Let The Wind Rise (Sky Fall, #3) (36 page)

“So . . . you want me to focus the need without trying to keep you alive?”

“Well, feel free to make it clear that’s not our
first
choice, but . . . yeah.”

I try to tell myself it’s not as devastating as it feels. After all, if we don’t come up with a plan, we’re both dead anyway.

But all I can think about is my promise to Audra that I
would
come home to her.

I can still feel the pull of our bond—even through all this chaos.

She’s drawing me toward her.

How can I abandon her?

“A new command is starting to form,” Solana whispers, which does
not
feel like good news. “I think . . . if you can fly us close enough to Raiden, I might know what I’m supposed to do to take him out. But I’m not feeling a way to avoid the backlash.”

“So basically, you know how to kill him—but it’ll kill us, too?”

“I think so . . . it’s hard to tell. I never know exactly how it’s going to work until I try it.”

I take another ten seconds to admit we’re officially out of options, and a few more after that to let go of a couple of tears.

“We don’t have to do it, Vane. If we keep fighting, we might find another way. I’ll try again, telling the need to keep you safe.”

I have to laugh at that, though it’s not funny at all. “That’s ridiculous. Why is it okay for you to die, and not me?”

“Because I’m using Raiden’s tainted power, and you’re using the language of peace.” The thickness in her voice tells me she’s crying too.

“Neither of us deserves this, Solana. Just like our families didn’t deserve what happened to them. It’s like Aston said. War is about hard choices. This is ours. If you don’t want to do it, teach me the command.”

“But what about Audra?”

I choke back a new wave of tears—and resist the urge to shout at the sky:
THIS ISN’T FAIR—YOU OWE ME!

It’s
not
fair—but it doesn’t matter. All that really matters is one thing.

Please let Audra be okay,
I beg the wind.
Let her survive whatever she’s facing. And don’t let losing me make her unhappy. I mean, she can cry a
few
tears—but then I want her to move on. She’s grieved enough in her life. Please let her get over me.

I’m so focused on my plea that I don’t notice that we’re circling lower, like my Westerlies have gotten behind this brutal suicide mission.

At least the storms have calmed, and the last of the zapnadoes have unraveled.

“Are you ready for this?” Solana whispers, clutching a new wind boomerang thing.

“Let’s just get it over with quick this time,” I whisper. “As soon as the need tells you what to do—do it, okay?”

She reaches for my hand, and I squeeze hers back, glad I get to face this with a friend.

“Here goes nothing,” I tell her, ordering the winds to set us down in front of Raiden.

He chose his spot well—a ridge so narrow we can only keep a couple of feet between him and us. A guarantee that we’ll be within range of his backlash.

“So this is how it ends,” Raiden says. “The last stand of the last Westerly. Any final words?”

I’m about to tell him no when I notice my winds have added a new lyric.

They’re still singing about a shield being more dangerous than a sword, but there’s a new line that comes right before it.

Trust your enemy.

“You have two choices,” Raiden tells us. “Teach me a word of Westerly and I’ll kill you both quickly. Refuse, and you’ll get to watch your little friend experience a multitude of indescribable agonies.”

He grabs Solana by her hair, wrenching her neck as he drags her closer.

Trust your enemy,
my Westerlies sing.
Trust your enemy. Trust your enemy.

TRUST YOUR ENEMY.

“You want to know a word of Westerly?” I ask Raiden, hoping I’m guessing the wind’s meaning. “Fine. I’ll teach you a word. Just don’t hurt her.”

Solana’s eyes get almost as huge as Raiden’s.

“Just like that?” he asks. “After all of this”—he sweeps his arms toward the battle-scarred field—“you’re ready to betray your heritage before I place a single blow?”

“I saw what you did to Gus,” I mumble. “Solana doesn’t deserve that.”

Maybe I’m a better actor than I think. Or maybe Raiden’s just power hungry and doesn’t stop to ask the questions he should probably ask.

He doesn’t even argue when I demand he let Solana go. He releases his hold, and I pull her close enough to whisper, “Watch for my signal.”

“I’ll teach you their strongest command,” I tell him. “The one that’s saved me the most. If that doesn’t trigger your breakthrough, nothing will.”

Raiden’s in full power-junkie mode, his mouth practically salivating as I ask the Westerlies to whisk around him.

A shield is more dangerous than a sword.

“I’m going to teach you how to form a shield,” I say. “It only takes one word.”

Solana and I share a look, and I hope she’s ready, because she’s going to have to time it perfectly.

“Listen to the way I say it first,” I say, glad my instincts aren’t making me hurl yet. They’ve done that every other time I’ve tried to teach anyone, so this really must be what the winds want.

I whisper the word, highlighting each of the sighing, swishy sounds.

“Repeat it one more time,” Raiden tells me.

I notice Solana tightening her grip on her boomerang, and nod.

This is it.

Please let this be the end of him.

“Ready to try it?” I ask.

Raiden’s too focused on the pronunciation to notice Solana whispering her own command and turning her boomerang from yellow to red.

He nails each syllable of the Westerly command perfectly, and right as the final sound rolls off his tongue, Solana flings the weapon, nailing him dead in the chest.

We both drop to the ground as the force of the backlash ricochets, and I suck in a breath, wishing my last taste of air wasn’t so dusty.

I will always love you, Audra.

I repeat the words, hoping they brand themselves to my echo.

Let her find it. Let her know how sorry I am to leave her alone.

But as the explosion rings in my ears, I don’t feel any pain. And after another second I have to brave a look.

I don’t know how to describe the sound I make—it’s a mix of a thousand different emotions.

Solana makes a similar noise as she sits up beside me.

In the split second after her boomerang passed through Raiden’s backlash, the Westerly shield draped around his body, sealing in the explosion and leaving him to bear the full force of the blow—which triggers the backlash again. And again. And again.

Justice,
the Westerlies tell me, the word easing my nausea at the gore.

Raiden’s the one who sealed his doom, forcing himself to face the pain of his own evil power.

It’s a slow death.

A painful one.

And then, he’s gone.

I leave him in his shell a few minutes longer, just to be certain the explosions are over.

And when I finally release the Westerly shield, his body crumbles to dust.

Rejected by the sky. Left to rot on the earth.

I
t’s done.

I can feel it in the air.

A newfound peace I don’t know how to describe.

The winds aren’t calm—but I’ve never felt such joyous ease.

The air feels lighter, softer. Like Raiden’s existence had been a physical burden, dragging down the sky and burying it in gloom.

And Vane . . .

Our bond feels stronger than ever. Almost electric with the rush of his urgent journey.

He’s coming home.

He’s safe.

And he’s mine.

The Gales are frenzied with preparations—already a unanimous vote has passed, approving Vane’s plan for a ruling power of four.

Coronations and celebrations are being planned, even as the surviving guardians head to Brezengarde to wipe out any remaining Stormers.

There are stories that need to be told, life-changing decisions that must be made.

But I’ve asked them all to wait.

I want one day.

One
day with Vane, when we’re not Easterlies or Westerlies or guardians or groundlings or kings and queens.

One day when I can give him a small sliver of the normal I know he craves.

His parents returned not long ago, thanks to a lucky fluke of timing. I’d been resting in his room when I was woken by the twittering sound of his phone ringing. It took me several tries to figure out how to answer—and I’m sure the conversation on my end was lacking—but I managed to convince them it was safe to come home.

They rushed here straightaway.

I’d expected our reunion to feel stilted.

Complicated.

Two worlds struggling to find a common place.

I’d had speeches prepared—most of them apologies.

But they weren’t needed.

The second they walked through the door, they wrapped me in their arms and thanked me. There were questions of course. But mostly laughter and tears.

They keep telling me I’m part of the family—which I guess I am.

Sort of.

Bonding is a complicated thing.

There’s still one more step to seal our commitment—but we’ll get to that when we’re ready.

In the meantime his mom flutters around me, trying to stay busy.

They’d stocked up on bandages and other supplies preparing for this moment, and she insists on helping me dress my wounds.

I can see the fury in her eyes when she finds the marks Raiden left. And she cries all over again when I tell her about Gus.

“Vane should be fine,” I add, because I know she must be worrying. “When I left him, he only had minor injuries. And if he’d suffered anything more serious, I think I’d be able to tell.”

Still, I know she’ll feel better when she can see him herself.

As will I.

Soon.

I can feel he’s closer, but still not quite close enough.

I ask if I can borrow one of Vane’s shirts, since my other clothes were ruined, and his mom blushes and tells me she bought me a dress.

“I don’t know if this is a weird gift—and it’s not as fancy as the other one I saw you wearing—but as soon as I saw it, I thought of you.”

The pale blue fabric is the softest, smoothest thing I’ve ever felt. And it’s printed with tiny soaring birds.

“It’s perfect.”

She leaves me to change, and I stare at myself for far longer than I probably should, trying to recognize the girl staring back at me.

She carries more scars than my other self.

And yet, she carries fewer shadows.

She looks . . . happy.

His mother’s eyes get misty when I emerge from the bathroom, and even his father looks moved.

“You’re welcome to wait for him in his room,” he tells me, earning himself an elbow from Vane’s mother and starting a hushed debate about sleeping arrangements.

Yet another complicated thing we’ll have to figure out.

But right now, I have other plans.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could do me one more favor,” I tell his mom.

Of course she immediately agrees.

She smiles even wider when I tell her what I’m thinking.

“Leave it to me.”

T
he sun is just starting to rise as I crest the San Gorgonio Mountains and fly the familiar path through the pass.

The windmills of the wind farm spin slow and steady, their signal lights winking at me as I follow the line of the freeway into my valley.

I’d been dreading seeing all the damage again, but honestly?

Things don’t look nearly as bad as I remember. Either the cleanup crews have been busy, or I’ve seen too much other destruction.

I hope it’s the first option.

It took me longer to get home than I planned, but I had to make sure Solana had somewhere to go. I’d offered to let her stay with me, but she chose to go back to Aston’s cave. She wanted to be around someone else who understood the power of pain. I’m hoping that doesn’t mean the battle took a big toll.

Her eyes weren’t glinting with any sort of craving, but I’m not sure if that’s because we’re both too exhausted.

Coming home felt like the longest journey
ever.

We could’ve blasted here with pipelines—trusted our lives to the wind one final time. But we both chose the safe path, to fly and clear our heads.

I’m doing okay with all the violence.

Definitely no remorse over killing Raiden.

It’s just a lot to process.

We kinda changed our entire world—in a good way, of course.

But still.

Change
.

And responsibility.

And all kinds of other things I’m so not ready for.

All I really want to do is collapse on the couch and binge watch TV—unless Audra’s around, then . . .
all the making out!

The thought gives me a final burst of energy, and within minutes I’m back at my parents’ house.

I didn’t expect them to be home yet, but there’s their car, parked in the driveway. I’m equal parts excited and exhausted.

I’m wondering if it’d make me a jerk if I snuck in through my bedroom window and did the whole big dramatic reunion thing once I’d gotten a little sleep.

But then I think about everything I’ve put them through these last few weeks—all the times I made them run for cover, and the mysterious injuries I showed up with, not to mention the whole
Guess what? You’re son isn’t human!
weirdness.

They deserve to know I’m okay.

My parents seem strangely unsurprised when I walk through the door—though of course there’s still plenty of hugging and crying. They ask questions I don’t know how to answer yet. So I tell them the only thing that really matters.

“It’s over.”

They hug me a whole lot tighter and promise they’re here for whatever I need.

“So wait—how did you guys know to come back?” I ask.

My mom smiles. “Audra answered your phone.”