fire continues to burn for several minutes until its strength weakens. There are still shapeshifters standing, though many more now rest on the ground, burned or torn apart.

I make eye contact with Ragna, we are face to face, dozens of meters apart. She throws me a crooked smile, very sure of herself knowing that having no soul makes her immune to my gift. Yet my gift is not the only thing I can use against her. I have my hands, my legs, my fangs. My body can kill if you infuse it with enough rage, and right now I think I could explode. As soon as I give the first signs of wanting to advance toward her, the ground trembles beneath my feet and what seem to be the strong, deep roots of a tree lunge at me. I dodge them by leaping back, but the owner of that gift doesn’t give up, forcing me to waste my energy.

The noise of battle is fading and my heart begs me to check if my people are still standing, but it’s impossible. I leap from side to side without stopping, avoiding the roots that try to catch me.

“Use us.”

A chorus of voices seems to whisper in my ear, but if I look behind me or at my side, there is no one.

“We’re here, ready for you to use us.”

I blink, thinking perhaps exhaustion is playing tricks on me. The distraction makes me stumble and fall face-first to the ground. I retreat clumsily, sharp stones digging into my palms, knowing this mistake is going to cost me dearly. I search for the one responsible for these roots pursuing me and just as I find him, I see Azrakiel approaching him, swinging his sword in a circle. I close my eyes and my fingers dig into the ground just as the sound of a head rolling across the floor pounds in my ears.

An abrasive sensation spreads through my veins and I stifle a gasp of surprise in my throat when the ground continues to shake, no matter that the culprit has fallen under Azrakiel’s sword. The earth quakes, furious, as if ready to swallow us all. If so, I will not let it happen until Ragna falls under my hands. I am more than determined to rise and resume what I was about to start, but then something seems to seize my wrist and pin me against the ground. At first I don’t see it, but little by little, my eyes distinguish what appear to be hands holding mine.

“Carry death with you.”

The hands only pull harder, forcing my palm to press against the ground. The tremor doesn’t stop, in fact it becomes so intense that I’m sure we only have minutes before it swallows us all. Instead, something far too extraordinary happens to believe it just by seeing it. Figures I don’t recognize, people I cannot name, rise from the earth. Their appearance is not normal, their skin is grayish and they are not entirely corporeal. They resemble clouds of smoke that would vanish if I blew too hard. All of them seem to be waiting for an order to follow, and I’m not sure if I am the one meant to give it.

“Of course you are, soul-devourer…