“Gareth?” Roan said aloud, sensing the king of the east was still within earshot.
“I’m here.”
“Will you hold me?”
“Of course.”
The rustle of trampled undergrowth crackled and then warmth enveloped him.
I’m ready, he said. Gareth’s cheeks were touching his now, wet and warm. He wasn’t certain who was crying, perhaps both of them, but it felt right. He was the tenth and final ruler—a truth he’d been running from his entire life, not because he feared death but because he feared the responsibility that came along with it.
He wasn’t scared any more.
The halfmarked linked hands and he felt all that was left of their power rush over him, through him, a surge that was much like throwing oil on a fire.
Life, he thought. White light burst from his chest, shooting into the sky, brightening it even further, cascading across the heavens like a brilliant, sparkling waterfall.
You have done well, a voice said, and he recognized it as the one from before—the Western Oracle speaking through her final creation, the peacemarked girl who was his niece, Noura.
And Roan smiled.
Gareth
He held him until long after it was over, Roan’s head cradled between his head and chest, pressed against his neck. Gareth’s tears streamed down his cheeks, dripping from his chin, soaking Roan’s shirt and shimmering on his own armor.
Eventually, the light faded. Eventually, Roan’s heart stopped beating.
But still Gareth held Roan. The moment would have to last forever.
Finally, Gwen said, “Gareth. Is he…”
He nodded, unable to open his eyes for fear of breaking down.
“I—I’m sorry.”
Those two words were meant entirely for him, that much he knew. She was grieving too, and yet she was worried about how he was feeling. “I’m sorry, too,” he said, the words just for Gwendolyn. They could easily be enemies because of their shared love for this man, but chose another way, the way Roan would’ve wanted for them. They chose to be friends.
And then her arms encircled him and they cried together until he heard a sound more magnificent than any before.
It was the sound of singing.
Annise
As Annise stood on the killing fields wondering whether she was dreaming, the sky had lit up, brighter white even than it had been before. A pillar of light had emerged from the forest, spreading over everything. Tendrils of light had fallen like silver stars, touching those who lay dying or injured.
And then they had arisen, one by one, blinking at the light, wonderment on their faces.
She swore some of them had been dead, only to be granted life by that brilliant, beautiful light.
None of the barbarians arose, the light avoiding them as if by some grand design.
Zelda approached her, a thin smile creasing the edges of her lips. “Helluva a fight, aye?” she said.
Annise shook her head and hugged her aunt. “Are you all right? I know your brother was once—”
The stocky woman pulled away sharply. “No need to be mushy about it,” she muttered. “Got any food?”
Annise laughed, glad that things hadn’t changed too much. Sir Christoff Metz approached at a march and saluted, standing at attention. “Orders, Your Highness?” he asked. Mona Sheary stood back a step, clearly trying not to burst out laughing.
“Frozen hell,” Annise said. “Kiss your woman already.” His eyes widened and he nodded, turning away. “And don’t polish your armor for at least a day!” she added.
Everywhere, people hugged and spoke in soft voices. Some dropped to their knees, looking to the light in the sky, which was beginning to fade. Others mourned those who had died too early in the battle to be brought back. Emotions were high and Annise felt touched by all of them.
And then they began singing. It started with a small group of northerners who’d joined hands. The song was an old poem written during the years of peace that had preceded the Hundred Years War. It was titled The Mark of Peace. As they sang, others began to join them. The easterners first, both human and Orian, and then, as they began the second time through, the Phanecians and Terans as well, picking up lyrics they’d probably never heard before:
The peace of dawn stretches sky to sky,
Once forbidden, once a lie,
Now a place to rest our heads,
An end to war, an end to dread.
Fighting long and all for this?
Aye, no lion to roar, no snake to hiss,
Forgotten dreams now brighten the east,
For we are finally touched, with the mark of peace.
Annise tried to join them, but her voice escaped her, her vision blinded. Each tear was filled with images of her brother and mother, one she’d known too well and the other not nearly enough. There were tears for Sir Jonius too, her loyal protector to the end. She cried for them. She cried for them and others she’d lost. Her people, her allies. She cried for those who’d lived too, because they were no less worthy. She cried until a voice stopped her.
“I see you,” the voice said. Those words caused her to choke on another sob, because they were too soon after the battle to be possible. She hadn’t even looked for Tarin, for she knew he’d given himself over to the monster fully. He’d done it for her and for the Four Kingdoms even knowing he might never be able to come back from it. He shouldn’t be here. He should be fighting that inner war against himself for several days.
But he was. He was here.
She turned and found Tarin Sheary standing before her, his helmet removed, cast aside somewhere. His eyes locked on hers and they were wide and full of the same wonder she’d felt when she watched the dead and injured rise.
“I see you,” he said again.
Annise stepped forward slowly, careful not to startle him. “What did you expect to see?” she asked.
“After the monster…I usually see only darkness, shadowy wraiths. That’s why I don’t stay around. That’s why I…” He trailed away, shaking his head. “Not this time. The light—it touched me.”
“Your monster?”
“Still in me, somewhere, but its bloodlust is sated. For now.”
Annise smiled and ran to him, throwing her arms around him, leaping into his arms and wrapping her legs around his hips. Here, in public, it was decidedly unqueenlike, but frankly she didn’t give a frozen hell anymore.
She kissed him, long and deep and it was Tarin and not a stranger. When they finally broke apart, both breathless, he said, “You’re smiling.”
“Yes.” Her smile grew. “I am.”
“How can you smile when your eyes are full of tears?”
She considered the question. There were so many reasons, but one rested at the core of it all. “Because of you. It’s always because of you.”
He kissed her again, and his tears joined hers, dark lines tracing his cheeks.
“I love you, Tarin Sheary,” she whispered against his lips.
“And I you, my queen.”
Lisbeth
The knight’s chipped and battered soul had never looked so radiant as it did now.
“David,” Lisbeth said, expecting him to glide slowly toward her in that graceful way of his.
Instead, Sir Dietrich raced toward her, stopping just in time to avoid a collision, picking her up and spinning her twice around before setting her lightly back on her feet. She’d never known him to be frivolous or mirthful, so the abrupt change in him drew a startled laugh from her lips.
“I want to feel your soul,” he whispered into her ear.
“Now?” she said.
“Yes,” he said. “Now.”
When Lisbeth had arrived in this world, she had felt giddy and alive. Soon she’d learned it was a harsh place, foreign to her in many ways. But now, she finally felt like she understood the purpose of all the challenges. How could one laugh if they’d never cried? How could one experience true joy if they’d neve
r looked true loss in the eye? How could one love if they hadn’t experienced the darkness of hate?
Her soul melted into his and she laughed, joy and love filling both their souls.
She could’ve stayed in that place with him forever, but on the edge of her soul she felt another familiar presence.
I’m sorry, she said to Dietrich.
It’s okay, he said, understanding. This won’t be the last time.
She smiled as their souls separated. He squeezed her hand one final time and then slipped away, touching the shoulder of the newcomer before departing.
The newcomer’s tall triangular face was marred by a slash on one cheek, a bright white mar on his otherwise bright soul.
“You came,” she said. She could feel the loss burning in his soul. Parts of that loss felt ancient, gathering dust over the years, while others were as fresh as the wound on his face.
“I did,” Zur said, speaking in the common tongue. “The Garzi are no cowards.”
“No,” Lisbeth said. “They are not. They are heroes.”
“Your words give me honor.”
She shook her head. “Your honor is all your own. You have built it with your hands, your actions. I hope—I hope this isn’t the last time your people visit these lands.”
His soul bobbed, a nod. “I do not think it will be.”
Lisbeth nodded. “Did your people suffer many losses?” Her soul searched for the familiar souls of the Garzi warriors, surprised to find most of them accounted for.
“Yes. But the light in the sky brought most of us back. Myself included.”
“I am…glad.” It was too weak a word for what Lisbeth wanted to say, but her throat was too tight to say more.
“The Pact has been broken by both sides,” Zur said. “A new Pact can be forged. Will you help us?
“Of course. And thank you. For everything.”
Zur said, “Thank you. I am finally at peace over my daughter’s death.” He seemed to bite back a swell of emotion. “She is my courage now.”
Rhea
Rhea wondered if she would ever let go of her daughter again. She knew she would have to—Grey was practically hovering over them both, trying to get his turn—but it wouldn’t be today. “Noura,” she said. “My beautiful Noura.” She wanted to give the world to her daughter, wanted to live every day for her. I will, she thought. I will. It was the least she could do for the girl who had saved her well before she’d helped to save the Four Kingdoms.
Grey’s soft lips brushed her cheek, alternating between her and their daughter. She closed her eyes and, for the first time since the night they’d created Noura, simply existed.
“Rhea,” a voice said, forcing her eyes back open.
Shae stood before her, along with Erric. Rhea knew what they’d both almost done…again. She knew they’d held her daughter’s life in their very hands and considered ending it for the sake of the Four Kingdoms. The last time they’d tried such a thing she’d hated them for it, had felt the familiar fires of vengeance blaze to life in her chest. She’d—barely—resisted the pull then, but this was different now, their actions repeated.
The old Rhea would’ve confronted the threat head on, would’ve raged and punished and felt good about it. But that Rhea was gone and she understood the corner they’d been backed into. And it wasn’t just Noura’s life they’d been willing to sacrifice, but their own too. For the greater good. And that made them heroes.
“Shae. Erric. Come here. Kiss my daughter’s forehead. Tickle her. Listen to her laugh. It will change you forever.”
Just as it changed me, she thought, spotting another familiar figure approaching. In the background was a pirate ship, its sails flapping in the breeze. On any other day, that might’ve been strange.
The one approaching was Kyla, a woman who might still be a challenger for Grey’s heart. Rhea saw Grey stiffen, his eyes flicking to hers. She didn’t feel jealous, however, not anymore. If this woman had helped Grey become the man he was now, then she was thankful for her. And Grey’s heart was his own to give, and he’d already chosen her and Noura. “Go to her,” she said. “Make your peace.”
Grey
Grey was surprised by Rhea’s acquiescence. Yes, she’d changed in many ways during their time apart, but she was still full of the fire that made her who she was—the love of his life. He’d thought she was more likely to dig Kyla’s eyeballs out and make her eat them than suggest he go make his peace with her. He stepped forward obediently, else it be his eyeballs dug out.
Kyla stopped just before him. She was as beautiful as ever, her dark eyes like unlit coals, her smooth brown skin marred by splashes of blood. She looked every bit the warrior pirate she’d become as they’d journeyed to Pirate’s Peril and back.
“Thank you,” Grey said. “You saved us.”
Kyla nodded, her eyes wandering to the massive ship furrowed into the dirt.
“Lisbeth can move it back to the sea for you once she recovers her strength,” Grey said.
Kyla nodded again, her eyes distant.
“Where will you go?” Grey knew it wasn’t his place to ask, but he couldn’t help his own curiosity.
Her gaze landed on his, sharpening. “Go to hell,” she said. She stalked past, bumping him slightly in the shoulder. He watched her stride over to help her seamen, who were digging a shallow grave for several of those they’d lost in the battle. Grey longed to help, but felt like an outsider now.
And when he turned back to Rhea, he found her watching him, her eyes keen and knowing.
All he wanted to do was fall into her arms.
She is my family now.
Falcon
“Sonika?” Falcon said, his voice croaky and weak. He looked across the portion of the battlefield where the fighting had been the most intense. Like him, Sonika was pinned to the ground. Unlike him, she wasn’t moving.
“Ruahi, give me strength,” he prayed, digging his fingers into the ground and dragging him out from beneath the massive barbarian that had died atop him. His leg screamed in pain—he was fairly certain it was broken—but he gritted his teeth and soldiered on inch by agonizing inch, tumbling over the dead, blood smearing from the ground onto his leather armor. He’d been mostly healed by the brilliant light that had coursed across the sky—Roan’s final gift, he knew—but the damage to his leg was so severe it would require time and rest.
Falcon jolted when he reached Sonika, because her eyes were open and staring up at the sky. No, please, gods, no…
She blinked and his heart almost stopped.
“It’s so beautiful,” she murmured.
Falcon released a breathy laugh. “What is?”
“The sky. Have you ever looked at it?”
“Of course.” Falcon slumped to the ground, rolling over onto his back to stare skyward.
“No. I mean really looked. Shanti used to do it all the time. I always gave her a hard time about it. I was too busy worrying about what was happening on the ground to consider the heavens. She was a dreamer.”
Falcon saw what she meant. The sky was beautiful. Though the preternatural light had faded, giving way to a darker firmament, the stars were now visible again, thousands of glittering beads. At the sky’s apex, the two moons were a breath away. They wouldn’t kiss on this night, but they would soon.
“You’ve known Shanti much longer than I have,” Falcon said, watching the moons, wishing they could reach out and touch each other. “Is she going to be all right?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Thank you for being honest. People tend to lie in situations like this.”
“I’ve faced too much in my life to seek comfort in lies.” One of Sonika’s hands stretched skyward and she pretended to pluck a star from the heavens, inspecting it. Both her hand and arm were sheathed in blood.
“Are you badly injured?”
“I was. Roan healed me, like he healed everyone else. I’m mostly just sore now.”
“My leg is
broken. But it was crushed before. Now it’s not so bad.”
“Bloody fatemarked,” Sonika said, shaking her head. “Think they can fix everything.”
Falcon snorted. “Aye. Jai was such a damn do-gooder.”
“We could use more like him,” Sonika said. “More like you too.”
Warmth filled Falcon’s chest. “Thank you. For saying that and for saving my life. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye.”
It was Sonika’s turn to chuckle. “That’s a nice way of putting it. I’ve despised your family my entire life. What the Hoza’s stood for. The oppression of the Terans. I used to daydream about killing you and your brothers with my bare hands.”
“And now?”
“Not as often.” Sonika offered a wry smile.
“Good to know.”
“You aren’t like them, Falcon,” she said, her voice growing serious again. “You can rule the empire the way it’s meant to be ruled.”
Falcon knew she was right. He could. But he wouldn’t. It wasn’t what he wanted, and between Jai, Shanti, and Sonika, he was convinced Phanes needed to take another path forward. “No,” he said. “It’s time for things to change.”
The moons passed in the night, watching each other with longing.
Gareth
Roan was tall and strong, but between Gareth and Gwen, carrying him should have been easy.
It wasn’t. It was the hardest thing Gareth had ever had to do. Each step forward was a mile. Each obstacle in their path was a mountain. He felt the stares on him like a thousand arrows. He saw the living—so many who wouldn’t have survived if not for Roan’s final act, his great sacrifice.
He knew he was going to do this from the beginning, Gareth thought. He knew and he told no one, carrying this burden all on his own. That, more than a sword or shield might have, made him the most courageous warrior Gareth had ever known.
“Where are we going?” Gwen whispered.
“To the end,” Gareth said. “Roan deserves to be there at the end. Forever.”