The blue light from the crystals grew brighter until it was nearly blinding. The Warden’s body seemed to catch that light and hold it for a split second too long.

The image of Christmas lights and dangling plastic icicles popped into her head.

A moment later, the blue blaze from the crystals winked out, its magic complete.

All around her, the leaves turned black and shriveled. Branches began to fall with dry, brittle crashes. Inside, the wood had turned to ash.

Her fingers burned like they’d been lit on fire, and they, too, started to blacken.

Whatever magic those crystals used to destroy the stone, it was killing everything else in the area, too. Including her.

The flames were gone, but the damage was already done.

The Warden saw that it was too late. It opened its mouth, letting out a scream that sounded like wind chimes in a blender. Its face twisted with rage. It turned to her, lifted a crystalline sword, gripped it in both hands, and swung it right at her head.

There was nothing she could do to avoid it. She was too close, too dizzy, too weak. She couldn’t dodge or run—not with the reach the Warden had on her. And even if she could get away, the magical radiation she’d been exposed to wouldn’t let her get far.

An odd kind of surreal calm swept over her as she realized that this was how she died. This was how she set Torr free.

Chapter 32

Torr knew the second he saw that the box of crystals was missing. He knew what had happened. There wasn’t a scrap of doubt in his mind.

Grace had decided to risk her life to save everyone else.

“You are too late, young Theronai,” said Brenya from the doorway of her hut. “Grace is already gone, her choice—her willing sacrifice—complete.”

Like hell it was.

He grabbed Brenya’s rough clothes and dragged her to her feet with a hard shake. “Send me to her. Teleport me there.”

“Why? Her choice has been made. She has freed you.”

“I don’t want to be free. Not from her.”

“I will demand payment for this, young Theronai.”

“Anything you want. I vow it.”

She stared at him for too long, each second ticking by like an eternity. “I accept.”

The weight of such an open-ended vow nearly crushed him. He could hardly breathe. His skin was so heavy he thought it might peel from his bones. A strangled scream erupted from his chest. He clamped his lips shut over the noise to save what little breath he had left.

“Gather yourself,” ordered Brenya.

With that command came a sense of relief. The weight dissipated, and the pain started to fade.

Something small and heavy was shoved into his hands. He clutched it, willing to carry whatever she gave him. It took him a moment to realize it was the bag of stones she’d made him.

“Draw your hammer, warrior. I am certain you will have need of it.”

He shoved the stones into his pocket and did as she ordered. After a few rapid blinks, his vision cleared enough for him to see the fine line of light forming in front of him.

Brenya gave him a hard shove, and when he stepped forward, his foot met soft ground. The air smelled different, colder. He could hear a terrified sob.

Grace.

He lifted his hammer as the light from Brenya’s portal faded. Across the clearing, he could see a Warden pull back its sword. Through its body he saw a warped vision of Grace on her knees.

All around them, the forest rained down blackened leaves. Charred branches fell, spilling piles of ash.

He had no idea what had happened, but the whole place was falling down around them.

If you can see the crystals’ blue fire, you are already too late. It will destroy all in its reach.

The portal stone was charred, black and crumbling. The magic of the crystals had already been activated. The blue fire had already gone out.

A sickening feeling bloomed in the pit of Torr’s stomach. He prayed he was wrong—that Grace had taken cover and hadn’t been in reach of the blast.

Across the clearing, the Warden screamed in rage. It lifted its blade, clearly intending to kill her.

Her hands flew up in front of her face, as if she could stop it.

A surge of angry denial filled Torr. No one was taking his Grace away. Not ever again.

He ripped a stone from his pocket. The rest of the stones spilled onto the ground, but there was no time to pick them up. He spit on the one in his hand.

The Warden appeared in front of him, summoned away from Grace. Its blade came down only inches from his head. He lifted his hammer to shield himself from the blow.

“Run, Grace!” he shouted.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her push to her feet. She wobbled heavily, as if she were drunk. She took only two steps before she stumbled and caught herself on the crumbling remains of the portal stone.

Something was definitely wrong with her. He prayed it was a blow to the head and not the magical radiation making her sway.

. . . already too late.

Torr used a series of powerful moves to disengage his hammer from the Warden’s blade. When the brief opening to step back came, he took it and ran.

He could feel the ground shake with each heavy step of the crystalline warrior hard on his heels. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay ahead of it for long, but his intent was only to get it away from Grace—out of sight of her so she was no longer a target.

Finally, when the trees closed in around them, he turned and faced his opponent.

Chapter 33

A pair of sleek black Hunters stalked into the clearing.

Grace was sure that they would kill her on sight, but instead, they took one look at her, then dismissed her as unimportant.

Either that, or they knew she was already dead.

She could feel her insides dying, feel the rapid decay of her flesh. The charred appearance along her fingertips was creeping upward, burning hot for only a second before her nerves were consumed.

She didn’t have long. Torr was already fighting the Warden—she could hear the battle being waged only a few yards inside the trees—and now two Hunters were closing in for the kill as well. She had to do something, but throwing herself in front of those Hunters was only going to slow them down for half a second.

Knowledge of the landscape came to her easily, as if she’d roamed every inch of the surrounding area for years. There was a place not far from here—one that might give Torr a fighting chance to survive.

She gathered a handful of the stones he’d dropped and ran as fast as her burning body would carry her. She knew exactly what the stones could do, even though she’d never seen them before. The knowledge was familiar, tinged with Brenya’s regal dominance and wisdom.