"So I should return to my silk sheets, rest my head on my soft pillow, and dream while my people suffer? I should run away and hide while they stare their greatest nightmare in the face?"
"What else can you do?"
"You don't—"
Xander stopped short, gritting his teeth to keep from revealing too much. It was a loyalty Cassi didn’t deserve. But maybe the loyalty was to Lyana, this queen of prophecy who had for a brief moment in time been his mate. She'd saved his life. Given the chance, maybe she'd return and save his people too.
With a sigh, he studied the stones beneath his feet. I'm the worst kind of fool, he thought, answering his own question. I'm the fool who chooses to believe even when all the evidence tells me otherwise.
"I don't what?" Helen asked.
You don't understand. Our world is going to end. Our kingdom is going to fall. There's an entire civilization made of magic hiding beneath the mist, and somehow I have to make my people believe the thing that terrifies them most in the world is the very thing that will save them.
Of all the ravens, she was probably the one who would respond best to the news. On some level, she knew what Rafe was, and she'd still trained him when no one else would. But she'd also dragged men and women kicking and screaming down the streets of Pylaeon, her knife at their throats as she led them to the executioner's block.
"Nothing, Helen," he murmured. "Never mind."
"What did the owl tell you?"
The edge of his lip lifted—the woman missed nothing—but this was a secret he wasn't ready to share. As Xander turned to bid her good night, a distant squawking caught his ear.
"Do you hear that?"
Her golden eyes narrowed. Together, they turned toward the noise. Across the broken city and at the very end of the river, above the cascading waters of Taetanos's Gate which glistened silver beneath the moon, the darkness shifted. Xander leaned forward, his toes scooting over the edge of the wall as he strained to see.
"It sounds like—"
"Ravens," he cut her off as the dark cloud moved rapidly across the sky, revealing the subtle sheen of obsidian feathers catching starlight. For a moment, he thought he saw a man within the mix, but as the flock rose, the shadows fell away and he was gone. A trick of the eye. "There."
"What are they doing out of the sacred nest?"
"I don't—"
The ground lurched and dropped fifteen feet. His wings caught him before he fell, but nothing could prevent his stomach from sinking all the way to the base of his floating kingdom. By the time he looked down, the island had dropped again, thirty feet this time.
She was telling the truth.
Part of him had wanted to doubt the prophecy, to think it was just another lie Cassi had spun, but deep in his gut, he knew it was real. And somehow, it was happening. That earthquake had been worse for a reason. He didn't know if that king had come back to finish the job, or if some other work of evil had been at play, but he knew in his soul that the magic in the god stone had failed, which meant one thing.
The island was falling.
"Take to the sky!" he shouted as he pumped his wings to cut across the city. "Take to the sky, now! Gather your children! Hold them if they're too young to fly!"
A hand grabbed his arm. "What is going on?"
"There's no time to explain." Xander spun to face Helen, wild adrenaline coursing through him. "You must get to my mother, now. Tell her to take to the sky, and make sure she listens. I'll find you when it's over."
"When what's over?"
Xander held her gaze, his lips trembling, but he didn’t know what to say. Instead, he turned and bellowed, "Take to the sky!"
The ground dropped again. He dove after it.
"Take to the sky! Take to the sky!"
His people were crying as they rushed into the night sky, wearing their nightgowns and underclothes, fear alive on their faces. Parents clutched their children to their chests, their fluffy wings unable to fly. The elderly struggled to remain airborne, the strength in their aged bodies already starting to give out. There were too many wounded to carry, so the unlucky lay stranded on the streets. All he'd ever wanted to do was keep his people safe, and he'd failed. The House of Whispers was dying before him, and there was nothing he could do but let it.
No, Xander thought, feeling as he had when he’d faced that dragon, as if he needed to go, as if he needed to do, as if he needed to scream at the world just to hear it bellow back. No, this can't be the end.
Maybe he couldn't fight with a shield and sword. Maybe all he had were words and heart, but they were weapons all their own. He was done waiting, done watching, done hoping for an answer to fall into his lap. There was no prophecy to his name. There was no magic in his skin. There was no noble fate written across the stars. But he was still a prince, these were still his people, and no matter how powerless the world deemed him, he wouldn't abandon them.
Somehow, someway, he would save them.
Before he had time to question, Xander hugged his wings to his back and plummeted headfirst from the sky, ignoring the shouts of his guards. Just as he reached the city street, the isle finally gave out. He gripped a black archway with both arms, hugging that godly gateway to his chest, a mix of prayer, determination, and fear alive inside his heart.
As his kingdom fell from the sky, he fell with it.
Together, they were swallowed by the mist.
50
Lyana
"What was that?" Rafe asked, a tremor to his voice. They stared into the mist as though they could burn it away, hoping to catch one glimpse of the world above the fog.
"I don't know."
"But it was…"
"Yes."
They were birds. They knew without even trying which way was north or south, east or west, and they would never be so lost they couldn't find their way home. The magic had come from the House of Whispers. She'd bet her life on it, and the fear in Rafe's tone made it clear he thought the same.
"Lyana!" Malek called. She spun to find him behind her, golden power surrounding his fingertips as the flames parted to let him pass. "Do you feel it? It's begun."
"What?"
"The prophecy."
Rafe squeezed her hand, drawing her gaze. "What is he saying? What does he mean?"
"I'm not—"
"You know," Malek murmured darkly. His dark blue eyes were as wild as a raging sea, something unleashed deep within them. Rafe gripped her tighter, as though he too could sense the brewing storm. "You know exactly what I mean."
Lyana closed her eyes against the truth.
It couldn’t be. Not so soon.
But as she dove into her power and reached with all her spirit for the rift, there was no denying Malek was right. The yawning abyss at the center of their world had grown wider. The spell fighting to keep it contained was weaker, no longer anchored by seven bright spots of magic but six. One was missing. One was gone. One had fallen. Now the other six dimmed, their lights already starting to sputter out as the strength holding them together unraveled.
"What will happen?" she whispered, still deep in her magic.