Page 60 of Of Realms and Chaos

Shah stood, coming into clearer view the closer she got. Whatever this room was, she knew it well to be walking so gracefully in the dark. And as if our nearness made her realize exactly what was happening, she sighed, finally speaking to me.

“Breathe, Asher. You must breathe through it, or those demons—pardon my term—will eat you alive.” Her voice sounded far away, like words shouted down a tunnel.

My soul felt weak and dim, like a candle nearly snuffed out, burning on a spent wick. What I would give to simply stop. To take this aching pain in my chest and pounding beat in my head and shut it all off.

“Asher, you cannot let yourself fall. You are a queen. You are a survivor. Do not let them win.” And then Shah’s arms were around me, her larger build and height allowing her to embrace me fully. She smelled divine, like lemon and lavender, both invigorating and lulling. This would not be a horrible place to die, in the arms of someone who understood. “You will not die.”

Had I said that out loud? What a ridiculous thing to say. She probably thought me mad. Maybe I was. Perhaps whatever evil magic was inside of me was slowly stripping me of my sanity now that it had taken so much of my conscience.

“Breathe.” Shah’s voice was soft, her accent as soothing as the hand that stroked my hair.

Just then, so eerily similar to how it had on sentencing days, rain began to fall. The sound of it hitting the castle drowned out my mental voice, allowing me a lull long enough to take in a desperate breath of air, the first full one since Bellamy had left. Had that been minutes ago? Or hours?

Shah shushed me, her hand moving down to rub circles on my back as my sobs slowed. Through each breath, I told myself to morph the sorrow into something else, just as I promised I would when on Padon’s throne.

Turn it into rage. Turn it into vengeance. Anything other than the gaping hole of torment and sadness in my chest.

And so I did.

Chapter Twenty

Bellamy

The most interesting thing about war was choosing which side to fight for. Whichever one picked would say more about who they were than any misdeed or act of service. Laying down one’s life for a cause was something that took absolute conviction.

Well, normally it did.

Perhaps that was why portaling into a battle zone did not spark the kind of hatred it should. Because, as I landed in Grishel, I was met with the sight of fae warriors forced to fight for a cause—a realm—they likely did not fully believe in. Led by royals who cared little that they sent many of them to die today.

Hot air met my face, my armor still dirty from the battle yesterday, leaving the scent of warming blood to fester. The desert of Grishel was not a friendly place to those who were foreign to its scorching weather. Like the gold-clad soldiers ahead, I was not built for the heat. It made me slower than normal, a feeling that unsettled me as I portaled once more, landing in the center of the fray.

One thing that was immediately clear was that our side was losing. This was the largest battalion Betovere had sent, at least a thousand soldiers fighting under the fae banner.

Over the years, I had learned that my fae powers could be conjured from nothing, just like an Element. However, it took more out of me to create something from nothing, rather than utilize what was around me. Which was why, as I crafted shards of ice, my chest burned. Hundreds of them rose into the air, aiming for the waiting second line of defense in the distance.

Calling to the wind, I willed the ice to fly. At first, the fae there did not notice, all bearing witness to the fight that they smugly thought they would win. It was not until a shouted warning came from the single soldier that stood slightly ahead that they realized what was coming for them.

Many attempted to raise their shields, the thick golden protection far too heavy to lift in time. Ice tore through flesh, my aim true as over half of them fell with frozen weapons embedded into their faces.

And then I was moving once more, my sword of inky flames burning through armor and bone.

Noe appeared at my side momentarily, whips of hardened shadow wrapping around necks and beheading soldiers. She was strong, her magic able to form tangible objects in ways that many could not. Her father had cultivated and abused it in the hopes of forging his own weapon. But now, she wielded herself, not allowing anyone to control her ever again.

Her screams of fury were loud as she watched a Shifter rip off the arm of a demon, the female shrieking in agony before the fae sunk its teeth into her face. When Noe jumped onto the panther’s back, digging her fingers into its fur like claws and forcing her Moon magic into it, I let out a wicked and throaty chuckle. The Shifter was dead before it hit the ground.

The moment of distraction cost me, a blade skimming across my cheek before I could dodge it fully. My helmetless head reared back, the pain making me hiss through my teeth. I knew I forgot something.

An arrow found its new home in the fae’s eye just as I lifted my sword. For a moment she remained standing with her mouth agape, but then she crumpled, her body limp. I turned, seeing Lian behind me and feeling the rush of her Air power rumple my hair. She had dropped her bow, opting to use wind to send the arrows careening, never missing. She attributed her power to her uncanny ability to wield weapons, but I knew the truth. It was pure fury and dedication that got her where she was.

Instead of allowing myself to be distracted again, I summoned my flames, further deepening that inner ache as I brought a second sword to the air. Kicking my foot into the chest of a Golden Guard, the force of my blow sent him flying into one of his comrades. A nearby demon bent down, shoving a dagger into each of their foreheads.

Without hesitation, I moved on, cutting them down as quickly as I could. There was only so much I could manage with my fae abilities when my soldiers were in such close proximity to my enemies, which left me utilizing my sword far more than normal. Still, I pushed forward, dodging shadows, light, water, air, fire, and earth. Shifters also littered the space, most of them Multiples that could take on any form they would like. The benefit to that was their waning energy, the power it took to shift limiting them.

After slicing through seven more soldiers, I came to an abrupt halt at the sight of a familiar face. One I should not know. One that would not know me.

Farai Sibanda.

His dual-toned skin was just as striking as his white eyes, the frenzy within them palpable. As the scorching sun lit up the ivory parts of his face, making the distinction between the dark brown portions starker, the image of Asher’s smile as she told me how much she adored the Shifter and his ethereal beauty came to me. I wondered if, perhaps, one day Asher would forgive me for this cruelty. For stealing away a friend she had described with such detail to me in a Fire Lands cave.

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