“Hold on, Day,” I growl as I crush my thumbs into the goblin’s eye sockets and drop its dead body. “I’m going to fix you.”
I need to stop his bleeding, but my magic feels so far away, trapped within the sick bark of Castletree. Even the most elaborate healing I’ve done before seems nothing compared to the chest of my brother, struck with arrows. I sit on my heels, blood flinging from my leather gloves as my hands shake.
All around is death, death, and more death. Fire rages, and the sickly smell of burning goblin flesh stings the air. Farron roars as an arrow sinks deep into his shoulder. From across the burned library, Princess Niamh lowers her bow and stares at him with hatred.
My vision tunnels to blackness. Everything feels muted and distant as Dayton’s gaze flicks to me. “Ez,” he gasps, voice barely intelligible, “I-I’m afraid.”
“Day.” I wrap my arms around my brother and heave him to my chest. Dayton is dying. Farron will be shot. And I will roast within my armor until I am nothing more than a charred skeleton upon this field.
Dayton’s blood splatters over me and I can’t help it: an inhuman scream tears out of my throat. I never wanted to hold the dying body of anyone I loved ever again. My gaze shifts up to Farron. Not Farron. The beast.
He asked me to kill him if he lost control. I failed my promise. Now, when the sun cuts over the horizon and the wolf retreats, Farron will have to live with knowing he caused the death of his beloved. He will have to stare into Dayton’s lifeless eyes and know the truth of his destruction.
It is a sorrow I would not wish upon my most hated enemy.
A sorrow I cannot let Farron carry for the rest of his life.
I drop Dayton in the mud. With a deep breath, I reach for the first arrow, my fingers finding purchase on the slick shaft. The sound of the battle fades into nothingness as I pull the arrow out with a sharp, sudden yank. Dayton’s blood spurts out in a thick stream, soaking my hands and armor. He arches off the ground, his back bowing as he screams in agony. My hands shake as I toss the arrow aside and grab the second one, tearing it out with another violent pull. Dayton’s body writhes beneath me, and his screams echo in my ears. I reach for the third arrow, hesitating for a moment before gritting my teeth and ripping it out in one swift motion. Dayton’s body goes limp. Blood oozes from the gaping wounds in his chest.
I need to stop the bleeding. I tear off my gloves and place my hand over the first wound. My magic is faraway. But Autumn’s magic is close; Farron is close.
“Let me do this,” I whisper to the Above, to myself. “Let me save him.”
You’ll only kill him too, a voice whispers inside me. But this time, I don’t listen.
Heat bursts within my heart, a burning reserve that fills my veins. I know this power is devastating, but I grit my teeth, temper it.
Fire bursts forth from my fingertips, blazing and bright. A comforting warmth blankets my skin. I focus my energy on the first wound, and the flames respond, licking the jagged edges of flesh. Dayton lurches, crying out, but I don’t stop. The heat cauterizes, sealing the gash and renewing it, like a forest regrowing after a terrible wildfire.
Red, raw skin emerges from beneath the flames, and Dayton collapses to the mud. I do the second wound. Then the third. My vision swims as the fire fades, but somehow, I’m able to wedge my fingers into the crook of his neck to find his heartbeat. Steady.
Vertigo hits me from the exertion, and I collapse over Dayton’s body.
Beyond the darkening edges of my vision, goblins grimace down at me. There are so many… At least Farron won’t die thinking it was he who killed Dayton.
I can barely stay conscious, but I know we’re at the end of all things now. A terrible howl fills the night as mounted fae surround Farron, including his mother. She raises a golden sword above her head.
I need to get to him, but I can scarcely move. The magic needed to heal my brother has dried all the wells of power within me. A goblin’s thorny hammer smacks against my chest plate, and I cry out from the impact. I need to… I need to… I need—
A burst of white shines across my vision, and a man leaps down into the chaos, magic radiating around him like flashes of lightning.
Keldarion, High Prince of Winter and Protector of the Realms, has come for us.
He moves like a hunting cat, streaming through the hordes of goblins with long knives crafted of ice. Beneath each step, fractals spread over the ground, extinguishing the flames with a hiss. A feral rage claims his features.
My bones ache as I try to sit up. With a wave of Kel’s hand, the surrounding air crystallizes. Cold energy ripples outward, and a swell of frozen spikes erupt from the earth. The goblins shriek, fleeing before him, some pierced upon the spikes, others caught in the spreading frost. I watch with horror as their bodies stiffen and gleam with ice. The same as if they were attacked by a winter wraith.
“Kel,” I try to call, but my voice is weak, raspy. “Enough.”
Ice shoots from his every step, claiming whatever is in its path. The charred remains of the library, the fleeing goblins… the Autumn Guard. A horse whinnies and rears, nearly throwing its rider off, but Keldarion’s terror takes them first, freezing its hooves to the ground.
With growing horror, I regard the frost crawling toward us. “Dayton, we have to go.” I force myself to my hands and knees, ignoring the nausea swimming through me from using so much power. But Dayton’s unconscious head lolls to the side. I grip him under the arms and pull. Stars, he’s so damned heavy. Frost licks at his boots.
“Kel!” I rasp, but he can’t hear me. He is a winter storm, tearing through the battlefield as an icy tempest spirals around his hands. Huge, jagged shards of ice spring from the ground, and goblins and fae alike flee from his power. This is his magic at its weakest…
“Fuck,” I swear and drop Dayton. Using the very last dregs of my energy, I raise my hands through the air, causing root and vine to propel up in a thick barrier between us and the frost.
I collapse to the ground, begging the Above that it will hold. Huge pillars of ice burst through the thorn-crusted portal which we created hours ago. Kel stands, shoulders heaving.
“Kel,” I say, and it’s like my voice carries on the icy breeze. “It’s enough.” He turns to me, and something flashes in his gaze.
The frost stops crawling forward, and Kel looks down at his hands, a horrified expression on his face. My root barrier cracks and falls to the earth. I wish I could sit up, but even that is beyond me. All I can do is stare at the frozen wasteland: horrific ice statues of screaming goblins, fae, and steeds litter the area.
A blood-curdling scream pierces the air. Princess Niamh. She emerges from behind her guards, frozen sentinels with their shields out. But she’s not looking at them. She gapes up at the alder tree.
It is completely frozen, a skeletal ice structure. And sitting at its base is Farron’s wolf. He stares up at it, many arrows piercing his fur. His head tips back, and he howls, a forlorn and lonesome sound. Deep within my chest, I feel my own wolf desperate to join the call.
Princess Niamh’s eyes hold a fevered look as she turns to Keldarion. “The truth reveals itself. I opened my doors to you. I offered you mercy. And behold what you’ve done!”
Kel steps back. “I am not the frost tearing across the Autumn Realm. I will not apologize for protecting the High Princes of Castletree.”
Darkness covers Niamh’s gaze. She looks behind her at the remaining soldiers who narrowly avoided Kel’s frost. “Arrest the traitorous High Prince of Winter.” Then she turns to me and Dayton. “And the High Princes of Spring and Summer for conspiring with him.”