Everlife (Everlife #3)

Ten and I shout in unison. “No!”

Shock jolts me. My stomach collapses into itself. Metal slicks through Eron’s throat. His head detaches and falls to the ground. His body isn’t far behind, the Light under his feet vanishing.

Thump. THUMP.

Another denial from Ten, blending with a chorus of denials from every other Troikan. I open and close my mouth, my mind unable to compute.

We…lost? The greatest Secondking is dead?

Ambrosine won? Evil won?

No. No! Absolutely impossible.

But in the space of a heartbeat, our Light goes out. All Light. There’s nothing left—except darkness. I’m left cold, and empty. Nothing but a shell.





chapter thirty-one



“Leverage the pain of your past to ensure a brighter future.”

—Troika

Ten

“No,” I cry. I can’t… I don’t… Shock and horror trap my thoughts in an endless loop. I can’t… I don’t…

I can’t… I don’t…

I shake my head, and wires get rerouted. I can’t process the ramifications… I don’t know what to do. Darkness hangs heavy in the air, blinding me as a cacophony of protests and cheers assault my ears. The temperature drops, ice seeming to grow over my skin.

“This can’t be the end,” I whisper. “Darkness can’t be the winner.”

All hope is gone? We fought, and we lost, so go home and lick our wounds? I give my head another shake, the ends of my hair slapping my cheeks.

This simply cannot be. Light has to win. Light chases away darkness without fail. And, and, and we’ve sown love. Now we reap love. That’s how things work. Spiritual laws are never broken. Never!

Killian’s hand tightens on mine. Right now, he’s my only anchor in a terrible storm. “Eron must have had a reason for acceptin’ the beheadin’, lass. Trust him.”

“He just…he can’t be dead.” We did everything right.

Where is Ambrosine? I can’t see him—can’t see anything. Is he hovering beneath the Veil, gloating about his victory?

A sob splits my lips. We risked our lives to save the people being tortured in Many Ends. Not just those we know, or those related to us, but strangers. We had Light on our side. We worked together. We stood as one. One spirit, one soul, one body. Surely we aren’t going to be punished for our sacrifices.

“Spirits never die,” Killian reminds me. “This is no’ the end.”

He isn’t just hopeful, I realize. I hear certainty in his tone. He truly believes we will see Eron again. That belief spurs mine, warming me inside and out. Eron would never do anything to harm his people. Whatever he did, he did for our good.

There is no power stronger than love, and the greatest sign of love is giving. Giving is sacrifice.

Suddenly a burst of fireworks explodes through the sky, revealing Ambrosine in the same spot as before. His people are on the ground, staring skyward, watching the show. My father, Victor, the remaining Abrogates. Even Javier. But I can hardly bring myself to care. The starburst is the most magnificent, glorious display I’ve ever seen. Streams of sparkling light more dazzling than the Northern Lights in the Land of the Harvest. They cause the burst of other Lights, lighting up Myriad from the inside out.

“I’m hooked to the Troikan Grid.” Awe drips from Killian’s voice. “There are no shadows, only Light.”

“We don’t need to go to court?” Eron let his brother kill him outright…for this?

—He did not kill me, Mighty Ten. Spirits never die. I am… I am. I was and I will always be. Though I lost my physical form, I have gained a better place in the Grid. I remain a part of my people.—

Eron’s voice flows across the Grid, and a gush of surprise laughter escapes me. He is alive. —You could have bested Ambrosine. You could have found another way.—

—You’ve been to court. You know there is only one way. You know every court case is paid in blood, the most precious commodity for human and spirit alike. Only a king’s blood could pay the price for countless Myriadians and Unsigned. Now they have a choice: defect or stay. Either way, they have been given a new start, without the influence of Ambrosine’s shadows. At least for a little while.—

I gulp. Such a beautiful exchange. Eron’s life for ours. For all. Only love could make such a sacrifice. —Are you saying Ambrosine will rebuild?—

—Myriad has been dealt a devastating blow, but yes, Ambrosine will rebuild. The difference is, any Myriadian who later decides to defect to Troika may do so, without ever having to go to court. No one else must experience Second-death. That is what we fought for, and that is what we won.—

—But what of peace?—

—With our actions this day, we’ve extended an olive branch. Some will accept, some will not. We can only love them all, and strive for better.—

Deep breath in, out. So badly I longed for peace. But I do understand what he’s saying. I cannot force others to comply. I can only do what I know is right. —And what of humans?—

—A choice must still be made. They must choose Troika or Myriad. My people will continue on, winning souls.—

Here’s hoping we can fight for souls without actually fighting Myriadians.

“Do you guys see what I see?” Archer asks, awe dripping from his tone. “Or am I imagining my dream scenario?”

I’m drawn out of my head—and gasp. A section of the Veil of Midnight has been parted to reveal a breathtaking bridge that glimmers with all the colors of the rainbow. A staircase descends from each side, branching into multiple staircases midway, the ends reaching every Gate and Stairwell in the realm. As if the bridge has many arms open wide in welcome. Come to me.

Anyone can climb to the top at any time.

Side rails rise into a magnificent bejeweled arch, with four pillars acting as anchors. Two on each side. Those pillars end in razor sharp points, as if to ward off any aerial threat.

“No!” Ambrosine rams his big body into the bridge, but the massive structure holds steady.

Contact must weaken him, because he tumbles from the sky, his shadows unable to catch him. He crash-lands, his bones breaking, the resounding pop echoing through the Kennels. The foundation at my feet quakes, and drops of water rain from the crimson Veil. As if the realm is crying tears of blood.

One by one, the Myriadians around us collapse, just like their king. Javier, Victor and my father stay down, writhing in pain. Victor curses me, as if his pain is my fault.

My father reaches for me. “Ten…help…”

Help? He can’t be serious. Only one day ago, this man slashed my mother’s throat in front of me, hastening her Second-death. And he laughed about it!

His throat should be slashed!

Ugh. Who are you?

Resentment is not my friend. Resentment heralds hate, and hate heralds bitterness. Ambrosine was the epitome of bitterness, and I won’t be like him.

I don’t have to like my father. But. If there’s a chance he has seen the Light, or will see the Light, can I really turn him away? Resolute, I make my way toward him, then crouch at his side.

The closer I get, the more I see glee glimmering in his eyes. I slow my pace. He reaches for me with one hand, as if beseeching me…and tries to stab me with the other.

Reflexes well-honed, I raise my arm to block. I’m about to launch a counterstrike when Killian appears at my side and stomps on my dad’s wrist.

Leonard bellows with pain and outrage. I won’t refer to him as “my dad” or “father” ever again. He is neither of those things.

He hasn’t seen the Light. He might not ever see the Light. Even now, he thinks to betray me.

Any other time, my heart would have grown heavy. Today, the Grid—Eron—shines too brightly, a soothing balm to my soul and more of a father to me than Leonard ever was. I did my part. I tried to help. I can walk away with my head high.