Page 88 of The Midnight Death Match
The light that has been building around us reaches its crescendo—a gentle flowering, like the sun finally breaking through clouds that have covered the sky for too long. It touches every face in the chamber, every surface, every shadow, not destroying but transforming. The darkness becomes something natural, balanced, part of the greater whole rather than a corruption of it.
In that light, I can see the faces around me clearly for the first time. The fear is still there, but it’s balanced now by wonder, by the recognition that something profound has changed. Thechildren’s eyes are bright with their returning magic, but it’s controlled, purposeful, no longer the wild hunger of the curse but the natural power of their heritage.
And when I step down from the center of the mosaic, the light doesn’t fade. It settles into the stones, into the walls, into the very air of the chamber. The rotunda will never be dark again—not because the light is forced or artificial, but because it has remembered what it was always meant to be.
No one looks away as I descend. The light continues to grow, spreading beyond the chamber, beyond the tower, into the streets of Mirendel itself. What matters is the sound of children’s laughter echoing from the square outside—not the desperate, brittle laughter of those who have nothing left to lose, but the genuine joy of those who have found something to believe in.
The darkness is not destroyed, but balanced, made part of a greater whole. And in the heart of Mirendel, light and shadow dance together in patterns that speak of hope, of healing, of the kind of magic that builds rather than breaks.
And the light I carry will be enough.
Chapter
Thirty-Two
The windbeneath Sapphire’s wings carries the scent of renewal as we approach Courtsview. From my perch on the dragon’s back, I can see the fae settlement’s crystalline spires catching the afternoon light, their faceted surfaces casting rainbow fragments across the surrounding meadows. After weeks of tending to Einar’s funeral rites and helping Harek care for the dragons in their grief, the prospect of witnessing Courtsview’s magical healing feels like the first ray of hope since my father’s sacrifice.
Vash flies alongside us, his midnight scales rippling as Harek guides him in a gentle spiral toward the landing meadow outside the town’s shimmering walls. The dragons have barely eaten since my father’s death, and I hope seeing the fae’s restoration magic might kindle something in the grieving creatures. It’s a long shot, given Mirendel’s renewal didn’t do anything for them, but I’m holding out hope.
As we descend, both dragons suddenly stiffen, their flight patterns shifting from graceful glides to sharp, agitated banks. Sapphire’s massive head swings left and right, nostrils flaring.A low rumble builds in her chest—not the contented purr they make when soaring, but something darker.
“Something’s wrong,” Harek calls across the wind, his voice full of concern.
I feel it too. A wrongness in the air that makes my own instincts prickle and my wolf side pace restlessly beneath my skin. The meadow below looks peaceful enough, but the dragons’ unease is unmistakable.
We land with heavy thuds, the dragons’ claws digging furrows in the soft earth. The moment my boots touch ground, figures emerge from the tree line like ghosts materializing from shadow. Too many, and they’re armed.
At their head walk two men who make my heart clench with betrayal, though I shouldn’t be surprised.
Leif moves with the confident stride he’s had since he learned to walk. His hand rests on his sword hilt, and his eyes hold none of their old warmth. Beside him, Gunnar’s weathered face is set in grim determination, his pale eyes cold as midwinter ice. Behind them come at least thirty fighters—a mix of humans and fae, weapons drawn, faces twisted with fear and hatred.
I scan the perimeter for any of my other siblings. None are in the group. I send up a silent prayer that they’re safely tucked in Skoro’s walls, far from this face off.
“Stand down, corruption,” Gunnar’s voice carries across the meadow with the authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed. “Your taint ends here.”
My wolf snarls beneath my skin while my hunter mind catalogs threats and escape routes. I crouch as Harek dismounts Vash with fluid grace. The dragons flank us, massive forms radiating barely contained fury.
“Leif,” I call to my brother, my voice steady despite the chaos in my chest. “Why do this?”
My brother’s jaw works as if chewing bitter words. “You know what this is! You’ve brought darkness to every place you’ve touched. Mother’s death, the fae attacks, and the corruption spreading through the northern settlements. It all traces back to you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Enough!” Gunnar’s bellow cuts through my protest. “We’ve heard the reports, seen the evidence. You consort with beasts, practice magics, and now you bring dragons to threaten peaceful settlements. The corruption in your blood has finally consumed you.”
I feel the familiar split trying to tear me apart—hunter logic warring with wolf instinct, both sides of my nature pulling in different directions when I face danger. The hunter wants to analyze, plan, find a diplomatic solution before needing to kill. The wolf wants to bare fangs and fight. Now. Regardless of family ties.
But then I see the absolute certainty in Gunnar’s eyes, the way his grip tightens on his weapon. This isn’t fear speaking, but cold calculation. He means to kill me, and he feels no remorse about it.
He couldn’t do it when I thought I was only human, and I’m certainly not going to let him now.
“Stand aside, corruption,” one of the fae calls out, his voice ringing with otherworldly authority. “Submit to judgment, and perhaps your companions will be spared.”
Behind me, Vash’s rumble deepens to a roar that shakes leaves from nearby trees. Sapphire answers with her own cry, a sound like crystal shattering. The dragons don’t retreat. They’ve lost one member of their family already and won’t lose another.
“Eira!” Harek’s voice is tight with controlled urgency. “Movement on the walls.”
I glance toward Courtsview’s crystal barriers, where many are gathered along the ramparts. For a heart-stopping moment, I think they’re more enemies, but then I catch sight of familiar faces. Lys, the scholars, and rebel soldiers. Fae who have fought beside me before, who know my worth. They’re armed, and their numbers have grown.
