“This is really a priority right now?”
Memphis was unhinged, and his voice rose serval octaves, “How long?”
“How long what?”
“Have you been lying to me?”
Spitting on the ground, Brokk jabbed his half-formed claws into Memphis’s chest. “Memphis, how do I explain something I don’t understand? That I never wanted? How can I tell you about a part of myself that I fear most above anything? I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to admit it to myself.”
“That’s not answering the question.” Memphis’s voice was a whisper, and Brokk growled. Memphis knew they had to go now, but the world had stilled, and it was just them. Just this.
Brokk was shaking. “Our world is falling apart. Adair is waging war. Emory is on a different planet, and all you care about is that I haven’t been telling you one secret? One?”
Memphis snapped, “Yes, I do care because we have always been able to trust each other. But everything is a lie. Emory knew. Why didn’t you think to tell me? And now she won’t know anything, thanks to me. Not you. Not this world. Not me.”
“Emory found out by chance, Memphis. I never wanted her to know. Never.”
The words hung between them, as their silent argument did before. Memphis was reluctant but knew Brokk was right. He normally was.
“She can’t live a life that is always torn in two. She would never move on, never fully experience what that life would offer her. Is that what you want?” Brokk asked.
“I want her to be here. I want us to be together,” Memphis said.
Brokk stalked up to him, spitting in his face. “What, so she can die? Stop whining and look at the reality. Adair can hunt her down, manipulate her, and use her like he did with Roque and Nei.”
Brokk shoved his chest hard, and Memphis said, “Get away from me, now.”
“No, for once, here’s the ugly truth, Memphis. She didn’t feel the same way that you do. Your image of your relationship and life together will never be what she wants. As one of her best friends, trust me, I know. She had a crush on you, and you have been in love with her for years.”
Both of their chests were heaving, Memphis’s ability churning with his anger. He was ready to tear through and obliterate something when the pieces became blaringly clear. How many times had Brokk used this powerful ability? Did Memphis even truly know his best friend?
“Get away from me. You have been controlling this situation all along. Have been controlling her all along. Me too.”
Brokk scoffed. “You’ve got to be joking, right? Memphis, no.” He shook his head, stepping closer.
“Get away from me.”
The ground shuddered beneath their feet, their impending doom clawing closer. Memphis stared at the sky, ashes floating and cascading down at them, overtaking and blotting out any color that lingered there. Looking past Brokk, the first line of dabarnes roared toward them, their festering skin and bloodied teeth coming into focus.
Fear curled into Memphis’s heart—all along he thought he could be a savior of the Academy. Now, there was no guarantee that he would ever see Emory again, or that they would survive this day.
Shifting his weight, he turned, his decision steeling in his heart.
Something heavy slammed into his temple, and the world spun into a giant mass. He saw Brokk’s face, his eyebrows knitting together as he whispered, “Hold on. Please.”
Memphis dropped, his body colliding with ice, and he was plunged into oblivion.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Adair
Landing on the ground in a plume of smoke, Adair’s fingers dug into the dirt, as the sun broke over the horizon. The smoke settled, curling around his feet in black and purple hues. The brisk morning air collected dew, and as he rose, small puffs of mist flared in front of him.
“My King?”
The dabarne’s voice brushed up against his mind, and the creature prowled to his side when he stood. It was a question and a recognition, and Adair bared his teeth as he fixated on the city in front of them. They had traveled through the night, groups of his army breaking off, Adair feeling the shifts of energy like stars streaking across constellations, creating a beautiful serenade of screams that followed him from below.
His fire. His carnage.
He rolled his neck slowly, bones cracking. Sarthaven and his father waited for him down below.
A distant thought tugged at his mind. Once, a lifetime ago, this city had been his lifeline, his hope to explore and to create. Swallowing hard, the thought dissipated, as another thought filled his mind, the magic ripping through his bloodstream, building and building.
“I go in first, alone. Cesan is mine.”
Approving roars and cackles rippled behind him as he unsheathed the Curse, his reflection shimmering in the steel, distorted by blood.
Looking up, he stalked toward the city that once was said to bustle with life, flourish with culture. It was the heart of their country, where trading routes were established with the Shattered Isles, where the first King of Kiero sat on his throne, where the monarchy was built and then destroyed.
Now, red and black smears stained the ivory towers. Adair shivered, clenching his blade tighter as the first wall of magic hit him like a breaking wave against a rock.
Smoke curled, floating above the streets, and he could hear the distant cries, the shuddering roars.
So, not all the dabarnes came to the Academy.
His footfalls were soft against the dirt, the late summer air humid, making his clothes stick. The homes and towers curled up in the sky, and as he drew closer, the true might of the city unfurled around him. Excitement surged through him when he approached the blackened gates, the curled metal creating beautiful designs reflecting a night sky.
The tang of magic intensified, as a guttural growl sounded behind the gates when they slowly opened.
