Page 108 of Skyshade
She gathered the remaining power in the center of her chest—and set it free.
Oro’s flames—fire tinged in blue—exploded out of her, filling the tunnel of the town. It raged, eating the bloodless soldiers, burning them, until their bodies came apart before her. When it all ran out, she could barely breathe, and only singed armor remained. She folded over, chest heaving.
A crash sounded behind her, and she whirled around, hands up, ready to strike—only to find Wraith standing in the middle of the town.
Grim was on his back.
She was in his arms in a moment.
He looked her over frantically. “We searched everywhere. Lynx was tracking your scent—”
She didn’t realize she was crying until Grim frowned and wiped her ears away, cupping her face. “Heart,” he said steadily. “Who took you?”
She told him everything. Who the traitor was. What she looked like. What happened when Isla delivered what should have been a dozen deaths upon her.
Grim had been right. The recent deaths...it hadn’t been her.
It had been something far worse. “This army...it falls only to rise again. Even with limbs missing. Even with their heads missing.”
“I know. Hundreds of people are dead.”
“Then her army will only grow.”
She looked around at the injured villagers. The blood painting the streets. The screams and cries surrounding them.
Her power was spent; she felt ready to collapse, but they couldn’t leave the other villages defenseless. “We need to go,” she said. Grim nodded.
They raced to get on Wraith’s back, and then they were off.
Nightshade had been overtaken. Every single village was being swarmed by soldiers. They were everywhere, like an endless plague, worse than the storms.
“Call back your forces,” she told Grim. “Portal any of your people in our path away. So we don’t end up killing them all.”
Grim did.
She watched them retreat, building up her strength. Calling upon her skyre, using it to leech her of more power, to fill her with all that was left.
Then, from Wraith’s back, they both raged. Fire met shadow and killed everything in its path.
She knew Grim was one of the most powerful rulers. She had seen him fight. Still, she hadn’t been prepared to watch his shadows swallow the world. They rippled across the entirety of his land, devouring everything for miles. Even the trees were cut down, the ground wiped clean.
He could skin the world clean of life. She could see that. It might have scared her before, but now she almost smiled, watching the soldiers become nothing. Watching everything become nothing.
Her shadows joined his, filling in every gap, until they formed a united wall, an endless surge that made the ground itself tremble infear. She threw all of herself into it, every bit of pain and fury and pulse of the skyre. Isla screamed as the power was scraped out of her, as every bit seemed to be eaten up.
“You’re going to hurt yourself,” Grim said, but she kept going. Children were dying. Innocents. She heard their screams, and they mixed with the ones she’d heard in her head constantly for months.
They landed in another village, and she started to fight with a shimmering starblade, formed from energy. Everything in her path died. Over and over and over she fought, blinded by purpose and rage. She used every ability in her arsenal, and when one was snuffed out—sapped to the dregs—she reached for another. And another. She fought, and depleted her power, until it was just a whisper, and then she used her swords.
She didn’t stop until Wraith was behind her again and Grim’s hand was on her hip. She whipped around to find him covered in dirt and blood.
She realized with horror it was his; the soldiers couldn’t bleed. She raced to find a major wound, but it was mainly cuts.
“They’re gone, heart,” he said.
“What?”
“They just...left. Like they had been called off. Their bodies went straight through the ground.”
