Page 180 of Vicious Is My Throne

I blinked at the new—and completely unexpected—voice in my head.

Melodic and serene, Sylvi recited, No weapon forged by mortal hands will cleanse these blighted, ruined lands…To end the dark, the world to cure, a broken heart, intentions pure.

The last time I’d heard those words, she’d been masquerading as Bexley. But beyond Gelvira’s frantically thrashing form, a tiny figure waited inside the opening in the wall, a nest of wild white hair framing her lined face.

Don’t stand there gaping at me, girl. Keep her busy. I will reforge the knife. I only need the hilt. Zorander Vayle, get moving; you’re closest, she ordered sharply. Start digging, Commander.

Zor crept toward the pile of tumbled ice, crouching down, his gaze pinned on Gelvira. She sensed the movement, twisting in his direction.

“It must chafe knowing you couldn’t save your brother from a bunch of worthless mortals.”

Stupid thing to say, but she swung back towards me, focusing all that ice-cold rage with single-minded purpose.

“Mortals you brought together, no less. I wonder if he secretly cursed you while I was turning him into an ashy husk?”

She said distract her, Anaria, not piss her off, Raziel muttered into my head.

Well, she’s distracted, I thought back. Behind her looming form, Zor pawed through the pile of crushed ice, searching for the broken weapon, though gods knew how that would help us now.

“I am going to strip your flesh from your bones,” Gelvira said matter-of-factly. “Then I’ll kill every last one of your…”

She pivoted to take in the room, only to find two of her victims gone. The air sucked from the cave as she gathered her power.

A wall of ice exploded out of me and plowed into Gelvira, ripping her free from the frozen pool, leaving a trail of black, torn…parts behind, writhing frantically. I slammed her against the back wall of the cave and pinned her there, the cave—the entire mountain—shaking around us, rock crumbling as the entrance collapsed completely, cutting off the light.

Will a roar, Tristan filled the cave with glowing sparks.

Sylvi stepped free of the dark crevice, Zorander tossing her the broken sword on her way past.

“Hold her still.” Churning darkness whipped around us, my ears hollowing out as I fed more and more magic into keeping my sister pinned. She screeched furiously, thrashing against the wall, rock splintering and cracking.

Before that dark, raging form, Sylvi lifted the broken blade into the air, her lips moving as a phantom breeze circled her, filled with a constellation of stars and glowing embers. The broken pieces of mithirium flew through the air, and as we watched, the blade was reforged, cracks melting together, the ground rocking beneath our feet.

This whole damn cave might just collapse after all.

Get Tavion out, I thought, then Zorander was hauling him toward the crack. Tristan guarded their retreat, sending short bursts of flame to counter Gelvira’s consuming shadows that escaped my icy attack. My darklings streaked across the floor and wound themselves around my legs.

Not helping.

“Don’t stop, Anaria.” Raz wrapped his arms around me tighter as I fed more magic into making sure my sister didn’t escape. Ready to drag me away, I realized, but where would we go when the only way out was that narrow crevice?

Sylvi hoisted the reforged weapon higher, and the air in the cave went quiet, the hair on the back of my neck rising. “I made an oath to free this world.” Her voice rang against the silence.

“I swore I would not stop until this world was safe.” Inside that hollow place in the blade, a rageful star ignited. “Others joined the fight. Many have fallen, but we have never given up.”

Out of pure instinct, I flung out my hand and sent a ribbon of power straight into the blade. Cold as the heart of our dead world, light erupted, blazing like a beacon.

I squinted against that dazzling light, focused on Sylvi’s tiny figure outlined by Gelvira’s hulking blackness. My body shook beneath the effort of keeping her pinned, as she strained to crush the wizened witch in front of her.

“This is for them.” Sylvi’s words rang through the cavernous dark before she moved—faster than I thought possible—and plunged the sword deep into the center of that writhing darkness, starlight rippling like lightning through that depthless black.

Gelvira’s panicked scream ripped through me—a wail that transcended worlds and time—a shriek of pure hatred that had some primal instinct telling me to run.

“Look,” Raz breathed. “Oh gods.”

Sylvi was frozen in place.

Not frozen, turning to stone. Like in my vision, her body was hardening, that ferocious expression carved into her face, as overhead, Gelvira flaked apart, little curling bits of ash raining down, glowing faintly around the edges.

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