Toward dawning light, p.53
Toward Dawning Light, page 53
No aetherium.
Solana threw Astrea off her, sending her sprawling to her back. She shoved to her feet.
White panic pulsed in the air as someone shouted, “Astrea!”
Not Jin.
Solana cried out, crumpling to her knees. Her attention shifted to Astrea’s right, toward the palace. Lucian skidded down the side of the training ring, one hand outstretched as he controlled Solana and the other gripping his weapon. Behind him came white hair and a gust of wind that knocked Solana to the ground.
Zephyrine and Lucian.
They’d come.
But where was everyone else?
Astrea winced as she tried to move. Blood coated her leg. She forced her hand to her thigh, closing her eyes as mirror healing and pain warred on her skin. It was too much. It was all too much.
Confident she’d stopped the worst of the bleeding, Astrea rolled over to her knees, then pushed up higher.
And there, above her, Jin tackled Nazarov to the ground. Wispy tendrils of shadow began circling them both.
Astrea ran. She ignored the pulsing in her freshly healed thigh. She ignored the sharp stab to her heart and the flicker of energy behind her that winked out as someone died.
She ignored it all.
Scrambling the last few paces up the training ring wall, Astrea threw herself on top of Jin just as the void sucked the three of them in again.
As they landed with a thunk, Jin rolled off Nazarov and shielded Astrea with his body. Nazarov jumped them again and again, a blur of shadow and trees taking over Astrea’s vision, mixing with the pain and making her nauseated. When they stopped again, Nazarov shoved them both away hard.
Pain pulsed against every inch of Astrea’s body. Crackling burns and sharp wounds, thudding aches and bruises. She took only a second to look Jin over; it was all they had. He wasn’t untouched, his tan skin marred by burns and cuts. Exhaustion crashed into her, whether hers or his or both, she couldn’t tell.
But Nazarov wasn’t untouched either. He stalked toward them both, chest heaving. Blood trickled down both sides of his face, and his skin was blistered. His armor was torn in places, and blood leaked through, harsh red against the gray leather.
They were deep within the palace gardens, on soft grass and amid thick trees and shrubs. No one ever came back here. Not really. Jin and Astrea had always run this deep into the grounds as children when trying to get away from Kaius and the guards.
Jin pulled Astrea up with him and didn’t let go. But his grip was weaker than it should’ve been. He drew in one ragged breath, then another. Heat built around his whole body, so much Astrea was afraid he might set them both on fire.
“You two have fucked with me for the last time,” Nazarov snarled. “You will not take this from me. Helosia is mine! The continent is mine!”
“You’re done, Nazarov,” Jin said. “You’ve lost. Solana’s dead. Kaius is dead. Half your fucking army is dead by now. You overplayed your hand.”
“I did not!” Nazarov screamed, spit flying from his mouth. “I still have options.”
Heat continued building around Jin as crimson rage and anger covered his body. “There is nothing left! You lost!”
Nazarov’s eyes darkened. “We’ll see about that.”
He sprinted, closing the gap between them. He pulled his arm back, something metallic glinting in the rays of the rising sun.
Jin stepped in front of Astrea, the heat around him growing and growing until flames sparked in the air. “Az! Shield!”
Oh, skies. Oh, he was going to try to use his Sunreaper abilities, when he was so beaten—
She slammed her hands against his back. The muscles in his shoulders flexed and twitched as the heat surrounding him tripled, painful against her exposed skin. Astrea’s hands began to glow, white starlight mixing with red and orange flames.
Her skin ached, and her muscles spasmed as magic coursed through her. She opened herself to it, nothing more than a guide as she poured more light into Jin. As his fatigue shrank, hers grew, but she held tight to him, unable to move. It was like they were bound together, linked by the energy flowing from her and into him.
That cold moved closer, closer, closer.
She braced herself, thinking of every good thing she could.
The Nikaphoroses and all the years they’d spent as one family, them and her and Saros. Tending to Sarsali’s roses with her. Taste testing Balthazar’s new recipes. Keeping Cressida company while she tinkered with her latest projects.
Eliana’s fierce support over the years, her ability to always get a rise out of anyone nearby and make Astrea laugh. Nicos’s steady and quiet friendship.
Adi’s love for life, his constant curiosity. The way he cared about everyone, including stony Marko. And Marko’s attempts to keep them all at arm’s length, only to be broken down. His favorite color being green.
The cold moved, no longer in front of Astrea but behind. She shivered.
Lennor and Civan and Noemi, new friends. Lennor’s energy, Civan’s understanding, Noemi’s determination. Zephyrine’s wisdom and Lucian’s steadfastness.
Jin’s tender love. The way he always made her feel safe. How he had always accepted her as she was, never trying to change her or make her fit into what he thought was right. How he let her just be and tried to support her however he could. She could even feel it now, beneath the rage and panic and raw power. That sunshine, ever present on her skin.
The cold moved again, away from Astrea and toward Jin. It bounced around and around and around, so fast she couldn’t keep track.
Astrea’s light grew brighter and brighter, impossible to look at. Her eyes closed as red overtook the glowing starlight.
The world exploded. Jin exploded. The ground shook, and everything went dark.
Chapter 59
Chunks of earth and grass fell around them. Nearby trees and shrubs crackled and smoked as fire ate away at them. Black smoke swirled in the air, choking Astrea.
Pain flared in her shoulder, emanating down her back and around her ribs. She fell to her knees. The dirt beneath her crunched and crumbled, completely dry. Chunks of her armor cracked, dried out by all those flames. She pushed them away, trying to get a better look at the wound in her shoulder. With all the soot, she couldn’t quite tell what had hit her. A rock, maybe?
Later, she promised herself.
They needed to finish this first.
Jin staggered forward, his breaths uneven. Nazarov was sprawled out on the ground, not fifty feet from where Jin had blown them all up. Even through the haze of smoke and dust, Astrea could make out Nazarov’s burns, the blood covering him where his armor had been eaten away. Her entire body ached, like she had been set on fire.
Nazarov barely rolled onto his back, hacking and wheezing as he cursed.
“I told you,” Jin said, stooping over him, “that you overplayed your hand.” He grabbed Nazarov by the front of his armor and pulled him up. Nazarov screamed. “I told you that you lost.”
A fiery dagger took shape in Jin’s hand.
“Don’t you want to show mercy?” Nazarov asked, coughing between each word. His cracked lips bled. “Your wife is . . . watching.”
“This is merciful. You deserve far worse than this, Nazarov.”
Nazarov opened his mouth to reply. His arm twitched.
“Look away, Az,” Jin said. “Shield yourself.”
Astrea had nothing left to give. Nothing. All she could feel was that pain radiating down her back, blood following its path. But she fumbled for her barrier, pulling it back and back until she felt nothing at all.
And she didn’t look away. She would not. Not this time.
Nazarov’s lips quirked up into a smile, and he threw his arm out toward Astrea. Something flew toward her as he said, “Say goodbye to the little Light—”
The tip of a small dagger pierced Astrea’s skin, sliding through the opening between the metal plates covering her chest and shoulder. It burrowed right beneath her collarbone, burning her skin on contact. Hot and cold, warring fire and ice. Astrea yanked the metal free.
Jin shoved his fiery blade straight into Nazarov’s heart. He screamed so loud it covered Astrea’s cry, so loud she thought her ears would bleed. The smell of burning flesh carried on the breeze. Nazarov writhed, but Jin held him tight, forcing the dagger deeper and deeper.
And it was only when Nazarov stopped screaming—stopped moving—that Jin’s dagger dissipated into tendrils of smoke, like blown-out birthday candles. He shoved Nazarov to the ground, lifeless.
Victor Nazarov was dead.
Kaius.
Caliban.
Solana.
Nazarov.
All dead.
The mission . . .
Astrea collapsed onto her side and closed her eyes as that terrible void magic ate her from the inside out.
“Az!” Jin drew closer, calling her name again. Panic exploded in the air, hot against Astrea’s blazing cheeks.
“I’m alright,” she whispered as he fell to the ground next to her.
“Hey, Az, look at me,” Jin said, his breath hot on her skin. His hands pressed against her bleeding wound, and she cried out. “Az . . . Az!”
She forced her eyes open, finding his, the most brilliant gold flecked with amber made even more brilliant by the soot streaking his face. “He’s dead,” she said.
“He’s dead,” Jin said, taking her face in his hands. “He’s dead, and you’re dying.”
“We completed the mission,” she whispered, forcing her hand from the dry dirt to where his pressed painfully against her collarbone.
He barely smiled at her. “We need to go. I need to get you to a healer, Az.”
“I’m a healer.”
“Aetherium,” Jin said, voice trembling. “You can’t have anything left. You can’t. I felt what you did for me. We need to get you to a healer.”
Astrea had nothing left to give, but she had no time.
She’d given everything to take Nazarov down, and he’d still gotten her.
He couldn’t win. Not like that.
Nazarov could not win.
She had fought too hard. Jin had fought too hard. She could not let Nazarov win, even in his death.
Her veins burned. Her muscles spasmed. Her light inched forward, brilliant and blinding.
“Tell me something good,” she whispered. “Please.”
“You,” Jin said, the answer quick, sharp. He pressed her hand against her chest with his, his skin rough and warm. “You, Az.” Sunshine warmed her skin. “You’re the best skies damned thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“That’s . . . not specific,” she groaned.
A tight, sad laugh left him. “Smart-ass.”
One side of her mouth quirked up as she pushed her light deeper. “You like it.”
“I like you,” he said. “I love you, Astrea Sovna, and you’re not dying on me today.”
“No,” she agreed, “I’m not.”
He pressed her hand down harder. His palms warmed. Astrea sucked in one breath, then another, as the cold eating her alive retreated.
Pink love and purple reverence swirled around Jin. They mixed with the dawn sky, one of the most beautiful things Astrea had ever seen. And she took them, letting them settle in her chest and make their home near her heart.
“I love you,” she whispered.
“Hold on, Az,” Jin said. “Hold on.”
But she was already floating.
Warm sunshine skittered across Astrea’s skin as she strolled through the gardens with Saros.
They were unusually quiet, especially for the afternoon. No guards in their crisp red uniforms. No aristocrats in their over-the-top outfits or businesspeople in their stylish linen suits. No seagulls overhead, crying out for attention. Not even the honk of cars in the city beyond.
“I’m going to miss this place,” Saros said. His usual pensive expression was different, too. His shoulders were relaxed. There were no dark circles under his eyes. He even smiled, a real, broad smile.
“What do you mean?” Astrea asked.
“I can’t wait to see what it will become,” he said. “But there’s much to do before then. You and your friends have your work cut out for you.”
“What do you mean?” she asked again. “Where will you be?”
“Oh, my dear,” Saros said with a laugh, “it’s time for you to go home now.”
“Uncle?” Astrea asked as the image began to fade. “Uncle?”
Astrea gasped, her back and body arching off the ground. Someone pushed her down.
“Hold on, Az,” Jin said.
More hands pressed against her, strong, unyielding hands. Light glowed so bright she had to tilt her head away and close her eyes.
Energy flowed through her limbs, from her head all the way down to her toes. It was both agonizing and comforting, a terrible pain and great relief. She cried out, and Jin pushed her down harder, trying to hold her still.
“Fuck,” Lucian groaned as he pulled his hands away. The light died, and he fell back against the ground with a distinct thud.
“Lucian?” Astrea asked, voice rough as if someone had scratched her throat with sandpaper. “Jin?”
“It’s alright, Az,” Jin said, collapsing on top of her. “It’s alright.”
Tears pricked her eyes. She wasn’t dead.
The aetherium hadn’t gotten her.
No, this had to be real. The feeling of Jin’s skin on hers, the morning sky, Lucian’s muttered curses.
She was alive.
Nazarov was dead.
She was safe. They were safe.
“Where’s everyone?” she asked.
“Dealing with the fallout,” Lucian mumbled.
“Are they hurt? I saw Nicos get hurt.”
“He’s fine,” Lucian said. “He’ll survive.”
Exhaustion weighed Astrea down more than Jin’s embrace. It tugged at her eyelids, her mind, her body.
“You healed me,” Astrea said to the commander.
“You did most of the work,” Lucian replied with a wry smile. “I simply finished cleaning up the mess.”
Astrea sucked in an agonizing, shuddering breath. “I’m so tired.”
“Go to sleep,” Jin said. “I’ll get you back.”
“No. Help me up.”
“Az—”
“Help me up,” she said again. “Nazarov can’t win.”
“He’s dead,” Jin said even as he helped her sit up. “He’s really, really dead, Az.”
“I know, but . . .” How did she explain this? Skies, her head hurt. Pain pinged around inside her skull—hers and Lucian’s both, she was fairly certain. “Nazarov didn’t want me to walk out of this fight. So I’m going to.”
“Stubborn,” Jin said, peach amusement flaring bright around him and coating Astrea’s tongue in sugary sweetness.
Groaning again, Lucian sat up, too. He ran his hands through his hair, which hung loose around his shoulders and was covered in dirt and flecks of grass. He looked worse for the wear, all bloodied and beaten, skin sallow and shoulders slumped. He looked about as good as Astrea felt.
Still, with Jin’s help, Astrea got to her feet. She steadied herself against him.
This had once been a beautiful, lush part of the Kalamian palace gardens. A perfect place to hide as children, now turned into a battlefield.
Obliterated, really.
The trees and foliage were just charred trunks and remnants of what they had once been. The thick green grass had been completely burned away, replaced by ash and the driest dirt.
All Jin’s doing.
Well, Astrea had helped in her own way.
And there, fifty feet away, was Nazarov. A burnt, bloodied, beaten version of who he once was. He lay motionless. Astrea sensed nothing from him. No cold. No hate. Nothing but the quietness of death.
They had really won.
Astrea straightened, wincing as her thigh twinged and shoulder burned. They may have hurt, but that pain meant she was alive.
She looked first at Lucian, then Jin, and forced a smile. “Let’s go.”
Chapter 60
The three of them limped through the Kalamian palace gardens, away from that burnt, destroyed section and into the pristine part by the barracks. They passed the training ring where they’d just fought Nazarov, and a few guards dressed in Novarian blue and Helosian red were draping a sheet over Solana’s body.
The morning sun crawled higher overhead, painting the sky a mix of lavender, pink, tangerine, and blue. The light almost gleamed off the marble palace, which was marked by splatters of dirt, blood, and gunpowder.
And there, sprinting down the steps of the veranda, was Adi. Cressida. Marko. Lennor. Civan. All were bloodied, bruised, and haggard—but alive and running toward them.
“Az!” Cressida cried, throwing herself past Adi and into Astrea.
Astrea and Jin barely caught her, holding her tight. “Hey, Cress,” Astrea managed to say past the lump in her throat.
“What happened?” Adi asked, taking Lucian’s place on Astrea’s other side and helping hold her up.
“He’s dead,” Astrea said past the burning in her throat. “Nazarov’s dead.”
“But what happened?” Cressida asked. “It felt like the palace walls were going to come down.”
“Let’s get Az to a healer first, then I’ll fill you in,” Jin said. “And I need a fucking drink.”
At that, Adi actually laughed, a deep, warm sound. Affection and pride rolled over Astrea’s aching skin. Lucian may have helped ward off the worst of her injuries, but every step she took was agony.
Civan ran ahead of them, back into the palace, and yelled for medics. Despite Astrea’s protests, Jin ended up scooping her into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way. Inside was a flurry of chaos. Coalition forces were dealing with whom Astrea could only assume were Kaius’s stalwart supporters based on the way they were being arrested. She spotted Zephyrine speaking with more Helosians, all of whom radiated minty relief. Had they surrendered when they realized Eliana was there?
