She spun, surprised. A man stood there. He looked to be in his sixties and seemed strangely familiar. But Alena couldn’t quite place him. His grin was wide.
“You begin to understand.”
“I don’t think I do.”
“You will.”
“What happens if I go through that gate?”
“You die.”
Though she hated to admit it, she felt the pull toward the gate. There was peace on the other side.
“I would ask that you don’t.”
She hadn’t even realized she’d taken a step towards the gate. She turned back to the older man. “Why not?”
“Because Brandt needs you. My empire needs you.”
Alena thought of the suffering she had caused. The death of Brandt’s wolfblades, the distress within her family. Azaleth. “Nobody needs me.”
The man held a knife in his hand by the point, extending the grip to her.
It was her father’s knife.
“Do you truly believe that?”
Alena looked at the gate. Its promise of everlasting peace called to her. She wouldn’t disappoint anyone ever again if she stepped through.
Then she looked at the knife.
She also wouldn’t have any chance of making things right. She had left Jace alone in those caverns. If she died, her family would lose both children in one day.
The man smiled, as though he was privy to her thoughts. She snatched the knife from him.
Turning away from the gate was the hardest thing she had ever done.
Brandt had questions. With every answer his queen gave him, he wanted to know more. Her tone, once patient, became strained. She didn’t want him asking questions. She wanted submission. He felt ashamed he couldn’t offer it to her. How he wanted to, though!
“What happened hundreds of years ago?” he asked instead.
“Nothing that concerns you!” she growled. Her gaze was no longer fixed on Brandt, but on something behind him. The sounds of battle had ended, and the result appeared to displease his queen.
When her gaze returned to him, it held ferocious intensity, the gaze of a stalking predator preparing to leap upon its prey. His queen was a fierce ruler, and he loved her even for that.
“Swear to me, now!” she demanded.
But the words wouldn’t come from his lips. He couldn’t force them past.
“Fine, then.” A sword appeared in her hand, a style Brandt had never seen. She raised it high, ready to take his life. His heart pounded with ecstasy as he bared his neck.
Then a cool breeze washed over him, restoring his sanity in this place of madness. His heart pounded not with expectation, but with fear. He rolled out of the way as the sword came down, cracking the stone that had been beneath him.
Brandt came to his feet, glancing back to see Alena, wreathed in power.
The Lolani queen’s look toward Alena was full of venom. “You took her to the gate, didn’t you?” Her eyes flashed. “You begin to understand. Too late, though.”
The skies above darkened and lightning crashed down, reminding Brandt of the attack on the monastery.
Alena stepped toward them, knife in hand. The queen snarled, “Enough. If you will not bow, get out of my way.”
A dozen spears appeared in the middle of nowhere, half a dozen aimed at each of the imperials. They launched. Brandt felt for the familiar hilt of his sword but grasped only air. Where was his sword?
The spears stopped before they reached him, though he heard the impacts of the spears aimed at Alena.
When he turned back, he saw three of them embedded deeply within her. Alena looked down, a look of surprise on her face. She sank to her knees, and again Brandt felt that now-familiar tug of desire towards the queen.
The skies went from dark to black, a starless night that bowed to the queen. Slowly, inexorably, Brandt felt himself falling to his knees again.
His queen smiled, a beautiful, vicious smile.
Pain formed the entirety of Alena’s world. Every breath she took moved the spears, causing a fresh wave of torment to wash through her body.
Even with her newfound power and the gatestone, Alena was no match for the Lolani queen. At best, she had caused the queen to stumble for a moment.
Alena wasn’t sure the queen had a limit. No matter what they did, she and Brandt had no chance. They couldn’t beat the queen.
Her body shuddered uncontrollably. Soon she’d make the trip to the gate herself.
Her eyes wandered over her surroundings. She stared at the rows of troops, eyes locked forward, oblivious to the fight in front of them. They looked only toward the gate.
The gate.
Alena followed their empty gazes.
They didn’t have to beat the queen.
They just needed to close the gate. The soulwalker who had opened it was now dead. If they closed it, the queen had no way of coming through.
But Alena couldn’t do it. The agony of movement was too much.
Brandt could, though.
Hating herself, Alena reached out with a single strand of thought, resting it on Brandt’s shoulder with the gentleness of a butterfly.
Brandt.
She felt him respond, his body tensing at the sound of her voice.
Break the gate.
Brandt fought to push himself to his feet. In this place, where the queen held such control, even such a small defiance took everything he had. Then she felt an answering thought. I have no weapon.
Alena almost laughed to herself. He still didn’t see. She pushed her understanding into his mind. Here, you are the weapon.
Then she summoned every scrap of strength she had and pushed it at him. She channeled the energy of the dead soulwalker, the gatestone, and her own flagging energy. She gave it all, because there was no point in holding back.
Blackness crowded the edges of her vision, but she continued to push.
She vowed to push until her last breath.
Brandt felt the queen’s hold on him diminish. He stood, well-balanced between his feet.
Alena fed him her own knowledge. Her own life.
Once again, those around him sacrificed themselves for him.
He sensed the queen’s attacks, her sword cutting at him. Energized by Alena’s efforts, his sword appeared in his hand. He deflected the queen’s strikes, but
