Ignitus was dead. And though the hope she had felt at his alliance had flickered, a new hope flared strong again, driven by Brand’s support. By Tor and Taro and Spark and how they would convince the other gods of what Ignitus could not: that Anathrasa was back and out for revenge.
Ash should have been terrified. And she was; she was exhausted and sore and still harrowingly empty from her lack of igneia. But there were no secrets in her world anymore. No hiding thoughts of revolution from her murderous god. Her goal was laid out for all to see, her dreams unmasked and raw.
That realization felt like it honored Char more than Ignitus’s death had. Freedom over vengeance.
Ash began to recognize the area Taro and Spark led them through. The grand arena was on the left; Market Square to the right. And ahead was the temple, its high columns and wide marble floor showing worshippers within, like normal. News hadn’t reached them yet.
Ash tripped along, willing her body to keep moving. Taro took the stairs two at a time, cutting across the temple floor, her face set with determination. The fastest way to the docks was down the road ahead.
Madoc tightened his hold on Ash, and when she looked at him, her heart quaked. He was barely holding himself together, his brow furrowed in intense pain, his eyes lifted to the temple’s roof.
He looked like he was saying goodbye to it.
“Madoc!” A voice broke Ash’s concentration. Again it cried his name, frantic, “Madoc!”
He went rigid. Recognition struck him, and his lips parted in an exhale of disbelief. “Ilena!”
Twenty-Five
Madoc
THE WORLD FLASHED by in fractured moments. The soot on Ash’s skin. The slick blood on her hand as it slid beneath his arm. Slices of roaring sound and intolerable brightness that gave way to black.
He blinked, and Ilena was there.
“Look at me,” she said sharply. He was leaning against a wall. A man stood behind her—Tyber? Were they in the temple sanctuary? He didn’t remember coming here. “What’s wrong with him?” she snapped.
“Too much energeia,” Ash told her. “It’s a longer story than we have time for.”
Ash was there. He clung to her voice as a thousand needles drove through his brain, and the darkness loomed again.
“I’ll get water,” Tyber said, and was gone.
Ilena cupped his cheek. “Madoc.”
His name on her lips nearly broke him.
“I’m sorry about Cassia.” His words were a strained whisper overthe roaring in his ears. He needed to get it out before it was too late. “I’m sorry I didn’t get her in time.”
He siphoned in a quick breath of pain.
Anathrasa had known he was capable of taking a god’s power, just as she’d known it would kill him to do so.
He didn’t want Ilena to see him die, not after Cassia.
Ilena’s hands were on his face, her tear-filled eyes in front of his. She’d been crying. He hated it when she cried.
“I don’t want to hear you say that again, understand?” Her voice broke. “I’m the one who’s sorry. I never should have said those things. I didn’t mean them. She was your sister, and none of this is your fault.”
His throat twisted into knots.
“Petros is dead,” he told her. “Geoxus and Ignitus—they’re all dead. But Seneca—she’s not who you think. She’s dangerous.”
Ilena huffed in surprise, then muttered a curse. Her gaze lifted as a burst of shouts echoed outside the sanctuary walls.
“We have to go” came a deep voice from behind him. Was that Tor?
“Come with us,” Ash said to Ilena.
