“So that gives us what? Eight hours?” Thom asked, his panic heightening into anger, leaving his voice hard and derogatory as he questioned Ilyan.
“I am hoping it will be closer to forty,” Ilyan replied sternly, his eyes digging into his brother as he tried to control Thom’s impending outburst. “He needs to place his pawns after all, and we are beginning to see the early stages of that.”
“Forty hours until Edmund arrives and the final battle begins. Sounds reasonable to me. I am sure we will be ready in time.” Thom’s simple statement put everything into place.
I couldn’t stop the panic that rolled over me as true understanding hit me. As much as I tried to fight it, the awful truth triggered the horrors that I was beginning to think I would never be free of.
“Can I leave now? I would love to get back to Wyn,” Thom said, but I barely heard him.
The realization of what they had been talking about stabbed through me, my muscles seizing in anxiety as my breathing picked up. I had known they were talking about the Trpaslíks, about whatever attack they had planned, but it was so much more than that.
Edmund was coming; Edmund was attacking.
They were getting ready to start a battle.
The last battle.
The battle that I had seen in the sight Ilyan had received of me, the sight my father had given. The battle I was expected to defeat Edmund in. The battle that had been prophesized about all those years ago. The battle I could not stop.
The thought ran through me like a flame, blazing into every inch of me. I didn’t know if I was ready to face Edmund. I had seen the sight and knew what was expected of me, but I couldn’t. I wouldn’t be able to defeat him. Not after everything Edmund and Cail had done to me. Not after what Ryland had done to me.
The thoughts swirled as my anxiety reached a peak I hadn’t felt since before Ilyan had released me from Cail’s prison.
My body shook as the sound of my breathing grew into sobs and screams that pushed away the frantic voices I heard shouting through the air. Fear gripped me, flinging Ilyan’s magic away as it flared in an attempt to calm me.
“You are stronger than the demons, Joclyn,” Ilyan whispered as he pressed his hand against my cheek. I jumped at the touch until I registered the familiarity of his warmth, my eyes flashing open to see him kneeling right in front of me.
“You can fight it,” he whispered. “Focus on the good.”
I stared wide-eyed at him as I focused on the color of his eyes, the golden light pulling me away from the edge of insanity as the soft tones of our song began to fill his mind. I heard them as they trailed from him in silence, where only I could hear. The calm the melody brought wrapped me in warmth. My voice was no more than a whisper amid the silence of the room as I began to sing along, as I let the words give me the strength I had somehow lost along the way.
Ilyan smiled as I sang, the song ending as my breathing slowed, my hand unwinding from the comforter I had clenched.
“Good, mi lasko, good,” he soothed as his hand moved to run through the long strands of my hair. I focused on the gentle feel of his touch as everything melted away.
I wanted the calm I felt to stay forever, but I knew it couldn’t—because I had to ask. I had to hear it from Ilyan and know exactly what I was facing.
I bit my lips as I looked at him, knowing I couldn’t wait. Is Edmund coming?
My heart rate sped up at the thought, the icy steel of his eyes clouding the blue as he nodded.
“Yes.” That one word pounded through me, threatening to collapse the fragile calm that I had found.
For the final battle? For what was in our sight? I asked, even though there was no need. I had heard what had been said, and my blood heated as it promised me the truth of what was racing forward.
“Yes,” he said again, his voice strong, even though I could see the sadness in his eyes, hear his worry over how it would end.
Not like there was anything we could do about it. We already knew.
You will protect her, but you will fail. The one bred to change the world of magic, the one bred to die.
Die.
I could hear the words of the sight run through me. The image of Ilyan holding my blood-covered body was sharp against my heart.
“I’m n-not read-dy,” I gasped out, my voice quaking through me.
“You are stronger than any, my love. I know you will overcome what has been done to you. I promise you, I will help you to see it happen,” he whispered low enough that only I could hear.
I let out a shaky breath as my stomach tightened. I was scared. I felt weak, but I knew that wasn’t who I was. If I wanted to find who I was again, I knew what I needed to do.
I needed to face it.
I pushed away the agitation as I reached through the blankets to wind my hand around his neck, the soft pads of my fingers pressing against his skin as I pulled him closer, pressing his cheek against mine.
“I need to see,” I whispered to him, a calm rush moving through me at the clarity of my words.