KANE
IT WAS THE SOUND I’D waited over fifty years for—and the most horrible one I’d ever hear.
My eyes blinked open and only Griffin knelt before me. His eyes were ringed in red.
No.
Perhaps I’d said the word out loud. Perhaps I’d pleaded— It didn’t matter.
I couldn’t think.
Not with the screeching, the roaring, the beastly skyborne howls of pain.
Not when I didn’t know who they were splitting from.
I took off in the direction of that sound, Griffin bellowing after me.
The clamor of men’s warfare had all but faded. But those of the battle in the skies—those screeches and that clashing only grew louder. My feet propelled me through icy fog and trampled over packed snow and the errant branch or twig. Only pale light from a magnanimous harvest moon lit my pursuit, gilding every leaf and trunk and frozen patch of pond water in silver.
I couldn’t see much of their fight through the dense tree cover. Only flashes of a rippling gray wingspan and…
And something golden.
Like molten embers glowing in the dark night sky.
And through a clearing of trees—
My bird. A gleaming, feathered firebird. Mighty as the dawn, lit with rapturous fire.
A phoenix.
Of course. My heart kicked up speed as did my legs. Faster, faster—
A hideous rip of agony sounded through the night, shaking the trees, dousing me in snow that slid under my collar and down my neck. I hurtled around wide, old trunks.
Another wail of agony. Feminine, melodic, haunting— The sound of a dying bird.
I knew then it was the sound I’d hear every night for the rest of my living days.
It was the sound of my soul being severed.
My roar shook the ground. Toppled oaks. Rent through the clearing and the soil and the roots beneath my knees. I craned my neck up—
I couldn’t fucking see—
But in the end, I wouldn’t have to. One moment, a roar I knew in my soul to be my father’s split the night like an axe through wood, and the next…
The next moment the entire night sky lit as if it were a robust, crackling flame. Every corner of the world above us, where stars and moonlight and serene darkness lived, replaced by blinding white and gold and shocking red. A sunset in the dead of night.
I squinted, bringing my hand up to shield my eyes as I ran. I knew I wasn’t the only one—I could hear it in the absence of metal on metal, the hush of war cries, the lack of sure footing as men halted their plunder.
Silence across the woods. Silence save for the twin deaths above us and my feet pounding on the ground.
Silence in my mind as well.
I slowed. Could not suck in a single inhale around the agony. My fists funneling wicked black lighte through the ground until trees toppled to the snowy earth.
Fury and utter despair straining until I could taste the pain in my throat and across my tongue. More heart-wrenching, more crippling, more excruciating than anything. Beyond anything. Somehow worse than when I’d lost her in Hemlock Isle. Because I’d found her again. I’d fallen more in love with the woman. I’d married her.
And because I’d had a single stupid glimmer of hope. A single shot at taking on the burden on her behalf. And I’d wasted it.
I roared at the injustice.
We had not exchanged enough words. Had not laughed enough. Hadn’t kissed or fought or slept in too late or memorized each other enough.
We hadn’t lived. We’d only ever just survived.
I hadn’t realized I was weeping until salt froze upon my cheeks.
She wanted this. She wanted this—
It was no consolation. I was too selfish. Too broken. I didn’t care. My grief bent from me in wide, gruesome arcs.
Her life, her beautiful, vibrant life—extinguished. And my soul, collapsing on itself.
And when I was spent, on my knees, hacking against the frozen, bald earth, the sky was pitch-black once more. Starless and desolate. The thunder above already faded into howling wind. Snow fell from the sky and landed across my head and nose. Smoke scented the air.
No—
Not snow. Ash.
Ash was raining from the sky.
The ashes of my father. And of the woman I loved.
Come back to me, I begged. I’m nothing without you.
A single ragged inhale sounded behind me. It was Griffin. His pained face, when I craned my neck back, eyes wet and churning. His mouth that muttered I’m sorry.
I almost told him to go back to the keep. That I’d stay out here for the next few hours. The next few months. That they could all return to the world Arwen had left for them—
But I couldn’t disappear inside my grief. I owed myself to my people. Knew I had to shake the hands of the men who lived, and mourn the ones we’d lost. Lay planks of wood and plant new saplings and spread the news across the continent, on behalf of Onyx, that we’d won.
As the man they’d knelt for. Their king and their victor.
Though what victor allowed the woman he loved to deliver the dying blow and lose her life because of it, I didn’t know.
All I knew was a single, ferocious desire to end my life and find her in whatever awaited us next. I’d lived too damn long.
From far behind us, a single high-pitched voice cut through my sorrow. “How…” Mari uttered. “I don’t understand…”
And then Griffin, drawing closer behind me. “Kane—”
Their voices weren’t consoling. Not broken, not hollow. No, they both sounded…overcome.
My eyes were nearly swollen shut, but I fought to pry them open.
I’d leveled the forest with my rage. The remaining gnarled tree trunks and spindly branches glowed an unearthly pale blue as the very first pools of sunlight filtered in from the east.
And through the valley of felled trees, we had a clear sight to the vision ahead.
Utter awe sang through my body at the glistening white glen before me. An iridescent sprawl rippling across the forest—one of soft, fresh snow and beads of morning dew bejeweling each branch and leaf. A pearly, eternal scene, bathed in morning light and night’s still, blue shadows.
And at the very center: Arwen.
Slumped over atop the powder—eyes closed, lashes dusted in snow.
Lips violet and dark hair fanned around her, pale skin brushed with ash.
Serene, silent, wholly bare— And breathing.
