Children of Fallen Gods (The War of Lost Hearts Book 2)

by Carissa Broadbent

  Was it Reshaye’s fear that flooded me, or my own?

  Irene leaned over me. Everything was so, so bright that she was backlit, flattened to silhouetted shadow.

  She was already reaching for my wrist by the time I saw the dagger in her hand.

  A dagger. A wrist. A room of white.

  Reshaye and I both realized at the same moment what she was planning to do. The threads of my thoughts lit up with panic, mine and Reshaye’s mingling.

  She was going to try to take Reshaye.

  Reshaye roared, and I felt it dig into my thoughts like claws. A flood of magic surged, but it had nowhere to go — it crashed and broke like a wave against stone, far from the surface.

  “Stop,” I choked out. “It will kill you!”

  Irene gave me an impassive glance. She slid the dagger over her palm. The crimson was searing.

  “Wouldn’t that be convenient?” she said. And then she opened the flesh of my palm, and pressed our hands together.

  The pain split me in two. I wasn’t sure if I was hearing my own scream or Reshaye’s, reverberating in my head, consuming all else. I could feel Irene’s magic trying to pry into mine, trying to reach into my head, tear away Reshaye. My magic and Reshaye’s surged towards her, trying to overtake her.

  But those Stratagrams — those Stratagrams choked me, like an iron collar.

  I saw a wall of black, and a reflection within it that I couldn’t make out. Something was reaching for me, reaching—

  Pain tore me apart. Irene was pushing further and further into my mind, tearing apart my thoughts in a vicious attempt to dig deeper, until she found Reshaye, until she could rip it away—

  It was killing me. This would kill me.

  I felt Irene’s magic — gods, what was this? This was no magic I had ever experienced before. My mind was a web, an intricate series of threads, and Irene’s magic shredded through it like talons to paper.

  It encroached on Reshaye. Wrapped around it as it screamed.

  Stop, Reshaye!

  Reshaye let out a ghastly shriek. Fragmented images careened through me.

  I saw a flash of golden hair. A room of white and white and white.

  I saw purple blood spilling over marble floors.

  I saw the ground opening, the skies on fire.

  And I felt terror. Reshaye’s terror, drowning me.

  Think, Tisaanah. Think. What do you do when you’re losing control?

  What did I do, when Reshaye took over at the Mikov estate?

  I let myself fall.

  Fall.

  Through the agony, I forced myself to calm, forced my mind to turn inward.

  I stopped fighting. I released my hold on Reshaye’s panic. And I fell.

  I stood in rolling plains. Rippling grasslands spread out around me, disappearing to the horizon on every side, their golden glow turned cold under the moonlight. I had been here before, the day I had lost control at the Mikov estate. I looked up — up, at what looked like a sky, except instead of stars above me I saw threads glowing in the darkness, my own mind and Reshaye and Irene’s all battling, slow motion, in streaks across the night.

  And…

  My brow furrowed.

  There was something else up there, too. Another glow, another soul, far more distant than Irene’s and Reshaye’s, but treading incandescent rivulets across the sky nevertheless. Like the claw marks of something trying to drag itself closer.

  If I reached for it, a shiver ran through me — a shiver of hatred, of despair, of grief. And… a strange familiarity…

  I started to push towards it, but then, something more important caught my attention. One more presence, here, drawing from this level of magic.

  I spun around and looked to the sky. A searing streak of violet light reached across it.

  I recognized that raw magic, that presence, immediately. I had seen it, too, the last time I had been down here.

  Max.

  Max was here.

  And I needed to break through Irene’s grip if I was to meet him.

  Suddenly invigorated, I drew back, until I could see all of the threads connecting us lit up like streaks of firefly light. Me, Reshaye, Max, all drawing from the same deep level of magic. And Irene’s, hacking through my mind until she reached it, too.

  I thought back to what Vardir had told us in Ilyzath. That this magic, deep magic, demanded life. Thrived on it. Consumed it.

  I didn’t just burn my own energy. I could take it from others. And while the Stratagram tattoos had cut off my connection to my own energy… Irene was now feeding me hers, whether she intended to or not.

  I grabbed onto Reshaye’s panicking presence, even as it fought me. Trust me! I hissed.

  I stopped retreating from Irene’s magic. Instead, I reached out for it — her mind. Her presence.

  Her life.

  We can use this, I told Reshaye. It understood a moment after I did. Help me.

  I tightened my grip around Irene’s magic. And then I Wielded it.

  My eyes snapped open. Magic burned inside of me, like I had swallowed smoldering coals. Irene sagged against the table, her hand still clasped around mine, face contorted in pain. I held her mind in my grip — even though those Stratagrams still choked me.

  Together, Reshaye and I pushed until we hit that cord around our throats, that sheet of glass that boiled our magic in my veins, refusing to allow it to reach the surface. The tattoos on my skin burned.

  But I had more power now, fueled by Irene’s magic.

  You can push through? I asked Reshaye.

  {Yes,} Reshaye answered. I felt something different in its words — a strange sort of humanity. {But the cost to you would be—}

  Do it, I commanded.

  I didn’t have time to think. Reshaye’s magic surged, burning and shattering.

  And the pain consumed everything. I didn’t realize I was screaming until my voice started to give out. With great effort, I turned my head, looking to my arms where they were strapped to the table. My own flesh rotted, tattoos withering into pools of blackened flesh.

  My vision was dimming, my consciousness threatening to fade.

  But just in time, Reshaye withered the final Stratagrams. With the sudden loss of resistance, power overwhelmed me. Irene’s scream drowned beneath the rush of blood in my ears.

  My bindings heated and crumbled away, and when I sat up and looked down, Irene’s hand was still clutched in mine, now nothing but soupy rotten flesh and stark white bone. When I released it, she slumped to the ground, decay still crawling over her skin.

  I tried to stand and immediately collapsed. The world was spinning, blurring.

  {You cannot stop, Tisaanah. You cannot stop now, or you will not get up again.}

  I’m not.

  I watched my hands against the stone. Blue flames unfurled around my fingers. When I called my magic to me, they brightened, the stone itself shivering beneath my touch. I could feel vibrations from the entire building, like the walls were whispering to me. Below, I felt fear. I felt awe. I felt the clash of steel against steel, and the rising heat of fire.

  And most of all, I felt another magic calling to mine — magic that belonged to a soul I knew better than any other.

  I staggered to my feet. The world shifted and tilted. I didn’t let myself waver as I threw open the door.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Max

  He’s going to kill her. She’s already dead.

  I seared those words into my mind. They made me quick. They made me focused. They made me fearless. They ensured that I didn’t hesitate when I landed outside the wards of the Capital and immediately opened my second eyelids, letting terrible magic tear through me. Letting myself become something that was no longer human.

  I had forgotten how good it felt, like a spark taking to kindling. One blink, and my body peeled into flame itself, no longer bound by the restrictions of physicality — a serpent of fire, moving through the air like a gust of wind.
>
  I came in through the back of the Palace. There were times in life for subtlety, but this was not one of them. The guards looked at me as if I were a demon. Many were so afraid of me that they staggered back and went for help. The ones that did try to fight fell quickly.

  It was easy, to push through them, barreling through the doors of the Palace. I roared down narrow hallways, filling them with flames.

  Where are you, Tisaanah? Where are you?

  She’s already dead, the prisoner’s voice echoed.

  No. She couldn’t be. I didn’t allow myself to entertain the possibility. Because if she was, I would… I would…

  I shut away the thought.

  The Palace was enormous, larger than most city blocks. Finding her in here would be nearly impossible if I had no idea where I needed to go. But I’d spent plenty of time attending to the cells here during the Ryvenai War. The ones on the third floor were often reserved for Wielders, since they were more heavily fortified and warded against magic.

  I didn’t like leaving something this important up to chance. But if I were Aviness, I would put Tisaanah in one of those cells.

  Which meant I needed to fight my way up to the third floor of the Palace, and halfway across its length.

  At first, I moved quickly. It was easy to push back shocked, terrified guards who had no idea what they were looking at.

  But by the time I made it to the second floor, Aviness’s soldiers were prepared for me. Our clashes were vicious and messy. Normally, I fought with deliberate precision. But here, in this unfamiliar body, with the world smearing around me and chaotic magic burning in me, I fought in deadly thrashes, relying not on grace but on sheer power. I didn’t have the precision I needed to pull off my usual, careful approach.

  This? This was bloody.

  Soon, the halls were filled with the scent of burning flesh. I had been struck multiple times, deep gouges running down my sides. To compensate, I fed more and more of my magic, flames burning brighter, hotter, less controlled.

  A numb buzz began to ache behind my eyes, a strange resistance building in my magic. I had never occupied this form for so long before. I didn’t know my limits, not yet.

  But limits, right now, were irrelevant. I had no time to waste. Tisaanah had no time to waste.

  I surged through another wave of soldiers. In the beginning, I had avoided dealing killing blows. But as my magic grew tired and my movements slower, the transitions between man and magic rougher, I no longer had such luxuries. I couldn’t control my own strengths. I left a trail of bodies in my wake. The kind of sight that I’d never wanted to see again.

  At the end of a particularly grisly fight, my muscles aching and magic roaring out of control, turned to see another soldier rushing towards me even as his companions ran. I braced myself for another fight, only for him to freeze.

  And then, he fell — his flesh dissolving into familiar decay. And behind him stood Tisaanah, clutching a sword.

  I let out a ragged breath. I let my second eyelids slide closed, throwing me back into a numb world that seemed so much duller and quieter than the one I’d occupied seconds ago. Tisaanah rushed forward and pulled me into a crushing embrace, one that I too willingly returned. It was only when I felt her body stiffen in my arms that I realized she was letting out a wordless gasp of pain.

  I pulled back, examining her.

  “We have to go—” she was already starting to say.

  Too late. I saw the bruises that covered the left side of her face, that circled her throat. And when my gaze fell to her arms — Ascended fucking above, her arms were— were—

  “Who did that?”

  Tisaanah shook her head “We don’t have time—"

  “I can make time to—"

  “I did it,” she said, hurriedly, looking over her shoulder. “Now let’s go.”

  “You?”

  But before the question left my lips, a deafening crash rang out.

  The floor shook beneath us. Tisaanah stumbled, clutching the doorframe, another hint that perhaps she was weaker than she wanted me to think.

  I spat a curse beneath my breath.

  “Wielders,” Tisaanah muttered. “I feel it.”

  “And Lightning Dust.” I’d know the sound of it anywhere. And a lot of it — even from in here, I could’ve sworn I could smell it, sweet and acrid at once.

  Shit. Shit.

  “They sent the army. I told them not to.”

  They would be wildly outnumbered. I had trained a damned good army, but it didn’t matter how good they were if they were facing three-to-one numbers.

  “We need to see,” Tisaanah said, and started to move away towards the window, but I caught her shoulder.

  “This way. There’s a balcony that overlooks the west.”

  We rushed down the hall. I could hear shouts, footsteps, and steel, both inside of the castle and outside. We reached a glass door, which I threw open to blinding sunshine and the nauseating scent of Lightning Dust.

  The scene was ripped from my worst nightmares.

  Zeryth’s army — my army — had used Stratagrams to land directly from the west, just beyond the edges of the wards that surrounded the Palace grounds. And though it looked like they had gained some ground simply due to the element of surprise, Aviness’s forces and those of his allies were all concentrated around the Palace, ready to leap to defense as soon as they were needed.

  Below us was a sea of people, tangled in a chaotic, violent morass. Zeryth’s forces were pushing forward, and from up here I could see all their different magics sparking and mingling like different pieces of a patchwork quilt.

  Aviness’s forces were returning the offense with equal strength, raining down upon their invaders with steel and arrows and their own magics. I looked over my shoulder, and I could see more riders rushing down from the military base not far from the Palace.

  Tisaanah breathed a Thereni curse.

  This was everything I had worked so hard to avoid. A brutal, messy, bloody battle.

  “They can’t win,” I muttered. “Not like this. Not that outnumbered.”

  A pit was growing in my stomach — a certainty that I was not ready to face.

  Tisaanah’s eyes flicked to me, and in them, I saw the same certainty reflected back at me.

  She didn’t have to say anything. We wouldn’t let it happen. Couldn’t let it happen. I had trained these people. They were under my care. And I wouldn’t, couldn’t, stand by and watch them get slaughtered.

  Nura had known that, and that was exactly why she had sent them.

  “We can help,” Tisaanah murmured.

  I glanced her up and down. I could barely pull my eyes away from the horrific wounds on her arms. “You aren’t in any condition to do this.”

  The corner of Tisaanah’s mouth twitched. “I can do it if you can do it.”

  And then her hand slid into mine. “You did not let me fight my war alone,” she said. “And I won’t let you fight yours alone, either.”

  Of their own accord, my fingers tightened around her hand. It felt small and delicate and so very human.

  I relished that, for a moment. The way our skin felt pressed together. Ordinary. After this, I would not be ordinary again.

  Tisaanah and I would do what she had mastered. We would craft a performance, rooted in truth. We would show the world what we were capable of.

  I would show all of them, for the first time, exactly what I was.

  And then we would fight, and we would win.

  I closed my eyes.

  “Are you ready?” Tisaanah said, and I almost laughed, because no, of course I wasn’t.

  But out loud I said, “Yes,” because I had to be.

  I opened my eyes. And then my second eyelids.

  And the world went up in flames.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Aefe

  When I opened my eyes, we were already miles away from Yithara. I had been unconscious for nearly two days, Caduan told me
, a poorly hidden note of concern in his voice. My wound still was in awful pain, but it had been dressed and treated both magically and medically. Maybe under other circumstances, it would have been a slightly poetic sight. I could see evidence of Sidnee and Wyshraj and Stoneheld magics all mixed together in the treatment.

  But instead, all I could think about was the slaughter that we had left behind in Yithara. When Siobhan had told me that the city had been lost, I staggered to my feet even as they tried to push me back.

  “We have to go back there,” I had demanded. “We cannot leave them all to die.”

  I had whirled to Caduan — surely, he would agree with me. And then to Ishqa — the noble warrior, who doubtless would never leave a city full of civilians to their deaths.

  But everyone just looked back at me with grim, pale stares.

  It turned out that they had gone back. Ishqa and Ashraia had flown far above the battle, watching. By the time they returned, it wasn’t so much a battle anymore as it was a cleanup. There was no one left to fight. We had taken most of the survivors with us, and the humans were left to sort through their own wreckage. They had already destroyed the city, and to hear Ishqa and Ashraia tell it, they simply turned their destruction on the city itself when nobody was left — tearing down remaining buildings, ripping trees out at the roots, turning over the earth.

  All of it was horrifying. But this — this made me so angry I could barely breathe.

  It wasn’t enough for the humans to slaughter entire cities or Houses. They had to destroy them, too. Rip away the most important thing, the stories all of those dead Fey left behind. Consume and burn until nothing was left of Yithara but a decimated scar in the earth.

  “Why?” I had ground out, through clenched teeth. “What reason do they have to do this?”