Dawn of Ash (2 page)

“I’m never leaving the cathedral again,” Risha growled from somewhere behind me as yet another stream of light moved past me, my magic alerting me to the danger late enough that I watched the bright red blade cut through my hair, long lengths of gold falling to the ground.

For a moment, my heart stopped, scared the délka vedení královsk had been lost, but the long length of ribbon was still wrapped around my wrist, kept safe in the only way I knew how in these situations.

“You said that last week, Risha,” I growled as I destroyed another man, the older gentleman crumpling to the ground like improperly made origami.

“This time, I mean it.”

I clenched my teeth at her determination, jaw tightening as my shoulders did, my temper continued to rise dangerously.

Another man collapsed at my hand, my magic scurrying in a mad attempt to keep us ahead of the fray, only to freeze as the entirety of the narrow street lit up in a bright yellow blaze. Heat moved over us as the luminescence shone over every lifeless body, every smear of blood, revealing the destruction that Prague had become in ribbons of light that made the dilapidated city all the more frightening.

The light washed over us, waves of iron following behind, wrapping around me with the force of a weapon. It was a weapon that, if I didn’t fight, would destroy us all, friend and foe.

Grimacing at the effort, I broke free of the attack, glittering trails of crimson streaking away from me and toward every one of my people. My scream of exertion ricocheted around us as my magic broke through the attack, ripping the bands from their bodies, releasing them from the deathly bind.

Heaving, I fell to the ground alongside Edmund’s men, my body weak from the exertion, while Edmund’s deformed army lay, gasping dying breaths, their own attack taking their lives in a slow, painful end.

I would rejoice in the luck of such a ploy, but I wasn’t a fool.

I could already hear the wings.

The light would bring more Vilỳs to us, and with no quick escape route, our only chance was to go up right as Vilỳs were coming down.

Heart pounding violently, I jumped up, muscles shaking with exertion that I had to ignore. “Risha, I need you to take them up. Fly to the Young Prince, keep your head down, and move on to the Old Man. Use the river as a guide to mask the magic. Meet me on the high point. They are coming.” I didn’t need to say anything more. Risha was already nodding in understanding, not a moment passing before she shot ropes of green from her fingers, each powerful strand of magic attaching to one of the Skȓíteks, one of the survivors who had traveled with us.

The poor, undertrained Chosen screamed in fear as the power moved into them, connecting them to her in a tether they could not break. Risha’s grating yell of exertion followed her into the air, her powerful magic forcing a wind to swirl and move as it swept her and her charges up and up, away from the battle. Away from the danger this city always provided. Away from me and what I was about to do.

I couldn’t wait to verify their ascent.

Standing, I leered at my father’s men who continued to move through the alleys, right to the lone man standing amidst destruction and death. I could see their anger, see their intent. And so, I let mine free. I let the temper, the anger, the magic free.

Free from the carefully crafted cage I always kept it locked in.

It moved into the monsters that surrounded me, attack after attack felling man, woman, and tiny, winged beasts. Everything was illuminated as I stood, surrounded by death. My heart was racing, muscles tensing, when out of nowhere, a scream I recognized broke through the death, broke through the light, broke through the battle I was trapped in.

Joclyn.

She was screaming. I could feel her fear, hear her cries as she lay miles from me, trapped in one of the many nightmares her sight had plagued her with for the past few months. Our connection opened up within me as I fought. My magic swelled, her fear ripping through me in agony, in an emotional prison that, even if I hadn’t been preoccupied, I couldn’t have saved her from.

Listening to her scream as I continued to fight, my chest constricted painfully, but I kept up the attacks, her magic continuing to move into me, strengthening me, filling me, controlling me in dangerous waves of frightening ability.

Joclyn’s magic supercharged my own past what I was capable of, the darkness and terror of her sight pulling my magic into a deadly concoction that felled one after another, many of them turning to nothing more than smoke and faded memories.

Teeth clenched, chest heaving, I continued to fight, focusing on Joclyn’s magic, on her fear, knowing what I needed to do. It was the only way I could calm her.

“Joclyn!” I yelled aloud, letting my magic smother her as Edmund’s men kept coming, flowing through the streets, flooding the space that was growing smaller.

I smiled as my power grew within me like a warm water bottle of determination.

I was out of time.

With one powerful stream of magic, I turned, red and yellow light flying right into the broken foundation of the building that was threatening to collapse and, without warning, sending it to the ground.

Right on top of me.

Joclyn’s magic erupted as mine did, the two joining together in a powerful force that encompassed me in a barrier so strong that, as I stood still, I could watch tons of ancient architecture crumbling around me.

The dust settled as I remained untouched, standing in an upturned fish bowl, witnessing the fall of something that had once been beautiful.

My heart rate increased as Joclyn’s did, as images of her sight flashed before me, a battle eerily similar to the one I had ended replaying right before my very eyes.

“Wake up, můj navždy,” I said, my voice echoing through the shield as I surveyed the damage, making one last sweep for any life that might choose to follow me before taking off into the sky, the shielded globe ascending around me, dust falling away from my movement like the tail of a kite.

“Wake up!” I spoke aloud to my mate as the blood of her sight flowed over her, her heart rate so fast within me I was sure some monster was trying to break free from the inside of my chest as well as hers.

With a graceful step, I landed on the rooftop of the highest point—the tall, lookout building I had told Risha to meet me at. My tension was still high with fear of the possibility that she and the others might not have made it as the shield fell away with the faintest pop, the solitary sound loud in the silence after the battle I had escaped.

There was only the faint red of the world, only the hot breeze that moved through my hair as I stood, heart pounding, on the high rooftop, looking over the city I was raised in, the city I was now trapped in. The city that had quickly become a prison.

Wake up, mi lasko!
I tried again, this time sending the call right into her mind, and I was grateful when her heart rate slowed, the heavy influx of her magic regulating.

I could still feel her fear, still feel her panic, but it was mixed with reality now, the uncertainty and anxiety of nightmares leaving. Still, she was silent, and even through the temporary calm, my heart rate picked up.

“Mi lasko?” I breathed, sending the words right into her mind as the fright left. “Are you all right?”

Ilyan, s
he finally replied, her voice a calm wave.

With one word, my heart relaxed, my soul calmed, and although I had escaped the literal destruction of yet another part of this beautiful city…

It was still home.

She made it that way.

I could hear him crying, the boy’s soft whimpers ringing through the cave in a mournful sound that tensed through me. The distorted sobs were so mangled I wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying. It was just the broken echo of pain and sadness, the feral growl of some beast following behind. The sounds rippled across the space in a pressure that was hard to breathe through, my heart tensing in expectation of what I was walking toward, of what was ahead.

Peering through the black and blue striation of light, I tried to find him, tried to see. But the deep blue of the moon cast confusing shadows over the rocks of the cave.

Everything shook as the child cried again, as though the sound of his cries would bring everything crumbling down. Dust fell like snow, covering me, smothering me, surrounding me until it was all I could see, the vision shifting, buzzing in my ears like television static that pulled me out of the reality I thought I was trapped in.

No, not a reality, only the distorted future that drifted in and out of focus before landing in the deep red glow of my sight, my vision shifting with a jolt to the same derelict, red-tinged streets of Prague that I walked every day, that I surveyed every day, that I fought in just as often.

That I fought in now.

A herd of running feet and heaving breaths surrounded me as the sight became clear. The crash of an attack resounded somewhere before us, and despite a part of me wanting to run the other way, I still continued forward, my prescience guiding me through a tight alley and right into the fray of battle where Ilyan and Risha were surrounded by men, Ilyan holding one by the neck as he fought more than a dozen others.

I fought, grunting, as I joined them. Magic exploded, exactly as it did every time Edmund’s men attacked in the city, whether in premonition or in life. This time, however, it was broken by the same electronic noise that had haunted my sight for months. Everything cutting in and out until it stopped.

No, I stopped.

The battle continued as I stood there with flashes of magic beating through the sound of death. But I could not move. I stood, staring at a tall, muscular figure who was walking through the battle toward me, their body shrouded in a dark cape, face hidden.

Sound drained from the world, leaving only the thunder of my heart, as I stood, surrounded by death, the smell of blood, and heavy smoke.

While I watched in wide-eyed horror, the man before me slowly pulled down the hood, revealing not the man I expected, but Wyn with a wide, nefarious smile, the look so similar to Edmund’s that, before I knew it, I was screaming.

The sound of my terror echoed in my ears, but I didn’t know if it was trapped in sight or ricocheting through reality.

Wyn stared at me, the smile spreading farther as bloodstained teeth appeared behind thin lips. My scream grew before she turned away, leaving me standing in silence, leaving me surrounded by the bodies left behind: Ilyan who bled as he looked into the nothing before him, Thom who stayed lifeless against the red-tinged asphalt, my mother, Ryland, Talon, Risha. They were all there, their blood seeping into the leather of the worn shoes Ilyan had made me so long ago, seeping through the tiny hold that had formed near the toe.

The scream lingered, moving through me as the bodies faded, shifting to rock and darkness as the sight became the cave that had haunted me for months. It was dark and damp with the deep crimson blood that flowed over the jagged rocks like a river. Ilyan’s body was spread-eagle over those same rocks, the river pouring from him, his eyes vacant, mouth agape.

The scream increased as the sound of Edmund’s laugh joined it in a reprehensible harmony. I listened to it, dread ripping through me as I tried to wake up, as I pled to wake up. I begged for the twisted sight to leave.

“Wake up!”

I wasn’t the only one.

With a jolt, I sat straight up in bed, my eyes wild as the sight faded to nothing. The tension and fear that ran through my body made it hard to see straight, let alone breathe at a normal rate.

Mi lasko?
His voice was as panicked as I was. I couldn’t blame him. I knew he felt my fear and had probably seen some of the sight.

As long as he didn’t see the last of it, however, we were good. I had kept him from that knowledge thus far, and I would do anything to keep it that way.

Are you all right?
he asked from the rooftop he stood on—the old, battered building he used as a lookout, miles away from where I lay, warm and supposedly safe in my bed.

“Ilyan,” I said it aloud between heaving gasps, my eyes flashing to his side of the bed, despite knowing he was not there. If he had been, he would have been holding me. He would have been singing to me.