Page 106 of Skyshade
Anger formed a flame in her heart as her power surged forward. But her ancestor was impossible to kill. The best thing she could do now is get as much information as possible, anything she could possibly use to defeat her.
“And me?” Isla dared ask.
She understood the prophet-followers’ warning now. Lark was the Wildling traitor that wanted her dead. Not Terra. Not Poppy. Not Wren. Not any of her subjects.
Lark was the one who killed the nightbane. She was the one who turned up the graves. She was the one who killed those people.
She was the true snake-queen.
Her voice was emotionless. “I planned to kill you too, but you might be more useful to me alive. You have access to all the realms’ power.” She looked at her as if she could see through her. “The heart of Lightlark has marked you. I can feel its energy. I need its power to create a new world. You will help me find it.”
How could she believe Isla would give up on her world so easily? “I’ll never help you. I don’t care if you’re my blood.”
Lark tilted her head. “Is that true? You’re so lonely. I can see it all over your face. You’re alone in this world, Isla. No one understands you. You’re a traitor everywhere.”
How could she know that?
“I know you better than you think,” Lark said, smiling. “You are so much like me. You have no idea.”
Isla bared her teeth. “I would never kill innocents for power.”
“Oh? But haven’t you?”
She felt like she couldn’t breathe. Suddenly, the darkness, the muskiness of the rock, the narrowness of the underground...it felt like the world was closing around her.
“I can give you life, Isla,” Lark said, and time seemed to still.
The word was barely a whisper. “What?”
“I can save you. You have seen what I can do.”
She had seen.
She wanted to live, she wanted to save Nightshade. But not at the cost of this world.
Isla needed to warn Grim. Oro. They had no idea what had been awoken. They had no idea what was coming.
“Think about it,” Lark said, seeming to know what was going to happen next.
Isla reached above and formed a tunnel in the ground, her skyre directing her Wildling abilities, sharpening them. She crashed through the rock until she surfaced, sunlight spilling all around her. She was panting, her heartbeat like a merciless drum in her chest. She coughed up dirt.
This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.
Isla turned. The Nightshade castle glimmered in the distance.
It was surrounded by an army. Grim’s army, just as Astria had said. They wore the black shining armor.
She took a deep breath, then shot into the air toward the keep, using her Skyling power. She landed roughly on the steps in front of the door, guarding it from the coup. Searching for Astria or Grim.
She barely got her arms up before a weapon was upon her. She felt the force of the blow through the crown of her head as her blade rushed up to meet a sword longer than her leg. She wasn’t prepared—she wasn’t in armor.
The warrior went to skewer her through the stomach, but she whirled to the side and cut off his hand with a blade-like slice of Starling energy. It fell to the floor, and she stole his sword.
She expected blood. Screaming. Cursing.
Instead, the warrior’s hand fell, and he didn’t even look like he noticed. He kept advancing.
This was not Grim’s army.
