“What did you say?” Taran asked.
“Nothing, nothing. Just enjoying the show.” Magnus gestured toward his sister. “Lucia, will you be getting on with the ritual? Time grows short.”
Her bleak gaze met his, but there was no recognition there. She still didn’t see him past the threat of Kyan.
“I wanted to find another way,” she said as she drew the edge of the golden blade across her palm, then dripped her blood onto each of the crystal orbs. “But there’s no choice. I don’t know if this will work or if it will kill you—” Her voice broke off. “Magnus, I’m sorry. If I’d never been born, none of this would be happening.”
“Don’t say that,” Magnus said firmly. “You have been a gift from the moment you came into my life. Never forget that.”
Their eyes met and held. And . . . yes. There it was.
Tears spilled down her cheeks.
She knew it was him.
“Stop her,” Kyan yelled from within Magnus. “I demand that you stop her! I was meant to be free—free with my siblings. I was meant to rule this world! To reform it however I saw fit! You can’t stop that! I am fire. I am magic. And you will burn!”
The orbs had begun to glow brighter, like tiny suns.
“Do it, sister,” Magnus said, steeling himself, since he knew very well how badly this could end for him. “Whatever you feel you need to do to end this, do it right now.”
“What is happening?” Taran said, moving forward. “This isn’t right. This isn’t the ritual.”
“No,” Lucia said, shaking her head. “It definitely isn’t.”
Lucia raised the blade above her head and brought it down hard over the obsidian orb.
Olivia screamed.
Taran was closing the distance between him and Lucia as swiftly as a hurricane, but not before she shattered the moonstone with the dagger’s tip. He froze in place, as if he’d hit an invisible barrier, his knees buckling from under him.
Magnus grabbed hold of Cleo’s hand, pulling her against his side.
“Do it!” Cleo yelled.
Lucia destroyed the aquamarine orb, and Cleo’s grip on Magnus’s hand became painfully tight as she cried out.
“What are you waiting for?” Magnus roared. “End this!”
The amber orb shattered on contact.
Magnus felt something hit him. Something solid and sharp and painful. It felt like his flesh was being torn from his bones.
He tried to see through the pain—toward Lucia at the table. She looked down at the broken pieces of the Kindred orbs. They were still glowing, brighter and brighter until their light began to obliterate her from his view.
Move, Lucia, he thought frantically. Get away from them.
But she stood frozen in place, as if unable to move away from the magic that was going to explode and surely destroy them all in the process.
A moment before his vision went stark white, he saw a shadow—Jonas, free from his vines, leaping toward Lucia and knocking her out of the way just as a thick column of light shot up from the shattered orbs.
Light, too, shot out of Magnus’s eyes, his mouth, his hands. He couldn’t see, couldn’t think. But he could feel.
Cleo’s hand still gripped his.
“Don’t you dare let go of me,” he roared at her past the deafening whooshing sound sweeping through the throne room. A windstorm enveloped them, threatening to carry them away. A violent earthquake shook the ground beneath their feet.
“The others!” Cleo screamed.
Yes, the others. Magnus searched the chaos surrounding him until he saw Olivia. She held on to Taran like he held on to Cleo.
He reached toward her, and she grabbed hold of his hand. Cleo did the same with Taran. Taran’s nose was bleeding, and his face was bruised and bloody. Olivia’s gaze was wild, fearful, but still fierce and ready to fight.
Chunks of marble fell from the destroyed ceiling, narrowly missing them as the wind swirled around and the floor nearby split wide open.
“I’m sorry!” Olivia yelled, but it was barely audible above the sound of the elemental storm surging around them.
“None of this is your fault!” Cleo replied.
Magnus would like to argue that this was, in part, Olivia’s fault, but there was no time.
“Bloody weak,” Taran growled. “I should have fought harder.”
“Yes, you should have,” Magnus said. “But you’re still here.”
“Just in time for us all to die.”
A monstrous burst of fire erupted in front of Magnus. He jumped back as the fire grew. He could feel its heat searing his skin.
“No,” Magnus growled. “I didn’t survive this long to give up now.”
“Your sister is helping them,” Taran hurled back at him, his words nearly stolen completely by a series of swirling tornadoes that circled them. Magnus eyed them uneasily, knowing each one could tear them apart if they got too close.
They should have been torn apart by now—by all of this. But they weren’t. Not yet.
“My sister, in case you are incapable of understanding this,” Magnus said without a single doubt in the world, “is helping us.”
Lucia would save the world. Why had Magnus doubted her for even a moment?
He was such a fool.
He lost his grip on Olivia’s hand, and she flew backward from him. “No!” he yelled.
Cleo squeezed his hand hard, and he looked at her, nearly blind from the beam of destructive light that had torn the throne room apart.
Taran was nowhere to be seen.
“Forever,” she said, tears streaking her face. “Whatever happens—you and me are together forever. All right?”
“You and me,” he agreed. “Until eternity. I love you, Cleo.”
“I love you, Magnus.”
He’d never heard more beautiful words in his entire life.
Cleo buried her face in his chest, and he wrapped his arms tightly around her, refusing to ever let go of her, no matter what happened.
The light grew brighter and brighter.
The wind howled. The fire burned. The earth itself shook and shattered beneath their feet.
And then . . .
Then it was all over.
CHAPTER 34
JONAS
AURANOS
It felt as if the Forbidden Mountains themselves had crashed down on top of him.
The throne room was in ruin. Light from the sky shone down onto Jonas, brightening the remains of what had once been the golden palace. He tried to turn his head to see who was there, who was hurt or dead, but the pain made him scream.
“Hold still, you fool,” Lucia said. “You have a broken neck.”
“Broken neck—?” he managed. “Nic . . . Nic is hurt. Worse than me. Help him first.”
“I already did,” Lucia told him. “Ashur insisted. He’ll be fine. Now stay still and be quiet so I can heal you.” She placed her hands on his neck, and a burning sensation made him yelp as it sank deep into his throat, his spine, so intense he thought he might pass out from it.
And then the pain was gone.
Lucia looked down at him.
“You healed me,” he said weakly.
“Of course I did. I mean, it’s your elementia I’m currently using.”
He blinked. “I was dead.”
“I hear you’ve been dead a lot.”