House of Flame and Shadow (Crescent City, #3)

by Sarah J. Maas

“Tell Bryce,” Connor said, eyes shining as he stepped toward the glowing Gate, a wall of light now shimmering in the empty arch, “to make the shot count.”

“Put it in the bullet,” Jesiba ordered Ithan, who unscrewed its cap and gingerly approached the seed. All the souls of the people here … the dreams of the dead, their love for the living … Ithan gently slid the bullet around the seed of light and replaced the cap. He lifted the bullet between his thumb and forefinger, its point digging into his skin. As the light floated up through the bullet, Memento Mori was briefly illuminated, letter by letter.

“Get your ass to Pangera, Prime. And get that bullet to Bryce Quinlan.”

“You take one more step toward my friend,” said a familiar female voice, “and you die.”

Tharion’s knees wobbled as he glanced over a shoulder—and found Hypaxia Enador striding in from the quay, Ithan Holstrom bristling with menace at her side.

“You touch him, or his friend, and you bring down the wrath of Flame and Shadow upon you.”

“And the wrath of all Valbaran Wolves.”

“All Hel is going to break loose pretty damn soon.”

She had a handgun on the other, only one clip for a reload.

aND THE ONE FROM ITHAN WHEN HE GETS THERE. The Pack of Devils

“I remember,” Bryce said quietly—just to him, even with the others listening. “Every movement of Micah’s sword when he cut off your wings. How there was nothing we could do to stop him—stop them. I remember how they sold you back to Sandriel, and that time, too, there was nothing we could do to stop them. I remember every fucking moment of it, Hunt.” Her eyes glimmered with pure rage and focus. “But today we finally fucking stop them.”

“I promised myself that day Micah cut off your wings,” Bryce said, still just for him, “that they’d pay for it. For what they’ve done.”

She looked back at all of them. Her eyes met Hunt’s. And Bryce said before she stepped into the light, “Through love, all is possible.”

“Good luck,” Ruhn said to his sister, perhaps for the last time. But Bryce smiled gently, softly, and though she had been all fierce determination in the van a few minutes ago, it was love in her face now as she said to him, “You brought so much joy into my life, too, Ruhn.” He remembered, then, saying those words to her before she’d vanished through the Gate. You brought so much joy into my life, Bryce. It felt like a lifetime ago.

STOPPPPPPP

“If I don’t get the chance to tell you later … I love you.”

He gazed at the towering wall of the Fallen’s wings behind the seven crystal thrones.

And there, at its center, pinned like a new trophy, was his Umbra Mortis helmet and suit.

He’d wear that suit and helmet one more time. It wouldn’t be the Umbra Mortis wearing that suit, but Hunt. Her Hunt.

And together they would end this.

The star inside her flared brightly, as if to say, Hello, old friend. Yes, the ancient magic knew the Mask. It understood its deepest secrets.

She’d been right: They had never been given Sailings. It had been the final insult to the dead warriors, the shame of being denied a blessed afterlife. It would prove to be the Asteri’s downfall. These souls, left to wander for centuries, were now hers to claim.

A spark of Hunt’s lightning struck the two pairs of wings still pinned to the wall. His own wings, and Isaiah’s. They caught fire, burning until they were nothing but ashes floating on the breeze of a thousand wings, freed at last from this place.

“I knew as soon as you reached the Rift—my Harpy told me, and I watched you through her eyes before you ended her.”

Fuck

Bryce slid the Mask back on, and its ungodly, leeching presence ate into her soul. But the star inside her seemed to hold the Mask at bay.

Rise, Bryce said, blasting the thought out. Fight. Obey Isaiah Tiberian and Naomi Boreas. Hel is your ally—you fight beside them.

Only she could see the twinkling souls of the Fallen, drifting toward those suits from the nearby hilltop, alighting on them one by one by one. The eyes of the suits blazed again. Bryce saw the nearest mech-suit lift its metal arm in front of its face. Watch its fingers wriggle with something like wonder. Then it turned to the closest Asterian Guard and bashed the soldier’s head in.

*insert Voldemort laugh here*

“Fallen, you are now Risen! To the gates!” Isaiah looked back at Hunt, his eyes brimming with pride and determination.

The air seemed to pulse with the power from those blades, from Bryce. Like they knew the time to unite had come at last.

So Hunt rallied his own power, rising to meet his mate.

Polaris’s eyes widened as Bryce plunged the blades into her chest. And as those blades thrust through skin and bone, the star in Bryce’s own chest flared out to meet them.

It collided with the blades, and both sword and knife blazed bright, as if white-hot. The light extended up through Bryce’s hands, her arms, her body, turning her incandescent— Into a star. A sun. Polaris screamed, her mouth opening unnaturally wide.

Gone were the princes’ humanoid skins. Creatures of darkness and decay stood there, mouths full of sharp teeth, leathery wings splayed.

Like whatever was happening at that intersection of the blades was drawing the world in, in, in. To the portal to nowhere.

Too slow. Whatever Theia’s star was summoning, the portal was opening too slowly, and every second that it yawned wider threatened to swallow Bryce, too. He’d been made by Hel to help her. To end this. Helfire and starfire: a potent combination, Bryce had said in Hel.

Hunt unleashed his lightning, directed it toward the nexus where those blades met. It flowed like a sizzling ribbon through the world, past the deathstalkers, past the Princes of Hel, past the mech-suits— Hunt watched it collide with the sword and dagger right where they crossed, where Theia’s star still glowed between them, binding them in unholy union. And where his Helfire met starfire, where lightning met blades, it bloomed with blinding light.

He expected an outward explosion, expected to see every last bit of Asteri bone and brain rupture, shard by shard. But instead, Polaris imploded. Her chest caved in, sucked into the blades as if by a powerful vacuum.

The thing Polaris had been sucked into. A black dot.

A portal to nowhere. To a black hole.

They’d killed a gods-damned Asteri.

The princes looked like the worst of horrors, but Hunt knew their true nature now. They had come to help. And for a single heartbeat, pride at being a son of Hel threaded through him.

A light shone. He hadn’t thought Bryce had that kind of power left—but no. It wasn’t Bryce.

Tharion was swimming toward them through the hall. Ketos had never commanded enough power to control this much water, and with such force, yet here he was, clearly the master of this flood.

Her gunshot wound healed instantly. Lidia’s eyes flew open, blazing gold. She looked down at her hands, flexing her fingers. “I knew she’d figure it out,” Lidia repeated, more to herself than to him.

Ithan slid to the ground among the screaming people, reaching for his pack. Frantically, he pulled out the container with the vials of antidote for Bryce and Hunt. Liquid leaked from them. Only shards of the vials remained. Tharion had more, but Luna knew where the mer was in this mess.

Bryce’s message hadn’t only been a distraction for the Asteri. It had been a rallying cry. For the people who had suffered most at the Asteri’s hands. So Ithan began hurtling for the palace again. Past all those humans, valiantly helping and fighting—despite the odds, despite the cost. The antidotes for his friends were gone. But he still had the rifle and its bullet. Make your brother proud.

Tharion grunted, going down before Ruhn could see where the mer had been hit. Somewhere in the chest—

Ruhn snarled, saying the words he hadn’t dared voice until now, “She’s my mate, you fucker.”

So he said to her, mind-to-mind, I love you. I fell in love with you in the depths of my soul, and it’s my soul that will find yours again in the next life.

But Lidia ran, swift as the wind. Swifter than a bullet.

How Lidia reached Brann in time. How she threw herself over her son, knocking him to the ground as she burst into white-hot flames. They erupted from her like a brimstone missile, blasting Pollux off his feet. Not some freak accident or bomb, but fire magic, pouring out of Lidia. Searing from her.

“Brannon.”