As Becca continued to cast, a pair of black horns appeared behind the gates. Under them was an eyeless face, a lipless mouth.
Abbadon was as terrifying as Sera remembered. It took all her courage to stay where she was, cock her crossbow, and aim it.
“Kyrios!” the monster howled. “Zh?! Dominus!” Sera knew these were words for master. Abbadon was calling to Orfeo.
“Becca, watch out!” Sera shouted.
An arm, sinewy and black, streaked with red, shot out from between the bars. A hand opened. In the center of its palm was a lidless eye. More hands grasped the bars. The monster started pulling on them. The gates opened wider.
Sera fired on it. Her arrow sank into one of its arms. Abbadon snarled but kept pulling on the bars. Ice cracked. The ancient gates creaked and swung inward.
“Becca!” Sera screamed.
There was a huge whoosh, and then searing blue fire shot up from the ground in front of the prison, all the way to the top of the gates.
The monster shrieked. It staggered away from the bars, back into the prison.
“Stay there, Becca! Keep the flames going!”
Becca gave a quick nod, still songcasting. Sera raced back to the others and arrived at the water wall in time to see Orfeo circle Astrid.
“Did you really think you could beat me? Me?” he asked.
“I still do,” Astrid shot back.
Fury contorted Orfeo’s face. He threw a fragor lux at her. Astrid saw it coming; she rolled to one side. The stilo missed its mark, but it carved a gash into her shoulder.
“I gave you everything. Everything!” he snarled at her. “And this is how you repay me?”
“I’d hardly call a couple of black dresses everything,” Astrid drawled.
Orfeo threw another vortex. This one wound around Astrid’s tail, squeezing it cruelly. She arched her back, screaming in pain.
“Stop it!” Sera screamed, slapping her hands against the wall. “For gods’ sake, stop!”
Neela was crying. Ling was still songcasting, desperate to break through the wall.
Astrid, still on the ground, tried to crawl away from her tormentor. She pulled herself through the silt with her hands, dragging her battered tail behind her. Blood was pulsing from the gash on her shoulder. Slowly, painfully, she moved to the far end of the dome, where Orfeo had stood moments ago.
But she couldn’t get away from him. He came up behind her, grabbed a handful of her hair, and yanked her head back.
“Good-bye, you little fool,” he hissed. “I won’t make it quick. Or easy.”
Then he let go of her and started to songcast.
“No…oh, gods, no!” Sera moaned, sinking down against the water wall. She started to turn away; she couldn’t bear to watch what was going to happen.
Astrid’s head was hanging limply. Her body was still, her tail motionless.
But her hands were scrabbling madly in the silt.
What happened next happened so fast, all Sera could do was gasp.
With a wrenching cry, Astrid launched herself off the seafloor, her sword in her hands. Whirling her powerful body around, she swung the weapon through the water.
Orfeo’s eyes widened in shock. “Noooo!” he shouted, trying to deflect the blow.
But it was too late.
Astrid’s blade bit into his neck, and sliced through it.
His head fell into the silt. His body sank through the water and came to rest near it. Blood rose in a carmine plume. The dome he’d cast caved in; its waters washed over the mermaids.
Astrid had tricked him. She was hurt, but not as badly as she’d pretended. She’d baited him, making him so angry that he forgot about her sword, which had been buried. She’d let him push her all around the dome until she could get to where it lay.
Astrid threw that sword down now. She collapsed near Orfeo’s body and let out a wail that came from the depths of her soul.
SERA, IN A SPELL-SHOCKED DAZE, viewed the devastation of war all around her—Orfeo’s headless body; Astrid, on the ground sobbing; Yazeed, his tail bleeding badly; Ava crawling out from under Alítheia; Black Fins, some bruised and battered, others dead; the remains of thousands of rotters. Her fighters needed help, but she didn’t know where to begin.
“We need to get to the wounded, Sera,” Ling said. “They’re our first priority.”
“And Abbadon,” said Neela.
Sera nodded, grateful for her capable friends. The haze receded. She snapped into action.
Some of her goblin commanders were nearby. “Garstig, Mulmig, R?k,” she said, “find all the able-bodied fighters you can and have them carry the wounded to the infirmary tents.”
As the three goblins hurried off, Sera glanced at the Carceron. Becca was still there, still songcasting, but it was quiet at the gates. There was no further sign of Abbadon.
Ava swam up, and Sera turned to her. “Where is it?” she asked.
“Deep inside the prison,” Ava replied. “It knows Orfeo’s dead. It’s hiding from us.”