Chapter 199: Into the Borderland
The storm had passed, but the dead didn’t rest.
Cassian lay still in Aryia’s arms, breath faint but steady, his skin pale and slick with blood. Around them, the ground was littered with the remains of the Sombrosi assassins, twisted shadows and ash piles that once wore flesh. The magic used to resurrect them left a foul, static taste in the air and the echoes of their screeches still haunted the cracked stone walls.
Vincent knelt beside the pair, eyes scanning the shadows as if expecting them to rise again. Isla stood several paces ahead, her golden eyes fixed on the northern pass. Her face was streaked with soot and blood, but her spine hadn’t wavered once since the chaos ended. Damian, silent and coiled like a storm held just beneath skin, hovered near her, the remnants of his Umbrazin energy still visible in the veins along his neck.
“They’ll come again,” Isla said, in a low but certain tone.
No one disagreed. The Sombrosi weren’t soldiers anymore, they were instruments. Puppets bound by pain, reanimated through blood rites that bled through realms and the Elders would not stop sending them. Especially, not after this turn of events.
Aryia’s voice cracked. “Thank the Gods, he’s alive.” She repeated it like a chant, rocking slightly, her hand trembling over Cassian’s chest. “I heard his voice through the Veil. I thought I’d lost him.”
Brienne crouched beside her, quietly wrapping Aryia’s wound with a length of cloth torn from her own tunic. She didn’t speak because she didn’t need to. There was a war in Aryia’s eyes and no words could soothe the cost of almost losing your mate.
Vincent rose and moved toward Isla. “We need to go,” he said.
“Where?” Isla asked, her voice hoarse. “Back to the southern range? To Hollow Ridge?”
“No,” Raven said, appearing from the smoke and wreckage like a spirit. “The Borderland is closest and it’s neutral ground. At least for now.”
Alaine looked up sharply. “The Borderland? That’s suicide. It’s barely held together by old pacts. If the Elders suspect we’re headed there…”
“They already suspect everything,” Vincent interrupted. “Valkan’s forces are moving east. He’ll try to reclaim Hollow Ridge once he’s reinforced.”
Isla stiffened. “So that’s his game. Maedor was the distraction.”
“It worked,” Damian growled, arms folded across his chest. “We fell for it.”
“No,” Isla said. “We bought time. Aryia saved Cassian and now we know their numbers. That they’re using the undead.”
“The Sombrosi,” Raven murmured. “They weren’t just killed. They were tortured and burned out from within. The Elders used forbidden and ancient magic. This wasn’t just resurrection. It was desecration.”
Brienne stood, eyes narrowing. “So what do we do? We hide in the Borderland and wait?”
“No,” Isla said. “We gather, heal and we gather all the information we can. Starting with Marcus.”
At his name, a quiet dread settled over the group. Valkan might’ve been the invisible blade, but Marcus was the architect, the shadow in the throne room of their nightmares.
“The Cradle,” Vincent said softly. “He’ll return here. It’s the only place strong enough to hold his power. He will want to destroy it once and for all.”
“Yes but staying here means death for us all…we must continue. This place is lost to all souls now.”
Isla turned toward Damian, and for a moment, the rage in him flickered under her gaze. “You’ve seen it too,” she said. “The symbols. The way the magic twists.”
He nodded slowly. “They’re preparing for something. A ritual… or a summoning. I saw it in the fire. The symbols Serel carved weren’t just protective, they were directional. Something is being called through.”
Silence fell.
Then Aryia’s voice, ragged but clear: “Then we cut the tether. Before it arrives.”
They traveled under the cover of dusk, keeping close to the ruined paths that led into the Borderland. The air grew colder and thinner with each step. Magic was heavier and wilder here. Vincent reached out and Brienne took his hand instinctively, not for comfort, but connection. The Borderland didn’t recognize allegiance, only power. Isla was beginning to realize just how much of that power she held.
When they reached the ridge overlooking the valley, Raven was the first to speak. “This was once sanctuary. Before the Elders bled it dry.”
Below, the ruins of what had once been a great fortress loomed, half-sunken and half-consumed by forest and vine. At the center, a tower still stood, its top snapped like a broken blade.
“The ruins at Hollow Ridge will be guarded,” Brienne said. “The Elders don’t make the same mistake twice.”
Isla didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze lingered on the mountain’s edge, where storm clouds gathered like wolves waiting to pounce.
“We’ll strike before they do, or at least what is left of them,” she said.
Vincent blinked. “You want to take Hollow Ridge?”
“No,” Isla said. “I want to burn it. Erase every sigil, every altar. If that’s where Marcus plans were to finish his work, we don’t let them have the ground.”
Damian stepped forward, a flicker of pride in his expression. “Then we’ll do it together.”
“And if the Shadow-born show up?” Alaine asked.
Isla turned to her, eyes steady. “Then we remind them who still bleeds and who doesn’t have to.”
A long silence. Then Raven murmured, “You’ve changed.”
“No,” Isla said. “I’m just recognising who I really am.”
They set up camp in the stone remnants of what had once been a sanctuary shrine. Cassian rested under watch, his breathing more even, though he hadn’t woken. Aryia hadn’t moved from his side. Brienne stood sentry, back to a twisted oak, her eyes always scanning. Isla stood at the edge, watching the wind shift like ghosts.
Damian joined her as the last light fell.
“You lead now,” he said. “…they will follow.”
“I don’t know if I want them to,” she replied quietly. “I didn’t ask for it.”
“But you earned it… you were born for this, my love,” he said.
They stood in silence for a time, the wind curling around them like smoke.
Then Isla spoke again. “When this is over. If we live. I want peace.”
He looked at her, something unreadable in his eyes. “Then let’s make sure we live.”
She didn’t turn toward him, but her hand found his and warmly intertwined as if neither of them were able to ever let go.
Down below, the Borderland waited and Hollow Ridge smoldered like a memory that refused to die.