Page 209 of Mountain of Mirrors and Starlight
“Wake up, Caer.”
He did not move. The tendrils snaked towards him, licking at his skin. If he didn’t wake up, if she couldn’t get him out soon…
Aislinn shook him. “Come on,” she said. “I brought you back, once. You’ve saved me twice. You are not allowed to stay here. I forbid it.”
He remained motionless inside the coffin. Smoke gathered around them both. They pulled at his body, snagging at both of them.
Aislinn bent towards him. “You have my heart, Caer. You’ve always had it. From the moment you drew breath, my heart beat alongside yours.”Mine, mine. From your first breath to my last.“Sowake up.”
She pressed her lips to his in a final, desperate attempt, her eyes closed and flushed with tears. It could not end like this. It wouldn’t.
“I love you, Caer.”
Caer’s eyes flickered open. “I love you, too, cariad.”
Caershotoutofthe Mirror inside the unlatched coffin, outside in seconds, Aislinn behind him. He hit the hard stone floor of the vault. The room was swamped with people, fae, dwarf, and mortal, all fighting each other. Tiberius had arrived, and more dwarves seemed to be fighting against their former allies. It was impossible to tell who was winning.
Aislinn wasted no time in finding a blade and racing back into the fray, but Caer paused, thinking.
There were so many dead. And below them, sleeping in the crypts… more dead, too.
His powers were back. The barrier was out, and something else wriggled beneath his skin, light and bright and burning.
The Mirror was supposed to take his powers. He wondered if the reverse wasn’t actually true.
“Ais,” he said, “can you crack the floor?”
Ais didn’t ask why. She slammed her fists against the tile, fissures exploding at her touch.
A section of floor slid into the crypt below, a tidal wave of gems and gold. Many screamed, scrambling for the exit, their protests cut short under the crushing weight of the treasure.
Caer flung out his power into the mass of bodies. Tombs cracked, headstones shattered, and bodies crawled out of the room.
Dozens. Hundreds.
Many scrambled for the crypt entrances, running from skeletal claws and gaping maws. Caer stood on a broken tomb, watching his creations. It was like he could see through every eye, could direct each one that remained with his sight.Only the dwarves,he ordered,but spare these precious few. Spare as many as you can.
Through the ruin, Caer spied Owen, looking on in horror. It occurred to Caer that his stepfather hadn’t witnessed his powers first hand, or at very least, not like this. He stared at the newly resurrected body of one of his soldiers.
“They’re dead,” he muttered, “they’re actually dead—”
An arrow soared past Caer’s head. He leapt from his platform, searching for cover, a weapon, something. A soldier towered over him, sword swinging—
Owen leapt forward, intercepting the blade. He pushed the soldier back. Aislinn dived towards him, slicing the back of the soldier’s legs. She moved on to another.
Caer stared at Owen. He was not usually one for involving himself in battle.
“It’s true, isn’t it?” Owen asked, staring around at the chaos. “She genuinely can’t come back?”
Caer looked down, shaking his head. “Whatever Aeron told you, or showed you… it wasn’t the truth. He canlie.”
Owen opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, but quickly shut it again. “I’m sorry,” he said instead. “I just… I so desperately wanted—”
Another figure rose up behind him, but Caer raced forward, knocking them to the ground and grabbing their face, snuffing out their lifeforce.
Something pulsed inside him. A hard, painful tug.
He turned his attention to the Mirror.
