Ve'Rah Daa (The Ephemeral: Book 3)

Chapter 44

The blackness crashed through the ceiling and bounced off the surface of Mason's shield like a million gallons of water. The dome shuddered under the demon avalanche, and I swore I heard it crack.

"What's happening?" Mason hissed, his arms shaking as he poured his power into the haven, reinforcing its curvature and protecting our souls from certain obliteration.

"We killed the delegate!" Eagan cried over the roar of the assault. Blocks of concrete fell down around us, leaving yet another gaping hole in the skeleton palace. "The demons are free!"

My gaze flew to the courtyard, where humans and supernatural energies collided. Mason's recruits had enabled us to fight back, and with the bridge closed, we'd finally outnumbered our enemies. But we'd failed to anticipate their evolution.

Streaks of black smoke enveloped the Pans born on the battlefield, infecting them with more anger, more greed, more power. I couldn't make out the physical enhancements from this distance, but I could tell they were larger, fiercer, and not unlike the horrible creature I'd encountered in Will's mind.

Suddenly, Rover's men were up against concentrated forces of evil—ten demons to one soul. And these feral mutants didn't care for conquest or longevity. They no longer had a purpose to fulfill, no vendetta to carry out.

We'd become nothing more than sick entertainment to these "Otherkind," and that mindset had released them from an orderly execution, opening the doors to exquisite torture.

Cinder raced off to assist our forces, and I suspected she could smell the monstrosities we'd created—the vile threat we'd just unleashed.

Gritz...what do we do?

How did it come to this? How did humanity's salvation depend on five young adults and a magic-wielding ten-year-old?

When I turned back to my companions, their expressions matched the swelling terror within me. I could see it on each of their faces—the fear of losing this war and what it would mean for everyone we loved, the fear of Godric's sealed victory and a meaningless death.

It took another wave of demons crashing into the dome to snap us out of it.

"Dammit," Mason groaned, falling to his knees with his arms above his head. Magic poured from his palms like blistering steam. "What now?"

"...The portal didn't close," Will whispered, his gaze still on his brother's corpse. "It wasn't him. He wasn't the anchor..."

My heart splintered at the sight of his blatant guilt and horror. He'd killed Regulas in hopes of ending this war, only to release Pandora's nightmares upon our comrades. He'd killed his king, and nothing had changed.

It was then that I realized everyone else was staring at him too, but not because they were concerned for his mental state.

No one wanted to say it, of course. Not with me here, ready to rip out the throat of whoever uttered it first. Not with the demon king lying before me, painting the ground red. But they were all thinking it—Valerie's horrified tears confirmed it.

One of two princes had perished today, and an anchor remained. That left us with one obvious, agonizing answer.

"No," I said, my nostrils flaring at the mere thought of sacrificing my person. My pillar. I shook my head at Will and the awful, contemplative look in his eye. "Not you."

It was my death Nova had foreseen, not his.

This was my burden to bear, no one else's.

"No," he agreed after a few seconds, and the devastation on his face burrowed into my chest like a bullet. He stared past me, and I followed his gaze to his sister, who sat at the windowsill in the foyer, untouched and unbothered by the demonic deluge. "Not me."