Page 90 of Shadow and Smite

I lunged for his side. His skin had turned gray. As I watched, the blemish trickled upward, reaching his forehead. It already covered his fingertips.

My hand went to my heart, finding my Brand.

Zayneseemeddead. But he wasn’t—not really, right? He was only in the Underworld. He had to be alive, he had to be. His Brand…

The satchel of ashflower was still in his hand. I picked it up, unsure of what to do.

“Zayne—is he okay?” The question rose from the throne, the voice sweet and lilting. “Wh-what happened?”

Eleanor sat upon her throne, a queen. She seemed the same, yet all at once different. The root-cuff remained on her wrist, now disconnected from the throne.

The sight should have filled me with awe—but there was no time. She had shadow magic. Zayne needed help. She could help him better than me.

I blinked away tears and shoved the satchel into her hands. “The ashflower, it’s for you. Zayne has been branded, and you need to save him.”

38 | Ashflower

Zayne

“Shade’s Brand, come to me.” The voice was meek, the sound shallow. So very, very far away.

I battled an army of Shades eager to shove my soul in the jar, seal me away, and control my body.

I told them to stop. I commanded it. Sometimes they listened—but there were so many that my sway only held for so long.

With Inarus gone, the Shades were sloppy. They would attack and then forget their motivation. They wandered off without warning.

It was like herding cats that hungered for my soul.

Through the chaos, I heard Eleanor, just barely. From here, her command was soft as a whisper.

My sister had no experience with necromancy, no aptitude. Yet she was now the queen, and no form of shadow magic would elude her.

The Shadow Queen.I knew it from the essence of her words. My twin had survived the rite; she had risen reborn. My duty was fulfilled, and I could let go…

The Firewolf’s signature of bonfire and cinnamon merged with the lilac of Eleanor’s magic. Ninti was safe, but there was no hint of cherry, of spice—no whisper from Ayla.

Worry rubbed my wounds. I was still raw from losing Sandra. If I survived but Ayla didn’t, guilt might consume me again.

Fear and grief gripped me, and the Shades played their advantage. They pushed me closer to the jar, closing in. They whispered their dark reminder, becoming a chorus, “Darkness is inevitable.” I lost my footing, I fell back—

“Shade’s Brand, come to me,” Eleanor said again.

I embraced the words. I held the crystal skull. There was something important I had to do…

There was hope in the little things—the way Ayla grinned when she called me a princeling, the feel of our stolen kisses, and my remaining promise of a dance. I wrapped my memories around my soul, shielding myself against the onslaught of Shades.

I inhaled, inviting the ashflower’s power into me. I exhaled, pushing the Brand away. Again, I breathed. And another time, again.

My battle had three fronts. I guarded my mind against the Shades while commanding them to stay still in the Living Realm. I forced the Brand from my flesh.

The work consumed my mind.

Under duress, I created order. The Shades were easier to command when organized into troops. I assigned my Gray Generals, and my command over the Shades solidified.

My fingers relaxed as I learned to carry the crystal skull without clutching. The work became less resistive, and I steadied in the flow of my power.

I became the Shades’ leader. Their necromancer. As my control solidified, their interest in my Brand waned. My Brand became a remnant of their fallen master, and I became their new commander.

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