The Final Battle
The monstrous army stirred as dawn approached.
We had run out of options, and we had run out of time.
I hadn’t slept a wink. I had sat on my makeshift bed in the great hall staring into the fire, waiting to hear from Aiden. There had been no word. I hoped he had succeeded in killing Morgana and ending this war. But it looked like there was going to be no such luck.
The fortress was packed to bursting, with all the rooms and beds full of casualties from the last battle. Soldiers slept on the floors and in the various halls and corridors, preparing themselves for what was to come. They offered me a room they had made available, but I had no interest in sleep. I preferred to remain in the great hall and wait for word from Aiden.
The thud of drums began as Morgana’s horde began to march again. Today the fate of Avalonia would be decided, and we would need a miracle to win this time.
“Aurora.” Penelope’s voice was strained.
I looked up. “What’s the matter?”
“I think you’d better come and see.”
I followed Penelope to a wide balcony that overlooked the blood-soaked valley. Morgana was standing at the front of her army with a crown on her head.
She addressed the fortress, her voice amplified by magic. “Come out, Dawnstar. I know you are in there.”
An eerie silence followed.
“So, it seems you need a little persuasion.” Morgana shrugged and gestured for someone to join her.
My hand flew to my mouth as Skye dragged forward a barely conscious Aiden, bound in chains of blackened iron. She pushed him to the ground at Morgana’s feet. Six dark fae surrounded them, in case the Prince of the Day Court were to get free.
Skye had indeed betrayed us, but I never thought she would betray her brother like this.
“Hear me, Dawnstar,” Morgana warned. “If you come out and face me now, I will allow the others to live.” Her voice rose. “People of Avalonia,” she addressed my army. “Give up the Dawnstar and you shall all return to your homes tonight. If she doesn’t face me, you will never see your families again, and every one of you will die here today.”
Penelope put her hand on my shoulder, giving it a little squeeze. “You don’t have to do this. Every soldier here will fight for you with their dying breath.”
I shook my head. “I can’t let them do that while there is another choice.” I squared my shoulders, and my eyes narrowed. “I will meet with Morgana, and if I can get close enough to her, I can end this.”
My father stepped up first. “I will go with you.”
“No, I can’t let you. It’s me she wants. Once she has me, she will withdraw her army.”
“She will never do such a thing,” Tristan snarled.
Rafe walked over and put his arm around my waist, pulling me to him. “I am never letting you go alone, and that’s not up for discussion.”
“I, for one, have been waiting to get my hands on those dark fae.” Tristan drew his sword and threw a quick glance at Ashara. “What about you, witch?”
Ashara smiled, and the jewels on her staff started to glow. “Only if you let me go first, fae.”
The dark prince’s face lit up. “Fine, but just this once.”
Penelope clapped her hands together. “Now that that’s settled—” she gave our little band a once-over, “—let’s go.”
The Duke of Silverthorne’s voice bellowed over the battlements as he called for the gates to be opened. I drew Dawn and walked out onto the battlefield, flanked by Rafe, Tristan, and Ashara. Penelope, my father, Silverthorne, and Santino followed close behind.
My heart hammered in my chest. I ran my fingers over the Dagger at my belt. I had one chance to end this war.
“Lay down your weapons,” Morgana warned as we strode toward her. “If you accept me as your queen, you will be pardoned. Fight me, and all of you shall die here today.” Her voice grew, reaching a crescendo; she seemed to love to hear herself speak. “Surrender, Dawnstar, and your friends can return to their mundane lives.”
My father stepped out from behind me and faced her. His raven hair was neatly cut, although now generously peppered with silver strands. His beard, which had grown quite unruly in captivity, had been trimmed. He looked every inch the king he once had been. “That’s my crown you’re wearing, Morgana.”
A gasp went up from both sides, and everyone stilled. Azaren Firedrake was their true king, and everyone knew it.
Morgana reeled back at the sight of him. “It can’t be.”
The demon army became restless behind their queen. Drakaar and dark fae looked on with ravenous eyes, Shadow Demons swirling around them. Gorgoths hovered above, shrieking and waiting to pounce on us.
“Oh, but it is.” I smiled at my enemy. I called out to her army. “Soldiers of Illiador, you fight for a usurper. Azaren Firedrake is your king, and he is very much alive. Join me now, and fight for us, fight for Avalonia!”
A cheer went up from within Morgana’s army as the mages of Illiador realized what was happening and that what I said was true.
I raised my arm, the Dagger of Dragath flashing in my hand as I held it up for all to see. “The general is dead, Morgana.” I paused as her eyes betrayed her horror. “And so is Dragath.”
Another gasp from the army.
“Impossible!” yelled Morgana.
I grinned. “You always say that, Morgana. But I think I have proved to you time and time again that nothing is impossible.”
I felt a shift in the air around me as two brown-robed monks appeared beside me, the tops of their staffs glowing with a pure white light.
“Druids!” hissed Morgana. “I thought the general got rid of your pesky kind.”
“He tried,” Victor nodded.
