—Journal of Audric Courverie, king of Celdaria, dated April 30, Year 1000 of the Second Age

Inside the castle, all was still. Soldiers and servants lay strewn across the floor of the entrance hall, stiff where they had fallen, their faces drained of color and their mouths frozen in screams.

Audric moved past them in silence, trying not to think of where his mother might be. When he had left her, she had been overseeing the citywide evacuation, ushering people south through the once-secret mountain tunnels.

But that was hours ago. Any one of the bodies lying dead at their feet could have been hers. Or perhaps she was somewhere in the city, her unseeing eyes turned up to the stars.

Audric did not look at any human shape he passed, too frightened of seeing an auburn fall of hair.

“What is this?” Kamayin whispered. She stood near one of the hall’s stone pillars. Rivulets of gold spilled down it, pulsing with light. They were everywhere, in the walls and across the ceiling. Floating down the stairs from the second-floor mezzanine, they drifted like delicate branches suspended in water.

Kamayin, eyes wide, reached for the nearest one. Her castings sparked brighter as she approached it.

Miren hurried over, caught her wrist. “It’s Rielle. She’s doing this. Don’t touch it, not any of them.”

She looked back over her shoulder, and Audric saw on her face the same longing he felt. His power ached inside him—he could scarcely breathe around it—and Illumenor hummed in his hand, as if it truly belonged not to him but to the light streaming golden through the palace.

Audric.

He did not answer Rielle’s voice and said nothing to the others. He stepped carefully up the grand staircase, avoiding the slender lines of gold that shifted and hissed, blind snakes seeking heat. Sloane followed behind him, then Kamayin, Miren, Evyline, Fara, Maylis. Seven frightened shadows creeping slowly through a castle seething with light.

As they ascended, the drifting veins of light grew brighter. Audric’s heart pounded; the fear was thick inside him. Every step forward sent doubt plummeting through his body.

What would they find at the top? In his mind’s eye, he saw Rielle as she had been on their wedding night. Before the vision from Corien, before that awful scene in the gardens. She had been radiant in his arms as they spun across the dance floor, her gown a glittering cloud and her happiness as unfettered as he’d ever seen it.

He held that image in his mind as he stood before a set of stained glass doors on the fourth floor of the west wing. Set in the doors shone twin suns in amber and orange glass, crafted in honor of Saint Katell, each rising over a field of green. Framing the doors was a sea of golden veins pushing their way inside. The air vibrated in Audric’s ears and in his teeth, a lightning-charged heartbeat. Beyond the doors was a sweeping terrace that spanned the width of the castle’s fourth floor. It had been a favorite place of his father’s for private gatherings.

Audric paused, hand hovering over the latch. He didn’t look back at his friends, but he felt them nearby, their castings snapping with eager power, their swords at the ready.

He drew a breath and opened the doors.

A blast of heat greeted him, hotter than any he’d felt since childhood, when he had forged Illumenor. He pushed through the scorching air, walked out onto the terrace. Tears filled his eyes. Light was everywhere, the heat of it unbearable. He heard Sloane curse behind him and Kamayin’s sharp gasp.

Tangles of light streaked across the terrace and spilled over the railing like waterfalls. And at the far side, looking out over the city toward the battlefield, was a luminous figure. Dark hair threaded with gold, crimson gown edged with cords of light. She faced away from them. Her hands clutched the railing, and from her fingers stretched the wings he had seen from the battlefield. They filled the night sky, too tall and close to see in full.

Beside her stood a man in a long black coat and cloak, a secret smile on his pale face.

Anger exploded inside Audric, anger as he had never felt before. It burned his fingers; it boiled in his chest like oil popping over a flame.

Corien’s smile widened.

“She told me not to kill you,” he said. “I could have, easily. All those heroics, that impressive sword work, the shouting and the chanting. Inspiring, truly. But she wanted you to see her. She wanted to look upon you one last time.”

Then Corien stepped aside, bowing graciously, and Audric watched, holding his breath, as Rielle turned to face them.

The moment he saw her eyes, his heart sank.

Her eyes blazed gold. The power she emitted, hot as waves of fire, lifted her hair from her shoulders in dark coils, and the hem of her red gown floated at her ankles. His gaze dropped to her belly, round with their child, and once again, he thought of their daughter. Two queens will rise. A princess of peace. Dark-eyed, maybe, like him, but with Rielle’s sharp tongue and coy mouth.

He found Rielle’s eyes once more. Her beauty was shocking, and he had never been more afraid, not of her, but for her. The shadows drawn sharp across her face, the new hollows in her cheeks, the lines around her mouth—what had carved them there? Grief or pain? Her skin rippled, gold waves surging beneath it. It would not have surprised him to see her flesh peel away, revealing whatever great and terrible power lay beneath it. Another undulation of gold, the shift of waves caught in a storm, and every muscle in her face tightened. She swayed a little, reached back to brace herself against the railing.

“Rielle, what’s happened?” Audric whispered. He took a step toward her.

The light snaking across the terrace lashed at his ankles. He dodged it, as did Miren and Sloane just behind him, but Fara and Maylis were not fast enough. The light snatched their legs, then flung them over the railing into the night. They did not even have time to scream.

Kamayin cried out in horror. Evyline howled Rielle’s name.

Rielle blinked. At her sides, her hands twitched, and when she spoke, her voice multiplied, as if every river of light hugging the castle were replicating her words.

“What’s happened,” she said, each syllable slightly slurred, “is that I escaped you. I became what you would never allow me to become.”

“And what is that?” He dared to take another step toward her. “Tell me what you’ve seen. What has the empirium shown you?”

She tilted her head, watching him. Her eyes flashed. “Everything.”

“Can you be more specific? Everything is quite a lot to imagine.”

A sneer. “For you.”

He continued approaching her, waved the others back.

“Tell him,” Corien suggested, leaning carelessly against the railing a few paces from where Rielle stood. “I’d like to watch his mind try and fail to comprehend it.”