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“When the attack came, everyone at the temple retreated to the tunnels beneath the mountain. They knew they couldn’t defend against a full-scale dragon attack with such a small number.” Onyx’s voice trembled. “Everyone retreated. Everyone but Tourmaline. She ordered everyone to take cover in the tunnels, and she fought to give them time to escape.”

A tear slid down Onyx’s cheek. “One of the survivors said he got one last glimpse of Tourmaline before entering the tunnels. He said he saw her hurling boulders, yelling, ‘For the glory of the Grey Mountains!’ Then he saw her consumed by dragonfire.” Onyx closed his eyes. More tears slid down his cheeks.

“When I close my eyes, I can still picture her on the day we came into our powers,” Onyx said. “There was a tower at the Mystic Mountain Temple. A thin tower with a bell at the top. You were only allowed to go up and ring the bell when you came into your powers for the first time.”

Onyx could see it now in his head. “She ran up the stairs ahead of me, trying to beat me to the top.”

A broken laugh escaped him. “She glanced back, dark hair whipping around her shoulders, smiling and laughing. But when she reached the top before me, she didn’t ring the bell first. We just paused and looked out over the mountains. We rang the bell together.”

A sob left Onyx. “Now she’s gone. The temple is gone. The tower is gone. Everything is gone.”

“I’m so sorry,” Luther whispered.

Onyx wiped at his eyes and turned toward Luther. He froze.

Luther’s face had gone pale. Horror was written in the lines of his face. “Onyx, I’m so, so sorry.”

An icy numbness swept through Onyx’s body.

Because for a moment, Onyx had forgotten who he spoke to. He’d forgotten who the man beside him actually was. He’d been too focused on the fact that Luther was his husband, that he was developing feelings for Luther, and that he was falling in love with the man.

And somehow, he’d managed to push the truth aside. Because the truth was Luther was an enemy. A dragon. And it had been dragons who’d destroyed the world he loved.

“I’m so sorry, Onyx.” Luther hesitated. “I?—”

No. No.Onyx shook his head. “Don’t say it,” he pleaded. He didn’t want to hear what Luther was about to say.

“I was there when your temple was destroyed. I was part of the attack.”

ChapterFifty-Two

“I’m sorry, Onyx.” Luther repeated the words, but he heard them as if from far away. His ears rang. The world around Luther felt dizzy and light-headed.

Luther’s own memories rushed forward, his own painful past rearing inside his head. His recollections mingled with the memories Onyx shared.

Luther tried to make sense of it all, tried to fit their pasts together. It felt like Onyx’s pain poured on top of Luther’s. But they couldn’t mix. Like oil and water, their pain, their memories—they were incompatible. They were opposing forces that could not meld and make peace.

Just like Onyx and Luther themselves.

From the start, they had been enemies. They’d tried to pretend they could move forward from that and be happy together. But they could not erase the violence of their shared past.

No matter how much Luther and Onyx might wish for it.

“I’m so sorry,” Luther babbled.

“No.” Onyx kept shaking his head.

“But I was there,” Luther said.

“Don’t say that. Stop saying that!” Onyx yelled as if the force of his words could make them true.

Luther didn’t recall the name of the mountain temple. And there’d been so many battles. So many destroyed temples. So many lives lost.

He’d never known when Onyx’s sister had died or the circumstances. Although, with a sinking realisation, Luther realised he had. He’d just forgotten. And now he knew why.

Because the day Onyx’s sister had died was the worst day of Luther’s life, and he’d been too consumed by that to properly register anything else. Everything else had just faded into the background as unimportant. It seemed the worst day of Luther’s life was probably also the worst day of Onyx’s.

Onyx’s face twisted into a sneer.