Page 142 of The Eternal Mirror
How much longer can I go on? How much more can I give?
Then a blast of magic hits Wrath, and we’re tumbling fast to the ground. Wrath somehow manages to right himself before we hit, but we’re down. He roars, and the ground shakes. His wings spread, but I slip from his back as he launches again into the sky. I push forward, holding on, fire burning in both palms, my whole body singing with magic. I weave between attackers, striking fast and hard. My shoulder gets clipped—a blade maybe. It doesn’t matter. I don’t stop.
All I can see is Khronus.
From behind him, witches approach, carrying the splinter. And I pause, too far to do anything. I can’t destroy it, I’m not ready to give up yet. I promised Zayne I would give everything I have. And if I destroy the splinter, the Mirror will never be whole.
The witches raise the splinter.
The Mirrorshivers.
And then—like a starving thing finally fed—it draws the splinter into itself. One moment, the sliver glints in the moonlight. The next, it’s gone.
The Mirror hums, deep and resonant, vibrating in my bones. Its rings spin faster, sharper, a pulse of pure creation flooding the clearing like a heartbeat.
It’s whole now. Towering. Unstoppable.
Chapter 55
One Last Choice
Khronus stands at the base of the Mirror, as if he’s posing for a painting. Still. Composed. Power ripples off him like heat waves. He doesn’t lift a finger. He doesn’t need to.
I push harder. More fire. Then I reach deeper—into the pain and drag out a flame I didn’t know I had. My fingertips crackle. My vision swims.
I aim straight for him.
And slam into that fucking invisible wall.
My magic rebounds, knocking me on my ass and scorching the grass. He turns slowly and looks at me. Raises his hand. But at that moment, I’m plucked from the ground, and the bolt of magic hits harmlessly into the grass where I stood. My shoulder screams as Wrath flies us away from the fire and the shrieks of the dying.
And Khronus watches me. Unblinking. Like a god observing insects.
Wrath lowers me to the ground, and I fall to my knees. We’re distant enough from the clearing that the screams are muted. A moment later, Wrath sets down, and Khaos is back.
He closes the space between us, cups my face between his hands, and kisses me. There’s a desperation in his touch. He knows this is the end. As do I.
Khronus’s wards are too strong.
I throw back my head and scream in frustration.
Then I take a deep breath and blink the blood out of my eyes. I must have hit my head at some point, but all the aches and pains are blurring into one.
“Shift,” he says. “It will heal the wounds.”
But I don’t dare, not this close to Khronus in case he can snatch control of Frenzy. My fingers twitch. I try to stand, but the world won't hold still.
I stagger and fall to my knees.
My magic is almost gone. If I use more—even to heal myself, then I’ll have nothing left. Nothing to use for my last act of destruction.
I look at Khaos, and he nods.
I force myself to my feet. Khaos wraps an arm around me, and together we stagger back toward the clearing and the Eternal Mirror. My final destiny.
Bodies lie everywhere. Some of them are still moving. Most of them are not. So much death.
Smoke is rolling across the glade. It tastes like blood and ash and magic gone sour.
