Page 314 of Kingdom of Ash

As the Thirteen, their broken bodies scattered around the tower in a near-circle, made the Yielding as well.

Light. They all burned with it. Radiated it.

Light that flowed from their souls, their fierce hearts as they gave themselves over to that power. Became incandescent with it.

Asterin tackled the Blackbeak Matron to the ground, Manon’s grandmother little more than a shadow against the brightness. Then little more than a scrap of hate and memory as Asterin exploded.

As she and the Thirteen Yielded completely, and blew themselves and the witch tower to smithereens.

CHAPTER 90

Manon sank to the stones of the castle battlements and did not move for a long, long while.

She didn’t hear those who spoke to her, who touched her shoulder. Didn’t feel the cold.

The sun arced and descended.

At some point, she lay down upon the stones, curled against the wall. When she awoke, a wing had covered her, and warm breath whispered across her head as Abraxos dozed.

She had no words in her. Nothing but a ringing silence.

Manon got to her feet, easing past the wing that had shielded her.

The dawn was breaking.

And where that witch tower had stood, where the army had been, only blasted earth remained.

Morath had drawn back. Far back.

The city and walls still stood.

She roused Abraxos with a hand to his side.

He couldn’t fly, not yet, so they walked together.

Down the battlement steps. Out through the castle gates and into the city streets beyond.

She didn’t care that others followed. More and more of them.

The streets were filled with blood and rubble, all of it gilded by the rising sun.

She didn’t feel the warmth of that sun on her face while they walked through the southern gate and onto the plain beyond. She didn’t care that someone had opened the gate for them.

At her side, Abraxos nudged aside piles of Valg soldiers, clearing a path for her. For all those who trailed in their wake.

It was so quiet. Inside her, and on the plain.

So quiet, and empty.

Manon crossed the still battlefield. Didn’t stop until she reached the center of the blast radius. Until she stood in its heart.

Not a trace of the tower. Or those who had been in it, around it. Even the stones had been melted into nothing.

Not a trace of the Thirteen, or their brave, noble wyverns.

Manon fell to her knees.

Ashes rose, fluttering, soft as snow as they clung to the tears on her face.

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