Page 199 of The Trials of Ophelia

But there wasn’t one. Not now. Not as Kakias’s magic speared toward the mountains, our camp.

And it was in the silver lining his eyes, the slow blinks to keep emotion at bay, that I knew he’d let me do what I needed.

“I’ll be right here,” he promised, voice strong for the both of us as he took the jar from Rina with one hand, the other holding my cheek, and flicked off the cap. “Right here, apeagna.”

As I looked at the magic inside, its depths toxic and tarred, I promised I’d return to Tolek.

“I love you, Tolek,” I said, fear rattling my words, cracking his resolved stare. “Infinitely.”

“Come back,” he pleaded.

And I tossed the sticky, sour remnants of Kakias’s power we’d cut from my arm down my throat, throwing myself into a void of warring Angel ether.

Chapter Sixty-Nine

Malakai

“What is that?” Mila gasped, guarding my back.

I whirled as the Engrossian before me fell over the edge of the lookout.

Clouds formed on the horizon, thunder booming through the air. But snow already coated the ground, crunching beneath my boots as I brought my sword down again.

Death hung over the valley. Soulguiders shouted at the pressures of departing lives, many of them fleeing as their visions took over, making them vulnerable. Erista and Quil stayed before Jezebel.

Below the lookout, the battle raged. Forms ascended the cliff face as we beat them down.

“We’ll deal with it,” I promised, but my skin itched at the rolling darkness, spreading too quickly toward the mountains.

From the direction of the Mindshaper capital. Where?—

“Oh fucking, Angels,” I panted.

And I knew from the wide eyes in her dirt-streaked face: Mila recognized it, too.

The thick, breaching darkness that had clung to the canopy of the Gennium Forest while we were in Firebird’s Field. The same that flooded the Fytar Trench as we raced to our friends, and whipped around, untamed, as Tolek sliced open Ophelia’s arm and the queen collapsed.

It was that roiling, congealed source of power.

“What the fuck is that?” Lyria growled, joining us at the cliff edge. Winds whipped around us. Across the valley, the Engrossians swarmed one of the peaks, drowning the league of Seawatchers and Soulguiders stationed there.

“A gift from the queen,” I murmured, dread solid in my gut.

Soaring toward the battlefield, like a being with wings extending into the night, it came.

And as it reached the valley, it rained upon her soldiers, instilling them with more energy.

“Jezebel?!” Erista shrieked behind us.

And I spun?—

To find Jezzie sprawled on the ground.

Chapter Seventy

Ophelia

I was being shredded in half.

---