“Oh, Rora.” Emerin throws her arms back around me. “I am going to miss you so much.”
I pull her close again, clinging to her, wishing I could freeze time and keep her here with me. But I must let her go. Tahira and Asha need her more than I do.
Jasce steps forward and addresses Emerin. “Thank you for coming to heal Annora. I know it was not easy for you to leave your home.”
Emerin takes a slow, steadying breath as she moves away from me. “I’m glad I could help.”
“Arian will escort you home swiftly and safely,” Jasce says.
Light footsteps echo against the marble as Arian steps nearer to where we stand and nods, her eyes alight with determination.
I slide closer to Jasce, needing his strength right now. He reaches out, taking my hand, and I squeeze my fingers around his. If only they could take away this pain, this sadness.
It takes everything in me to not grab Emerin and keep her here with me. Instead, I stand next to Jasce as Arian lifts her hands, and silver flames appear. Her eyes glint in the torchlight as she summons a portal, the vortex swirling and dancing in front of us.
Emerin turns to me, her eyes speaking volumes—telling me how much she loves me and will miss me.
I love you too.
With a resolute nod, she squares her shoulders, then steps through the portal. The air ripples and shimmers as Arian follows her. As they disappear, the portal shrinks, collapsing in on itself until it closes completely, leaving no trace of its existence.
Jasce squeezes my fingers. “Emerin will be safe.”
His touch grounds me, reminds me that while part of my heart just stepped through that portal, another piece remains here with him.
ChapterFifty
ANNORA
Since Emerin is goneand Jasce is in the War Room, I settle in the Grand Library with the book Aleksander gave me. As I thumb through the pages, I try to not think about Emerin and how much I already miss her.
Each page reveals intricate sketches and cryptic notes about crimson magic. I pause when my gaze lands on a sketch of a Phoenix. The artist captured every feather with painstaking detail.
The image pulses, as if the heart of the bird beats within the parchment. Instinctively, I brush my fingers against the sketch. The lines thrum beneath my fingertips. I wrinkle my brow, lift my hand, then touch the Phoenix again. It flutters, as if alive.
“Impossible,” I whisper as a chill races down my spine.
Suddenly, the room dims, as if all the light has been snuffed out by an invisible hand. Time stretches, fading in and out like a candle struggling to stay lit. I blink rapidly, trying to cling to consciousness, but the room keeps wavering, slipping in and out of focus.
The walls ripple and drop away, as if they were merely an illusion all along. Beneath my feet, the stone floor groans open. I gasp and try to fight against the irresistible force pulling me into the void.
A jagged cliff rears up, catching me. I stagger back, losing my footing on the uneven ground. My shoulder slams painfully into a large boulder jutting out from the cliff. I throw my arms around it, clinging to the rough stone with all my strength.
Terrified screams pierce the smoky air. I blink, trying to clear my watering eyes as acrid smoke fills my lungs with each panicked breath. Coughing and gasping, I inch along the cliff face, fingers scraping raw against the stone until I reach the jagged edge. I peer over cautiously through the swirling haze, struggling to see what fresh horror awaits.
A battle rages in the valley below, where crimson flames devour everything, leaving nothing but ash and embers.
I open my mouth to scream, but only silence escapes my lips.
Through the smoke, two historic figures emerge to meet in the center of the battlefield. One is Tarrik, from House of Silver, the chieftain of the Hematites. The other is the insurgent from House of Crimson, who led this savage attack.
The chieftain extends his hand in a gesture of parley and peace. The insurgent summons up flames, then releases them in a torrent that engulfs the chieftain.
Horror impales me as I gasp and bring a hand to my mouth. Grandfather’s version of this fateful day floods through my mind. How he said our house had once ruled these lands until the crimson betrayal stole it away.
Above the carnage, the Phoenix lets out a mournful cry, its wings quivering as its flames dim and gutter.
Sadness blinds me as I turn away, not able to look any longer. Not able to face so much suffering.
