Page 22 of Heir of Broken Souls

And then before I’m ready, a low bird call rings out, signaling the beginning.

Up ahead, two griffins with riders perched atop fly into view, and in the middle soars a small black raven, Harlow’s choice of animal. Relief, swift and heady, rushes through me, mirroring the swell of pride that flows through Knox’s body.

Knox sent his spy, along with two griffins for protection, to scour the in-between for innocents. Searching for the many stolen Fae from battle and those still missing from the in-between compound I accidentally stumbled upon all those months ago. I had to pass off my necklace to Harlow this morning, the only item on such short notice that can unveil the truth of what curses are hiding—the necklace Eleanor gave to me when she was trying to free me from my own sordid curse. My neck feels bare and strangely naked without the support of its weight.

Another short cry rings out—Harlow’s signal that all is clear.

It’s a blessing and a curse that we didn’t find anyone hidden in the in-between. For one, we now know Peter set this up as a ploy, to either inflict further harm upon my heart or to draw us away from Azalea. However, that still leaves us with too many questions about where the innocents are being held, Nolan’s mother and sister among them.

A third keening sound fills the air, this one long and drawn out. It’s time.

Two dragons that were behind with Lenox soar past me, briefly blocking the rays of the sun before quickly riding at the front, their sharp black talons holding what feels like the beginning of the end. As Harlow—in her raven form—approaches with the two black griffins, Aurora halts above the border of the palace grounds, Zephlyn following suit.

Knox comes to hover beside us, his eyes raking over every inch of the raven, checking for injuries. It would be difficult to find one on a bird, but whatever he sees seems to satisfy him enough to where he turns his attention to the two dragons that enter the skies above the palace grounds.

I hold my breath, in fear, in anticipation. The rest do the same. It hums in the sky around us, the air charged with a current of electricity as my Fae sight lands on my treehouse in the distance, now run-down and cold without the tender care of my and Easton’s hands. A well of emotions rises, sailing through the burning anger that keeps all other feelings at bay.

This was once my safe haven. But it hasn’t been for a long time.

Before its demise, it was the only place to bring me comfort in the days of the abuse Peter inflicted upon me. It was the only safe spot I could land. The only place I could breathe, the only spot that I could truly relax the muscles in my body. It was the only place I never had to be wary of Peter’s fists.

Staring at it now, I’m grateful for the comfort it offered me for years, for the memories it holds of me and Easton. I’m surprised to feel a part of me is dying inside, knowing all of it is about to be lost. But this place has been tarnished for a long time, ruined byhimthe moment I found those innocent creatures trapped at the compound, and I’ll be thankful when it’s gone.

I want to be the one a step ahead. I want to be the one doing the unthinkable. I want to prove him wrong, and wipe the smug look off his face as his insipid demons tell him,Delilah burnt it to the ground.

Unfortunately, that anger that I’ve been harboring for months wanes, because what no one tells you is that grief never truly goes away. We just become compliant with the way our heart aches daily. I want to feel the anticipation and satisfaction on getting the upper hand on him, like everyone else around me does in this moment, but suddenly my heart plummets.

Easton was the greatest loss of my life.

He was the person that breathed life into my soul, the one that could pull a smile from my face when I wanted to end it all. He kept me alive on the days I wanted to die, and no matter how much time has passed, I still look at his murder as my fault.

And here I am torching our childhood asylum to the ground.

Peter wants to break me, and without my anger to keep me going, I fear he will succeed. I can’t allow him to win, not only for the innocence of Aloriah but for Easton. After all, he didn’t keep me alive this long just for me to give up at the next sign of pain.

Steeling myself, I allow my rage to coil around me like a shield again as I shove my grief and sadness aside. Now when I gaze down at the treehouse, it’s with a heart made of golden flames.

As the dragons’ wings stretch to their full width, time seems to stop. They arc around the treehouse, their sharp gazes narrowed on their prey, then dive, the sight of it stealing my breath. My heartbeat slows to a nonexistent thump as their talons withdraw, releasing the item they were carrying.

With one mighty beat of their wings, they’re ascending once more—fast and hard this time. Trying to beat out the two black canisters now plummeting toward the ground at an alarming rate.

Barely any sound escapes, almost as if it was a pin dropping to the floor.

But what can be heard is what comes after it hits in the blink of an eye.

Knox activates a second shield, one extending to the returning dragons as a blinding white light explodes, the ground surrounding the treehouse uprooting. The fire blast climbs higher and higher, bursting in all directions. Leaving a path of destruction and chaos in its wake.

Within a matter of a millisecond, the treehouse is gone, leaving only a plume of smoke and a scattering of debris.

The aftershocks follow, barreling toward us, the Deyanira Mountains, and the palace itself. The wave eats up the distance between us within a single heartbeat, only to crash violently off Knox’s shield. He buckles against the force, his face tensing.

It only takes one peek down the bridge between our minds for me to discover how much power Knox is exerting to hold off the blast from entering the Fae lands. And only another second for me to raise my hands.

This was not a part of the plan. Knox will rip my head off once we’re safe, but it’s an easy decision, one that has my magic sighing as it rises.

Please don’t fail me, I whisper to my magic.

Tipping my head back, I submerge myself into my never-ending pool of golden power. It happens quickly, as if my power is scared I’ll change my mind and call it back. It races through my body, into my bones, and, before I can command it, explodes.