Death in Ruin

By Mayté Losada

Sivrehya, Ivar and the others find themselves in Pyatov in hopes to save her brother, Daemon, from the clutches of the chaos mages. But, soon enough, they find out the devastation the country and its people have faced and learn that the Shao Yun Islands are next. Time is winding down, the threat of the Da

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mayté Losada
• Release date: Nov 28, 2023
• ISBN: 9798985240153

Mayté Losada

Mayté is the author of the A Darkness So Blessed and Wicked Series. In her spare time, she enjoys photography, traveling and testing new recipes. She was born in Switzerland and grew up in about four other places. Currently, she resides in New York City.

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DEATH IN RUIN

MAYTÉ LOSADA

KWE PUBLISHING

Losada, Mayté. Death in Ruin.

Copyright © 2023 by Mayté Losada

All rights reserved.

ISBNs: 97989852401-4-6 hardcover 97989852401-5-3 ebook

Library of Congress Catalog Number: 2023912219

First Edition. All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means — including by not limited to electronic, mechanical, digital, photocopy, recording, scanning, blogging or other — except for brief quotations in critical reviews, blogs, or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher, KWE Publishing.

You can find Mayté at: maytelosada.com or on Instagram @maytelosada_

Jacket art and design © 2023 Moonpress Design.

Photo by Mayté Losada.

Published by KWE Publishing: www.kwepub.com

For those daring enough to hope...

PREFACE

Spend enough time with the Darkness and a curious thing happens. But not in the way it has always been told. For you see, one does not find the Darkness suddenly staring back at them; instead, they find out it always was.

Maehra Solavon Rithloren

Matron Queen of the Kingdom of Meris

World Map

CONTENTS

Prologue

I

II : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

III : IVAR THAEGAN

IV : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

V : IVAR THAEGAN

VI

VII : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

VIII : RHIANNYN RITHLOREN

IX

X : IVAR THAEGAN

XI : AMARIANNA WYSTERIAN

XII : RHIANNYN RITHLOREN

XIII : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

XIV : IVAR THAEGAN

XV : IVAR THAEGAN

XVI : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

XVII : RHIANNYN RITHLOREN

XVIII : AMARIANNA WYSTERIAN

XIX : IVAR THAEGAN

XX

XXI : RHIANNYN RITHLOREN

XXII : IVAR THAEGAN

XXIII : SIVRREHYA RITHLOREN

XXIV

XXV : AMARIANNA WYSTERIAN

XXVI : IVAR THAEGAN

XXVII : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

XXVIII : RHIANNYN RITHLOREN

XXIX : IVAR THAEGAN

XXX

XXXI : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

XXXII : IVAR THAEGAN

XXXIII

XXXIV : RHIANNYN RITHLOREN

XXXV : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

XXXVI

XXXVII : IVAR THAEGAN

XXXVIII : RHIANNYN RITHLOREN

XXXIX

XL : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

XLI

XLII : RHIANNYN RITHLOREN

XLIII

XLIV

XLV : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

XLVI : IVAR THAEGAN

XLVII : RHIANNYN RITHLOREN

XLVIII : IVAR THAEGAN

XLIX : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

L

LI : AMARIANNA WYSTERIAN

LII : RHIANNYN RITHLOREN

LIII : IVAR THAEGAN

LIV

LV

LVI : SIVREHYRA RITHLOREN

LVII

LVIII

LIX

LX : RHIANNYN RITHLOREN

LXI : IVAR THAEGAN

LXII

LXIII : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

LXIV

LXV

LXVI

LXVII

LXVIII : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

LXIX : IVAR THAEGAN

LXX : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

LXXI

TIMELINE OF RODESSIAN HISTORY

PRONUNCIATION GUIDE

Acknowledgments

Also by Mayté Losada

PROLOGUE

She dwelled in her fury, eyes bright and relentless with the promise of dread.

He dwelled in his, magic in his soul, a sword in his hands that ran blood-red.

I

Sarajova, Pyatov

The Umbra Valor

Captain Emeris Sageor, the royal marine emissary for the kingdom of Meris, was going to die soon if he didn’t get out of the water. It was colder than ice, if that were even possible, and it surrounded him completely. That, and he was tied down with a crate and a rope wrapped around his ankle like a dead snake. He kicked at the crate, struggling to breathe. His muscles slowly froze, his blood turning to solid mush. His mind too slow to cast any form of spells. He would die, he reckoned, and he had minutes left.

The fleet had been struck just as they docked in Sarajova, Pyatov, which was no longer. In the seconds before the bloodshed began, Emeris saw the destruction. The icy streets running red, the bodies scattered around like dark mounds against the pale blue village. The sight was so ghastly that he blamed it for distracting him from the blood symbols floating on the water. The moment they cruised over them, the ships went up in bright, vicious flames. Wood split apart, cracking. Soldiers screaming their throats raw. Mages flinging themselves into the water to avoid being burned alive, others crushed by the weight of broken masts that toppled around them. The moment his ship was engulfed in fire, Emeris had reached for his dagger, cutting a shallow line on his arm. But then, a sail had fallen, crashing into the deck and straight through the hull, sending him tumbling through jagged, sharp wood that shred his coat to ribbons. He crashed into the cold water, seeing through the blue ripples his beloved Umbra Valor shriek as her sails plunged down on her as the mages leapt off her and fell down into the ocean like rain.

Now, Emeris was alone and cold, but he could not die. This fleet was under his control. Whatever remained of it. As it stood, most of it had already burned to char and sunk, sucked up by the cold damned waters of the ocean. There had to be those that survived, those desperately and stubbornly clinging onto life like he was. War loomed too close; there was simply too much to lose to perish now.

He kicked himself free. Using the last of his strength, he groaned under the waves, kicking upwards, his arms thrusting him up. He broke through the water’s surface, his face stinging and burning all at once. He whipped around, pushing dark hair from his eyes, and he took a deep breath. Ice-cold air snuck into his lungs, weighing him down, turning them to rock. He felt himself sink down. His arms frozen against the rough waves. No, he thought, a fleeting plea as his mind too began to slow. He bobbed his head, the icy water cutting his skin. No, please. But it was possible, he learned now, to be so cold you could no longer shiver. That was just being nearly dead, that last part of his functioning mind told him, just as his eyelids grew too heavy to keep open and the bright and blinding white sky turned black.

II : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

Minavich, Pyatov

When the world, if ever, ends, it won’t end suddenly, shattering apart violently or quietly like a single whisper in the wind. Rather, it will meet its end excruciatingly slow. One blood-curdling scream at a time. One bone breaking. One drop of blood dripping. One soul splintering. At least, that was how the historians of an era long since passed thought the world would end. And shivering, cold air seeping through my thick clothing as I crouched in the middle of a once lively port, now stained red, gazing at the scene that lay before me, I knew the historians were probably right.

Ivar’s hand was still in mine, through the thick gloves, I could not feel his warmth. I swallowed, taking in the sight. My nose involuntarily scrunched at the pungent odor of burning flesh and spilled blood. We were facing the icy waters that spanned in front of us until the horizon; I did not dare turn back to the village behind us. None of us seemed to.

We were, all five, hidden behind broken and cracked crates and barrels. Our faces pressed against the sodden wood, we narrowed our eyes and held our breaths, surveying the scene. No one spoke.

Daemon. Strong, tall, and usually in some shade of red, now was dressed in ugly forest green. The color, I thought as I wrinkled my nose, didn’t suit him at all. It clashed with his eyes that now were laced with far too much black from what I could see. Around him were chaos mages, but no one I recognized. Ivar, whose fingers were still interlaced with mine, kneeled beside me. Jace flanked my right, and Junah, who kneeled beside him, wrapped her thick coat tighter around herself. One side-eyed look was all it took to let me know they had seen a familiar face. I turned to Jace.

Which one?

Tallest one, he whispered, his voice but a low rasp against the cold wind that blasted suddenly through the air like a wrathful beast.

With the fiery hair, added Junah, voice trembling. He was at the camp when…

Ivar, sensing the thick silence, finished for them, voice dark and deep. Prince Arkos Wysterian. He was at the palace alongside his commander.

The commander I had killed. Flashes crept into my mind, of the man smiling, his crooked grin chilling my body when I had thought he meant I had been too late to save Ivar. He had never meant the prince’s life was what had been in danger, he had meant the camp, our soldiers, everything. I swallowed, pushing the memory deep down. Now was not the time to drown in the darkness of those thoughts. It ached my heart, like a dagger had been filed straight through it and was still stuck. But time could not be undone. Those that fell, would be avenged, I would make sure of it.

I turned back to the small hole, my eyes thinning to slits as I took in the tall chaos mage in the center of all the commotion. He too was dressed in emerald armor, his long bright hair flapping in the wind like a cape. Silhouettes of ships spotted the distance, other ships were closer, and some were still docked.

Shao Yun Islands, I thought, gulping. The map Junah, Erik, and Zale had found in the camp had shown a path carved from freshly spreading ink. I didn’t know where the portal had dumped us, but I was nearly certain the chaos mage fleet wouldn’t head back to Rodessa after Pyatov. I stilled suddenly, my blood colder than the air. If the chaos mages were departing, if they were moving on...that could only mean one thing. No. I closed my eyes, steadying my pacing heart. Pyatov was likely gone. We were too late. Again. My chest tightened, the world tilting beneath me despite Pyatov’s foundation being built of solid stone. The camp, Pyatov. I wondered how many lives had been ended far too soon, how many lay limp on the ground, the Darkness having swept through their lands. Cities ruined; families torn apart. My eyes began to water. I looked down, shaking my head. Rage, like a match falling in a field of dry grass, grew inside of me.

Sivrehya? Ivar’s gentle voice pulled me from my trance. I raised my head, meeting his soft gaze. His eyes darted down, to our hands and I realized I had squeezed his, so tight my own hand had begun to ache. I released my grip, muttering an apology. Before Ivar could get more out of me, Jace broke in.

We need to act fast. His voice steady, like an anchor in a storm. Those ships will take off any moment.

How long do we have? Junah asked, shifting. I saw her glance up, the thick clouds obscuring any chance of sun. She looked deflated, her gloved hand reaching for the dagger at her thigh.

Maybe five, ten minutes if we’re lucky, he answered, turning his back to the scene. I don’t know much about setting sail, but one guy just screamed ‘all aboard.’

Judging by how fast we set sail after Emeris had yelled that, I would lean more towards five minutes. I frowned, eyeing the men yank at the ropes holding the ships steadfast to the docks.

Alright, well, this was Avran, Daemon is still on the docks, there’s about fifty chaos mages total, which means about fifty more other mages. Which means one hundred.

I think we can all do basic mathematics, Jace whispered. The soul mage just rolled his eyes.

"I’d hope to the Darkness. The fact remains, those numbers aren’t in our favor. And neither is that." Avran stretched a finger through a hole, and I pressed my face against the cold wood again, trying to follow his gaze. It didn’t take long. I don’t know how I missed it before when it so clearly stuck out like a sore thumb against the pale colors of the horizon and the salt-stained boats. A cloud of unforgiving black. No tendrils struck out violently, no thundering, not even the sheer size of how it had been back in the fields. This mass of Darkness was much smaller, nearly tamed, if that could be believed.

If we ambush them, we won’t make it five feet. Jace shook his head, a war in his eyes. Probably much less if they use that damning cloud.

Great, Ivar muttered.

We snuck a stolen look, but after my impromptu kissing him, on the lips, of all places, and then cursing him to sleep in the middle of him probably trying to kiss me, I was too embarrassed to hold his gaze for longer than a second.

We could perhaps turn invisible and then quietly ambush them? Avran offered.

We still run the risk of some chaos mage seeing us. We have no way of knowing which ones can see past blood magic and which can’t. Jace spoke carefully. It might be worth a shot though.

We tossed around other ideas, precious time ticking. Wait until the ships have sailed then portal to Daemon again, so we’d only have to take on one ship and not three. But then, we’d have Arkos and the Darkness in our faces, and none of us liked those odds. The idea to go back and get backup was quickly tossed away. Run the risk of some of them seeing past the invisibility spells was what, after loads of other ideas, we finally agreed upon. Jace fashioned the spells, and one by one, each flickered from my view as I was the last to turn invisible. Once I was, they were there again. Stillness from the five of us.

Whoa. Avran glanced around, looking at all of us as well as his own hands with such awe that it seemed he had just discovered their existence. Last time, I couldn’t see Sivrehya.

I know. I blinked, curious at the magic that cloaked us from everyone else’s view but our own. What spell is this?

Invisibility, but it’s slightly different than the usual one. It’s taught to us at military training. Jace paused, crouching with a steady hand on his blade. Ready?

This plan, a terrible one and the longest of all the shots I have ever taken in my life, depended heavily on the invisibility. None of us wanted to bolt upwards only for the prince of chaos to turn and see us. Maybe he wouldn’t, maybe he couldn’t see like Marsdan Vrhain, but then, perhaps he could. So, we stayed hidden, until we all, one by one, nodded.

Junah had volunteered to cause the distraction. She said she couldn’t summon her powers, but she could snap the rope that held back fifty or more barrels from a large tilted wagon. I watched her sneak off, Ivar next to me. We paired off, one blood mage, one soul mage. Avran and Jace looped around, crawling on the ice and hardened snow toward one end of the small port. Ivar and I hung back in our place. We had finally turned our backs to the ships, ahead the village lay. Or, like I had imaged, what remained. Colorless buildings now scorched blistering black and caked red. So, so much red. My eyes flickered and darted about, catching corpses here and there, splayed at awkward angles, piled on top of each other, dangling from balconies and rooftops. It was a hideous sight, but such was war with magic. Unforgiving and deadly and cruel.

Only this hadn’t been a war. War wasn’t even what had happened at the camp. Ambush, conquering, annihilation. War was meant to be a battle; this was simply a massacre. I couldn’t help but wonder what part of Pyatov had been spared. Who had the chaos mages let live? Surely they didn’t plan on killing everyone they came in contact with. What world would they rule if they snuffed out all its life?

A loud curse, shattering the rest of the noise yanked me back to reality. Some man from the ships screamed, and slowly, others joined him. A crash, another and tumbling masses followed. Junah had snapped the rope. It was time. My eyes shifted to the ships, to where my brother stood, face unchanging as he was a statue against the rumbling barrels making their way down the port. I snuck a look back at Ivar, who was already looking at me. He held my gaze. It was determined and fierce yet soft. He cocked his head. I nodded. A hint, ghost, shadow of a smile on his lips.

And then, a hint, a ghost, a shadow of one on mine.

III : IVAR THAEGAN

Minavich, Pyatov

It was easy to forget that Junah, sweet and gentle Junah, who stuck her face in books and saw the goodness in everyone, was a mage. With the strength of one. Which is why it took me a few seconds to process the fact that she had pushed with her hands tumbling barrels into the direction of a ship. The poor thing didn’t stand a chance. The barrels tore through the mast, ripping through the walls of the ship and into the hull. Bringing down its sails as if they were mere toothpicks balancing on the surface. And invisible as she was, no one saw her do it again. Before Sivrehya or I had even stood up, a ship was already beginning its untimely descent into the icy waters. Chaos had ensued, and this time, it was our doing.

Sivrehya eyed me. Whatever embarrassment had colored her cheeks an even brighter pink was gone now. Determination glowed in her dark eyes, her brows knitted together. In her gloved hands was a spear, and floating beside her were two more, others forming as swirling ice grew on them like mold.

Ready? she whispered.

This was our plan, as chaotic and messy as the scene happening in front of us. But it was something, and right now, we’d take anything. I nodded, the hilt of my sword in hand. I didn’t think I’d use it right away. There was a sort of dance required when fighting with blades, a melodic tune of metal against metal, a sort of understanding between the people battling it out. There was none of that right now, so, I pushed my sword back firmly in the sheath. Soul magic it was. In the end, it wreaked more havoc in seconds than any blade could ever hope to.

Another crash in the distance and then a scream, blood-curdling, ear-splitting. A flash of red, of silver, of something close to fire. I peeked over the crates blocking us from view and saw Jace and Avran, advancing carefully through the port. Sivrehya finally stood up. I followed her. To our far right was Junah; she was pushing another wagon towards our direction filled with barrels.

Holy shit was all I could think before the princess climbed over the crates. I followed her, straight to where her brother was standing. Against his will. I could see it in his eyes, he had figured out his sister was here, and part of me was relieved. I watched him jump out of the way of a trio of barrels. Prince Daemon could have easily stopped them, but he didn’t, and now, another ship was going to sink. I felt my cold mouth quirk upwards just as Sivrehya brought down another chaos mage, ripping a necklace off a poor female water mage.

Avran and Jace plowed through the mess, bringing down their own chaos mages and the white, colorless village began running red once again. Fire flew in the air, quickly flickering out against the cold. Water froze, shattering in ice as it hit the ground. Flashes of silver souls being destroyed. The four of us were nearly to Daemon, who had been pulled behind the prince who was yelling out orders, trying to calm down the scene when someone yelled something along the lines of intruder. Someone pointed in my direction, and my heart plummeted to the ground. His narrowed amber eyes landed right on me. I swallowed, grasping onto the quickly thinning hope that he wasn’t one of the chaos mages who could see through magic. Perhaps he had seen a cat that had escaped the violence and climbed onto a ship. But his cold, angry gaze remained squarely on me. Fuck. He bared his teeth, his mouth moving. He was talking, to who? I inched back, seeing too late a water mage standing by the water. The chaos mage pointed a finger in my direction. The water mage raised a hand. Within seconds, bullets of water shot out from the ocean behind him.

They flashed forward, cutting through the air. A guttural scream escaped me as the solid water pelted me; sharp like filed knives, they cut shallow wounds into my thick layers. I fell back on my ass, right into a patch of hard ice. Groaning, I winced from the pain. More chaos erupted as the one great risk of our plan began unfolding itself. I crawled quickly back behind the crates, ignoring the noises, trying to think of another plan. But then, the sky became too dark, and everything became eerily quiet. My back pressed against the crate, I swallowed, closing my eyes. Darkness came over; and soon, in more ways than one. It was so quiet, I had been able to hear him so clearly say, Unleash it.

It. There could only be one it. I was not about to face it again, not after what we had been through back at the remains of the camp. But the sky had already begun turning black, wind seemingly from nowhere picked up. I covered my nose with a scarf, narrowing my eyes as the fallen snow whipped around. Through the frozen flakes on my lashes, I could see something large and ominous growing bigger and bigger.

Fuck.

IV : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

Minavich, Pyatov

Blood was running down my face. My forehead stung as the air bit into the shallow wound I would have healed if it weren’t for a group of eight water mages actively trying to drown me. I might have been invisible, but that spell was slowly flickering out. I escaped the first mass of cold water they pushed me under, but by the third, my muscles were growing sore and weak. The weight of thick and drenched clothes made my limbs move as if they were stuck in molasses. My skin prickled and burned with the cold as I freed myself of the coats. I might die from hypothermia, but right now, without the clothes, I stood a better chance. My instinct, that dark thing inside me, was fighting for me to abandon shield spells and go for something a bit more brutal. But I shoved it down, no matter how many attacks they threw at me. It was not their fault, I gritted my teeth, trying to remember. They were not the enemy; they were just forced to be.

I raised my hands, fashioning yet another shield spell, the water violently slammed into it. I tried to hold my stance, but it was too slippery, and I fell. I crawled back, sliding down a small hill, smacking straight into a barrel of something gooey and black. It spilled out slowly, like honey, and the stench of rotten eggs hit my nose.

"Fantastic."

The black goo stuck to me. My hands stained deep brown, my hair half-matted with it. I shoved one of my scarves up with my clean hand, wrapping it tightly around my nose. Groaning, I rubbed at my sore muscles with slow, trembling hands. In the few precious seconds I had left, I tried to fashion a quick healing spell, just to take away a little bit of the pain. But my fingers were too numb, my mind aching, and trying to control the blood only made the pain throb, flaring inside of me like an angry fire.

Forget it. My voice weak, I noticed the group of water mages being moved around. They stumbled around, like one of the strings controlling them like puppets was longer than the rest. One of them even looked back at me. He had curly hair like Zale, but brown, not blond. I saw regret in his eyes. His mouth hanging open as if words meant to come out, but as if a beacon of light had been turned on, they twisted around. I had become nothing to them, their game finished. Thank the Dark Mother. They hurried down to the docks. But one of them, the one with brown curls, slipped. I gasped. I didn’t need to be right by them to know he had cracked his skull open.

V : IVAR THAEGAN

Minavich, Pyatov

Avran pulled me up wordlessly. His light brown hair caked red and wild like a windstorm that hurdled straight towards him and no one else. He pointed behind me at a ship. I twisted, eyes narrowing. And I saw it. Arkos, escaping, water mages running up and climbing aboard, raising their hands. The water around them sloshed around, waves appearing so suddenly that magic could have been the only explanation. The ship lurched from the sudden current spawning beneath it.

That bastard’s leaving after unleashing the fucking Darkness on all of us. Convince me not to jump onto the boat and kill him right now. I clenched my fist so tightly that I was sure the stinging in my palm was torn skin.

You will most certainly die.

So will that shithead.

You can’t leave me alone.

You’ll figure it out.

It doesn’t matter, Avran spat back sourly. Anger flashed in his bright eyes, as he gripped my shoulder hard. I looked at him, at all the soft angles turned harsh and covered in blood. It slipped my mind how deadly he could be, a General’s second, Avran was a true sword’s master but this was not about battle. I almost lost you once back there. It’s not happening again.

His words, cold, pinning me down. I had heard faint screams when my world was blinking in and out, when my body was slowly dying, my mind lost to a chaos mage before Sivrehya had shot a spear through his skull. I had heard Avran screaming for me. Now, he stepped back, releasing his iron grip. He sniffed, wiping the crusted blood underneath his nose. Besides, think of home, the people, they can’t–

Where’s Daemon? He’s the target. Jace rushed towards us. His head swiveled on his shoulders, eyes darting around desperately. Blood trailing down in his eyes, he wiped it away, smearing it across his dark face. Did he get on the ship?

I blinked, my instincts kicking in the moment flashes of green came into my vision. I pulled my blade out, swinging it into the air, and it found its way through the flesh of a chaos mage. Screaming, eyes glowing. I lifted my hands, ignoring the scenery around me changing from a ruined village to pitch black as I crushed his soul.

Did he?! Jace yelled again, spears dancing around him, leaving dead bodies in their wake.

"I don’t fucking know!" Avran screamed, his sword screeching against someone else’s. I raised my own, bringing it down on another seething chaos mage.

There he is! someone yelled out. Jace, perhaps. I couldn’t tell; I was blinded.

Something burned me. I groaned, swatting blindly at my arm that was most certainly on fire. Suddenly, the illusion around me disappeared. I was back in the Pyatovan village, Jace and Avran running towards the escaping ship. Half of my sleeve burned off, the fur singed black and still smoking. My eyes darted around for any fire mages, but they had scattered. I picked up my sword, running towards the ship, barely evading a blood mage charging at me like a feral animal.

Quick! Quick! Jace yelled over the chaotic noise, We can portal–

In a flash, he was knocked down, tumbling face-first into the snow. A tendril of black swooped down like a manic tree branch, kicking us off our feet. I jumped out of its way just in time. It rammed itself through several bodies, and I scrambled upwards, diving behind a pile of crates. Avran slid towards me, Jace nearly slipping and falling into the water. We pressed up against each other, looking around frantically.

We can’t get on that ship, I heaved, pushing the hair from my face, there are too many mages and the Darkness is defending it.

How else will we get to the prince? Avran huffed.

Jace’s eyes remained glued on the ship. In his mind, gears were turning. His voice, both gentle and eerily quiet as if he knew how much the words would pain him to say. We lure him out?

I blinked incredulously. How?

Avran’s eyes suddenly widened. With Arkos.

Our eyes met, my brows raised. Then, I turned to Jace, who had no more words than I did. Avran shifted, setting his sword aside but still within reach. Just in case. Hear me out: Arkos is a man with flair, drama. He likes to show off–

Jace tilted his head, his eyes between us and the ship that was inching farther and farther out of reach. How do you know that?

I watched him at the palace sometimes. I’ll go into detail if we don’t die. Besides, look at what he’s wearing.

Arkos Wysterian was indeed dressed in armor that could easily be mistaken as ceremonial. The emerald-green metal shimmered even in the dull light. Covered in intricate designs, from his shoulder plates to his boots. He wore no cape; he wore a fur vest that was open and flapping behind him in the wind as his long sickly orange hair was. His hair looked like fire. I began to wonder what it would look like if I set a torch to it.

Valid point, Jace muttered, but how does him being one for grandeur help?

We manipulate him into coming off the ship; if Daemon’s tied to him, he’ll probably come off, too. It’s not a solid plan, but what else can we do?

My brows furrowed as I blew hot air into my gloves that were pressed against my nose. All this fighting, running, and screaming. My face stung, the cold biting away at my skin, my nose; nearly frozen solid. "Manipulate him how? Dark Father, it’s so cold."

Agreed. Jace nodded.

At the same time, Avran pointed at me.

"Me? Manipulate him with me?"

Yes. Avran nodded slowly. Because you’re a nice, shiny Thaegan. You’re one of the most powerful soul mage–

I smiled nervously, shifting my weight. I don’t know about–

Take the compliment, Jace cut me off, his words lighting up Avran’s face up. It’s true.

I don’t know if in this situation it’s a compliment when it means putting me up as bait, I grumbled, still blowing warm breaths into my gloves.

Avran leaned forwards. I know, I know. It is a compliment, but– Jace gave him a glaring look. Right anyway, we’re all a threat to him, but you’re even more of a threat. He’d love for a chance to fight and kill you. Let’s give it to him.

Maybe it was the cold, or maybe it was them sacrificing me to Arkos of all people, but my mouth hung open, words stubbornly refusing to come out.

Jace nodded, finally seeing Avran’s apparently genius plan unfold in front of him. It could work. Ivar, you distract him, and Avran and I grab Daemon and get the necklace off of him.

So, we’re in agreement?

I didn’t want to agree. Looking at the Vylaran prince, his hair billowing in the wind, the fucking Darkness at his fingertips, I didn’t want to fight him. I wanted to curl up in my bed.

Iv?

Both of them were looking at me expectantly. But before I could respond, something crashed into us, blowing the crates we hid behind to smithereens. I shook the splinters of wood from my hair. The three of us were crawling on slippery ice, now exposed.

Ivar! Jace yelled out, ramming into a feral chaos mage with his entire body before stabbing them just enough times not to have to look back twice in order to know they were dead. With time slipping from our hands, both Avran and I nodded, now sprinting, praying to Darkness we wouldn’t slip on the ice and crack our skulls wide open. It would be a terrible way to die in the midst of all this.

The three of us dodged spears of Darkness slicing through the air until we made it to Arkos’s ship. I took in a deep breath when the prince’s eyes landed on me. He grinned, thin lips curling upwards in a cruel smile. I steadied myself, calling back the darkness inside me, that monstrous side of me that killed and conquered and smiled back at my enemies.

Prince Ivar Thaegan of Lysmir! Arkos hollered, his voice barely loud enough to drown out the screams and groans of the battle now stretching the length of the port. He raised his arms. Behind him, Prince Daemon. He stood like a statue, still and rigid against the backdrop of Darkness. It did not lay a finger on him. I wondered how it knew not to do that. Your presence is an honor.

Finally, I bared my teeth, raising my sword. I really wish, Arkos, that I could say the same about you. But if I must be honest, you are a blade in my back.

Arkos laughed, his head thrown back. Eyes glistening, tears of joy or just the magic swimming through his soul, slowly coming to life? Your demise then? A blade in a back cannot be promising.

No. I frowned, locking eyes with him. A nuisance. Believe me, it would take more than that to finish me.

Given the fall of your so beloved kingdom, I cannot say I blame you. But to be just a nuisance, you wound me, princeling. I thought I was worthy of much nastier words.

Oh, believe me, you are, I thought venomously. But I would not give him the satisfaction. I shook my head, standing my ground as mages fell all around me. You are never taking Lysmir. Over my dead body, Arkos.

The prince cocked his head, eyes darting around before he finally turned to another chaos mage and whispered something in his ear. The chaos mage nodded, disappearing somewhere else on the deck, and then, Arkos flicked his wrist, his mouth moving, the words lost to me. But I would wager Daemon had something to do with them, as the blood mage moved towards the prince, they disappeared through a portal.

I remained poised, ready to strike in whatever direction Arkos would come charging. It happened to be my right. I dodged him, raising my arm, bringing down the blade into his furs as he slid on the hard snow. He groaned as he twisted. I yanked my sword out. Blood dripped on the white ground, a stark yet cruelly beautiful contrast.

You bastard.

"You absolute raging dick," I shot back, our blades screaming against each other.

His face red, eyes wide, veins popping out. I strained against his strength, bending my knees to push back. He twirled, blade low. I blocked. I raised mine to his chest, he blocked. A dance, sword fighting was a dance. It could be elegant, but this was anything but. This was rage and fury and war. He was good, but so was I. He was fast; I had to be faster. He wanted to win, wanted to see me die by his hand. I launched myself, yanking my dagger from its sheath and using the hard snow to slide beneath his raised arm. I swung at his face, my smaller blade drawing a thin red line across his otherwise pristine features.

I stuck the dagger back, twisting around. Reading for the push, I grounded my left leg. The cold bit my skin. The wind threatening to take my ears and nose with it.

Daemon! The prince hollered, Heal me!

I watched, eyes flickering between the two of them, but Daemon did nothing. Not a single flash of red erasing Arkos’s wounds. I blinked, groaning against his weight as I watched Daemon shake, biting his lip. His forehead was wrinkled with concentration as if he were in great pain.

Daemon! Arkos gritted out, veins popping on his neck and forehead like thick, ugly worms. He pushed down on me, his own arms shaking with fury. He was so close that I could smell his breath over me, I could see the saliva sticking to his bared teeth. Now!

Daemon groaned, his eyes wide and glassy as he lifted his arm, lifting Arkos’s blood, fashioning a symbol from it. By now, I could nearly tell when a healing spell was finished, and Daemon was almost done. Without thinking, I pushed back on Arkos and his sword, desperately shoving him off of me.

I let my sword go, hearing it clatter to the ground. It was a fine blade, but in the moment, I heard and felt nothing but my heart thundering in my chest. I sprinted, almost slipping on the ice beneath me. I launched myself, jumping onto the prince’s body. My fingers wrapped around the necklace, yanking it upwards and off Daemon’s head. We collided, crashing onto the ground and sliding down the port on the ice. The necklace wrapped in my fist.

Someone screamed. I could now recognize it anywhere. Sivrehya. I tried to crane my neck, to search the crowd for her. But before I could tell what was happening, I fell, the ground disappearing from beneath me. And the Merisan prince, in my hold, fell with me.

VI

Minavich, Pyatov

Junah peeked out from behind the second wagon. Her muscles ached already. She might have been a mage and stronger than those who weren’t, but still, her body was more used to running through the busy streets of Sunsier than pushing heavy wagons and barrels full of Sun Goddess knew what.

She’d spent the beginning minutes trying to calm her rapid heart. Her mind had become lightheaded, her morning meal threatening to come out the moment she stepped on a corpse. It took all her strength to not shriek and run away. Not that she’d escape the dead; they seemed to be littering the entire town. She spent the next minutes trying to figure out how to help. Her magic all but gone with the thick mass of clouds above them. The daggers she had were useless against the chaos. Each time she heard a scream, she winced. The noise, still so uncommon to her ears, made them hurt. Her heart was sure to jump out of her, and in the thick layers of fur, she was sweating a waterfall.

Junah had caused a distraction. She had allowed them some precious time before the inevitable. A chaos mage would see through the spell and reveal them to the others as one had just done. And then the real battle had started, and the solar mage felt useless and pathetic, hiding behind a wagon while her friends, the ones who saved her life and whom she promised she would fight with, were fighting, without her. Her gaze switched from the desolate blue ocean to the equally desolate sky. She murmured a prayer to the Sun Goddess, wondering if the clouds would make it harder for her goddess to hear her, wondering if she could do anything at all. Erik had once told her that the deities gave them strength and courage—and she lacked both now. She missed the snarky fire mage and the gentle water mage. She hoped with all she had they weren’t dead. But she also hoped they weren’t slaves to mad mages who wanted the world for their own. So simple her life had been before this all; she missed it so much that her heart began to ache. But it wasn’t gone, she reminded herself, not yet at least. It was simply in danger, and she had promised to fight for it.

A solar mage? a deep, brusque voice pulled her from her thoughts.

Junah jerked around, eyes wide with fear that the chaos mage could certainly smell. But that wasn’t what worried her the most.

"You weakling, what are you doing here?"

I am here to fight you—you pompous donkey!

Goddess, if that was the worst she could come up with, maybe death was a better option. The chaos mage laughed. Junah probably would have too if she had been in an entirely different situation.

That’s all you have? Darkness, it must be some miracle that you survived when the others didn’t.

Junah didn’t think it was possible to get any colder. But his words proved her very wrong, chilling her down to the bones. The solar mage blinked, one hand snaking down, grabbing her dagger. She might die right now, but holding it gave her a small slice of comfort that she desperately needed.

What are you talking about?

The people from the Twin Cities? At the fields. I often wondered, he said and smiled, sly and wicked, as he put his hands behind his back and took a step towards her.

Junah glanced around, leaning back to get away from him, but she couldn’t go too far lest she wished to plummet into icy waters. She looked around, probably making him laugh even more. He seemed alone but only seemed. She learned that eyes could not be trusted around chaos mages.

Why in the Dark Mother’s name they would bother going? Sure, we toppled their precious cities, eliminating their leaders was easy enough. A drop of green ivy root in their drinks or their foods was really all it took.

His words pinned her in place. Her blood rushing inside of her, her mind spinning. No. She blinked, his words unfurling. No. No.

He stepped forwards again, his smile cutting his face in half. It had cruelty written all over it. Junah gulped, pressing her palm against her measly dagger. A needle against this man’s power. They never even saw us coming. They never saw us leave. My only regret really is not watching them choke on their own blood as the poison took over.

Goddess above. Junah shook her head. Face to face with one of the monsters who had killed a Free City leader. She would have loved to pounce and bury her blade into his chest. His chest plate would bend it in half. She glanced up at the sky. Where was the sun now of all the times? He laughed again, cold, sending shivers through her body. Her skin prickled, the hair standing up straight.

The chaos mage cocked his head, still baring his teeth like a predator. Junah braced herself, biting down on her tongue until she drew blood, for the blow that he would hit her with.

His voice laced with taunting, with play, as if he was goading her. I was there.

Junah felt the tears begin to brim her cold eyes. No, she pleaded. But they fell against her will. Her arms frozen at her side, she couldn’t wipe the tears as they fell one after the other.

I was one of the ones who brought chaos to your city and made it fall.

He paused, knowing the deep cuts he’d just made in Junah’s soul. She wanted to look away from him, tear her eyes from his amber ones. But she was afraid doing so might kill her faster, and she was in no hurry to die.

"Look at you, pathetic bitch. Crying," he scoffed.

She tried so hard to stop, but he had truly tore her apart. Her city, in ruins because of this man. Her leaders gone because of him. Hate was not a word she took lightly; seeing the good in people was something her mother instilled into her at a young age. But the solar mage felt it now, that dark seed growing in her core. Volatile.

You are weak. Each and every one. Which is why we didn’t bother sparing a single one of you exotic mages. We kept the ones who could actually help.

A flare of anger, spawning from that shadowy seed, took over her senses, smashing right through the fear. Do not say that, she spat out, her words holding more venom than perhaps any words she’d ever said before.

Well, the man said and grinned again, eyes darkening, it is the truth.

Exotic, do not call us that, she clarified. If she would go down, she would go down insulting this monster for his wrongness, she would go down standing up to the man who had tried to tear her apart. If she could not stab his heart, she’d stab his ego. Perhaps, Junah said as she shifted, careful to not slip on the icy ground, since you have subjected yourselves to living in an overgrown forest your entire life, you have forgotten that Sunsier and Moonsier have always been part of Rodessa. And before your kind decided that destroying the native cities and building a singular empire was a good idea–

"Assimilation."

Destruction, Junah countered. That seed was growing fast, blossoming already into her veins, her blood hot.

Different ways of looking at it, I suppose.

You are a sick–

I’ve heard enough of you. His harsh voice stung her. I don’t care.

Before the solar mage could throttle him, because throttle him she so desired to do, all kindness be damned, someone grabbed her from behind. Rough and brutal, she was suddenly squished. Tough arms wrapped around her, squeezing her so hard she began to think it was a giant snake as opposed to a person. She struggled, kicking her feet. She aimed for a foot, trying to look down, but fingers wrapped around her chin, hard leather gloves digging into her skin. She grunted, thrashing in the man’s hold.

You’re a fighter. The man in front of her smiled. His thin lips nearly disappeared into his skin, making him look more like the monster he was.

Let– Junah whipped her head around, wriggling around like a trapped animal in a too-small cage. Let me go! At least this futile and probably hilarious attempt of escape distracted them long enough for the solar mage to fish out her blade and ram it into the thick furs and hopefully the flesh of her captor.

His grip loosened as he groaned, nearly folding on top of her as one hand flew to his wound. She kicked him off. Her quivering fingers reached for one of her small blades. Anything to stay alive, anything to keep fighting. Anything to finish him. She pulled it out, waving it in the air, cutting at whatever she could. The thought had scared her, but not more than failing. But someone, him, grabbed her thin wrist, forcing with his other hand, the blade from her tired grip. He tossed it.

No! Junah yelped, eyes wide and fearful as she watched the dagger slide down the port, the ice only aiding its race towards the edge of the wooden boards. She heard a laugh then, sick and taunting.

Not as smart as I thought you would be.

His face was in front of hers, their noses nearly pressing each other’s. It made her squirm, want to scream, explode, cry. Junah resorted to kicking her feet again. Must she die, she’d die fighting. What are you talking about?

Isn’t it obvious? You’re too clean to be a poor merchant. That boiled her blood without any assistance from a blood mage. Your hair too shiny. You’re probably a self-absorbed scholar. She wasn’t self-absorbed, she was extremely selfless, right? Suddenly, the man cracked open a new insecurity in the middle of battle. But no matter, all you solar and lunar mages are useless. Useless without the sun, useless without the moon.

That usually is not a problem in Sunsier.

Well, darling, he said, and the word itched at her all wrong, you are not in Sunsier anymore. There’s no sun here, and that will be your demise.

You killed innocent people. Her voice trembled, but not with fear, with that seed that kept growing. Into her blood, her mind, her soul that he had cut open. She met his icy glare, matching it with one of her own. She let that seed speak for her, for it was the truth. You are monsters. For my city’s pain, you will pay.

He stepped forward, and if the edge of the docks wasn’t right behind her, she would have stepped back. You should know, girl, ‘monster’ isn’t an insult. It’s a compliment. Besides, if those people are against us, against the world we want to create, then they are enemies. And enemies, he said and raised a hand, his head lowering just a smidge, must die. A wave of panic washed over the solar mage when she caught his lip curl upwards.

It happened before she could even process it entirely. But she was against the other man, his arm holding her hostage against his hard chest. She struggled in his grip, but he was too strong, and before long, she felt a cold line across her throat. It pressed into her skin, it was so thin, her blood pumped violently against it.

Vile beasts, she gritted out, biting her tongue so she wouldn’t cry. She never got to properly say goodbye to Sabah, to Miss Fara, and her professors, nor to Sivrehya, who perhaps was the first person she had called a friend and truly meant it. Nor Avran and Erik or Zale and Jace, who had been so kind to her despite the fury that surrounded them all. Now, she would die, having done nothing but push barrels and sink a ship. She gave up, letting her death grip on the man’s arm go, her arms falling to her sides. The knife still pressed against her skin; she whimpered, not knowing what they’d do to her. In their eyes, she was a weak little thing, easily corrupted, easily broken. It hurt almost as much as a blade in her body, proving them right. Knowing she had come face to face with someone who had wrecked her world, only to succumb to him, like she had watched her beautiful city do. She liked to think of herself as resilient, but her resilience was for piles of textbooks and papers, not chaos mages and their dark magic.

She swallowed, but it hurt against the dagger. That was when his hand brushed her own. She stilled, blinking as the chaos mage stalked forward, ordering the man holding her hostage to keep her there. Junah felt for the one blade she had left, wrapping her gloved fingers around it. She did not have much time for anything, so she figured out the easiest thing to do and she went for it.

Ashanriva, please forgive me, she whispered to the Sun Goddess before yanking her blade from the sheath and ramming it behind her into the soft flesh of the man’s neck. He yelped, pushing her away from him. The blade still in her hands, she pulled it out of him. The color barely showed through on his thick green coat, but it dripped on the ice, freezing instantly.

Dark Mother, I never thought I’d see the day a solar mage became a murderer.

Junah stilled, hands shaking. Murderer. She spun around; he was still breathing, but quickly and pained. Her heart sank. The Sun Goddess would make her pay, no matter if it was self-defense or not. Taking a life was criminal, and she had just done that. She forced herself to look away, hateful at the Goddess for taking away the sun, hateful at herself for doing what she’d done.

You always act so righteous, so great behind that wall of yours that protected you all those years ago.

Stop it.

Now you’re a murderer.

He is not dead. She denied it; it would be too much to bear.

A cold-blooded killer–

Be quiet! She launched the knife. She hadn’t expected to be a good shot. She figured at the camp the days of training were made easier because it was a wooden pole she was aiming at. But the knife she’d thrown had buried itself in the man’s left eye, and Junah’s mouth gaped open.

The chaos mage stumbled back, bringing his hands up to his face. But he was not quick enough. The ice underneath his boots made him slip, and he crumbled to the ground like a broken doll. She stepped forward cautiously, eyes narrowed as she looked around her. Hovering over the chaos mage with a quivering hand, Junah reached over his bloodied face for her blade. Would she have to rip it out fast or slow? She wasn’t sure; the makings of a body were not her line of study. She wrapped her fingers on the hilt, shut her eyes, and pulled. Something hot touched her face. She blinked, knowing without touching it that it was probably blood.

Someone behind groaned weakly, and the solar mage turned, dagger tight in her hand. The man who had his blade on her neck just moments ago, now gasping for air. His hands slow to come up and press on the bleeding wound. Junah’s heart dropped, and the dagger in her hand clattered to the ground. Hands on her mouth, she shook, eyes painfully wide as she watched the man writhing.

Oh, Goddess. She reached out. Oh, Sun Goddess forgive me. You are still—oh, no, no, no, I am so—I cannot heal you, the sun, it is not...

Suddenly but slowly, he wrapped her hand with his own; it was caked in blood. Junah winced, afraid of what he might do. Break it, bend it, pull a bone out? But he did nothing of the sort; he just held her hand tightly and looked at her. It was painful for him to breathe. It was his body shutting down, accepting the fate that she had given to him.

Go, he rasped.

Junah shook her head firmly. No, I-I am not a healer. Not, not magically. But maybe I can– She fumbled with his coat, her fingers shaking uncontrollably as she tried to escape his grasp, he was too strong.

Please. Go.

She looked up at him right as his eyes flickered shut and his hand fell limp. Junah sank back, her butt hitting the rock-hard ice beneath her. She felt empty, defeated. She had just killed someone, and she did not know what to feel. She could only hope she would be forgiven, that he would be in a better place.

As she struggled back up, her eyes caught sight of something around his neck, peeking out from beneath his scarf. She crawled on the ice, pushing back the fabric. A gasp caught in her throat.

She’d seen that necklace before. She’d seen it on mages from Meris, Lysmir, and the Free Cities that were fighting alongside the chaos mages. She’d seen a drawing of it that both Sivrehya and Ivar had shown them all back in Maeh. And now, it was laying on his chest, and something twisted in the solar mage. She looked up, gulping. But before she could figure out why a Vylaran was enslaved, she caught sight of something black and dark and very sharp. She narrowed her eyes, stilling when she realized the direction it was flying towards.

VII : SIVREHYA RITHLOREN

Minavich, Pyatov

Iwas so fucking cold and heavy. My muscles had frozen, it seemed; my mind sluggish. I forced myself up from the ice, pushing back wet hair from my eyes. It hurt to blink. It hurt to breathe.

Flecks of white sat on my eyelashes, I wiped them off. Around me was the same macabre scene from before. The smell of oil and blood made for a terrible combination I found out, as I pushed myself off the slippery ice. Near me lay a woman who looked more to be in a deep slumber than dead. She was bundled by a thick scarf and a giant coat that swallowed her whole. There was a small circle that was burned into her chest. No. I moved closer. This was not the work of fire turning fabric to char. This was the