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January 31 - February 21, 2024
Mere feet away, the world began to cave in, sucking itself inward, obliterating everything— Bryce willed it, and the Horn obeyed. A portal opened—right in front of the core and the dark dot that was emerging from it, vacuuming in all life.
Bryce widened her portal enough that it sucked in the Asteri, their screams vanishing as they went.
a black, airless place, dotted with small, distant stars. A heartbeat, and then she was yanked in, too. Straight to deep space.
The Asteri’s crystal palace was collapsing.
Rigelus had a one-way ticket for that black hole—she’d make sure of it. Even if she went with him.
You will drift, and she will still wind up with Rigelus in the Void, and you will follow her in, helpless, a few minutes later.”
His wings might not work in space, but the propulsion from the suit’s weapons would. Hunt didn’t hesitate. He climbed in,
Hunt did the only thing he could think to do. He slid the Mask onto his face. To escape death, he’d don its trappings. The Umbra Mortis in truth.
The Fallen’s cause, ended at last with this final blow.
And Hunt knew it was Shahar, it was every one of the Fallen, it was all who’d stood against the Asteri, who guided that missile for a direct hit into Rigelus’s face.
The metal hands of the suit wrapped around her waist just as time resumed. He deployed the remaining small artillery and blasted toward home. Toward the portal, now beginning to slide shut.
A glowing, black figure filled it. Then another. Aidas and Apollion.
It was love that was holding the portal open. That held it open until the very end, until Hunt and Bryce were through, crashing into the dirt of Midgard,
The Asteri were gone.
And he finally let the Mask say the word he’d been ignoring since he’d grabbed her in the depths of space. Dead
Hunt blasted his lightning into her chest again. Bryce arced off the ground, but her heart didn’t start beating.
it did not respond. Like one final fuck you, the Mask tumbled off his face. As if her Made essence had faded from him with her death.
It had worked before. That day of the demon attack in the spring—he’d brought her back to life. But her heart did not answer this time.
The boys had been the ones who’d convinced him to come back—had refused to go another step until they helped in some way.
“You cursed me to immortality. Now I’m making it a gift: the gift of a Vanir’s long life. I give it freely to Bryce Quinlan, if she wants it.”
“That Archesian amulet isn’t merely for protection against my books or against demons. It’s a link to Midgard itself.”
“The amulets first belonged to the librarian-priestesses of Parthos. Each was imbued with Midgard’s innate magic—the very oldest. The sort every world has, for those who know where to look.”
“As thanks for what you did for Midgard … we are being allowed this trade, as it were.”
“The Parthos books are yours now. Protect them, cherish them. Share them with the world.”
“You went into that portal today knowing you wouldn’t walk away, either. I can offer now what I couldn’t then, all those years ago. My family and friends are long gone, but I know they’d want to offer this to you, too. As our own thanks for freeing our world.”
“We’ll dismantle the Archangels and their schools and the hierarchies, and it’ll take years, but in the meantime, we’ll need a leader. Someone to guide us, rally us. Give us courage to turn from the old ways and toward something new. Something fair.” He folded his wings. “That should be you.”
“The angels already have a leader to steer them through this, Isaiah.”
“You.” “Me?” Isaiah said,
“Lead the angels, Isaiah. I’m here if you need me.”
Whether they wanted to restore the firstlight power system or try to find an alternate method. Whether they’d require people to hand over their power, or perhaps tax the uber-powerful. Require Archangels, who had power in spades, to donate some of their power to the grid. The powerful, serving the weak.
Bryce chuckled and drew the Starsword. Again, Cassian tensed, but Bryce just offered the blade to Nesta.
“You said you had an eight-pointed star tattooed on you,” Bryce explained. “And you found the chamber with the eight-pointed star in the Prison, too.”
“So I want you to take the Starsword.” Bryce held the blade between them. “Gwydion—whatever you call it here. The age of the Starborn is over on Midgard. It ends with me.”
“I think that eight-pointed star was tattooed on you for a reason. Take that sword and go figure out why.”
Her boys had a beautiful family, and perhaps, if everyone was all right with it, it was one she could find a place in. Find joy in.
Her sons were alive, and free, and in her life again, and it was more than she’d ever hoped for.
Tharion Ketos stood on the outskirts of the Meat Market, looking for his wife.
“This is my first and only decree as the Fae Queen of Valbara and Avallen: the royal houses are ended.”
I am not abdicating either throne. I am no longer queen, but with this document, no one shall ever wear the crown again. The Fae monarchy is abolished. Forever.”
“I am donating all the Autumn King’s residences in this city,” Bryce said, gesturing to the elegant space around them, “to house those displaced by the attack on Asphodel Meadows. This villa in particular will be used to house children orphaned by the massacre.”
“As for the royal properties elsewhere—in Valbara and on Avallen—they will be sold to anyone who can stomach their tacky-ass decor, and the profits will go toward rebuilding Asphodel Meadows.”
we will build a government built on equality and fairness.
it’s going to take a lot more than one meeting with a bunch of world leaders to sort out an entirely new system of government. Or dismantle slavery.”
Perry laughed, and … okay, maybe Ithan liked the sound.
“I’m expecting a report tonight regarding the status of the firstlight power grid and how we might stop it from failing.
the other Archangels are going to start jockeying for power. If we don’t want to fall back into the old ways, we need a solid plan.”
No more splintered Aux, divided among Houses and species. They’d lead by example. Starting today.
if she can find a way to stabilize the antidote, we could have it rolling out to everyone by the Spring Equinox.
we’re going to establish a Fae democracy. A senate, and all that crap. So the Fae can go complain to them about their problems.
“Baxian,” Bryce said, heart thundering. “What is it?” “Flying horses. Horses with wings
