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October 21 - October 24, 2025
For he knew in his bones that she would emerge victorious, Naarvian steel in hand, vows of vengeance on her tongue. And that she would come for him.
And just when he could take no more, just as he considered cracking his own head upon the stone to make it stop, he was shown something else. Something good. His cabin. Home. And Thea waiting for him inside, a simple band of fine silver on her fourth finger, a smile on her full lips. ‘There you are,’ she said.
The thought was bittersweet, for she’d won the Great Rite and achieved what she’d always wanted, only to have lost something more precious when she emerged.
For him, the world would wait. And when he was safe at her side, they could watch the whole fucking thing go up in flames to be reborn anew.
‘Any ideas?’ Talemir asked. ‘One,’ Thea replied, and she launched into outlining her plan. When she was done, Talemir stared at her for a moment before finally saying, ‘He taught you well.’ ‘He did.’
‘Then the world will know that if they hurt him, I’ll burn them all to the ground.’
As blood dripped from Wilder’s swords, that brilliant white light flared again.
At last, he tasted the storm on his lips, and looked up.
She broke away, panting. ‘I love you,’ she gasped, refusing to tear her eyes away from him. ‘I love you
so much I can hardly breathe. I’ve wanted to say it for so long —’
Wilder gave a hoarse, broken laugh. ‘Tell me again later. Tell me when we’re safe.’ Thea kissed him again, desperate to show him that tempest he’d brought to life within her from the moment they’d met....
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He didn’t question why she wasn’t using magic. He simply let her take the lead, an equal, a fellow Warsword in command.
‘You’re dead anyway,’ she promised. ‘But touch him again, I dare you.’
‘I am the storm,’ she told herself. She let her lightning rage, right alongside her heart, and she split the gods-damned tower in two.
Still clutching his swords, Wilder watched in awe and reverence as his love took on the world for him.
‘I asked them if I’d regret it… not seeking immortal life.’ He met her celadon gaze, memorising every one of her features anew. ‘They told me that I’d never regret it. That while my life would hold much pain, it would also hold more love than I could ever imagine.’
‘You and I? We’re forever. We have been since I spied on you atop the cliffs at Thezmarr, since you shot that arrow at me in the Bloodwoods, and every moment since. We will find a way through this,’ she vowed. ‘Together.’
In the fractured amber light streaming through the stained-glass windows, Thea washed the blood from his hands, and the pain from his heart.
The Shadow Prince rose from his chair and peered over Wilder’s shoulder, pointing to the third figure. ‘I believe that’s you.’ ‘Me?’ Wilder frowned, but Thea could see the emotion lining his silver eyes. ‘We’ve told him stories about you his whole life,’ Talemir explained. ‘He’s always known who you are.’
Thea was sprawled on a bench beneath an ivy-covered archway, wearing a loose shirt and pants,
her armour stacked beside her, her feet bare. A notebook was clutched tightly between her hands, as though it were something precious.
Wilder Hawthorne was a god, and she would gladly worship at his altar.
Drue laughed. ‘If the brink of war is no time for a kiss, I don’t know when is.’ With that, she left, taking a yawning Ryland with her. Talemir stared after her for a moment, and Wilder recognised that expression. Disbelief at his own luck. Wilder had felt it many times himself.
A gentle hand came down on her shoulder, and the scent of rosewood and leather quelled the fire within her. ‘You have proven time and time again that you can fight your own battles,’ Wilder murmured in her ear. ‘But there are those you shouldn’t have to. Let me fight this one for you. Let me carry this burden.’
‘You never need to thank me,’ Wilder told her. ‘I will always fight for you. And it’s my honour to do so.’
‘Promise me never again. Whatever we do from here on out, we do together.’ ‘I don’t think Kipp’s battle plans —’ ‘Not on the battlefield. In life,’ he said. ‘Where you go, I go, from now on.’
Don’t let the world – don’t let anyone convince you that you’re not enough. Only you define your story. You and you alone. When they tell you what you’re not, when they tell you what you can’t do, remember: you are the storm, Elwren. You split the skies and flood the plains. You make the ground tremble beneath their boots. No one can fucking stop you.’
‘Will you hold it against me if I tell you I love you?’ he said quietly, so only she could hear. Her breath caught in her throat and she shook her head. ‘Never. We will never hold back saying that ever again.’ ‘Good,’ Wilder replied. ‘Because I love you, so deeply, Thea. And if I tell you I love you a thousand times a day for the rest of our lives, it will not have been enough.’
Wilder charged headlong into the heart of the monstrous horde, with the love of his life riding at his side and uncontainable pride swelling in his chest. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with, regardless of the odds. Together, they were unstoppable.
Kipp’s voice carried across the clash of shields and swords, and she whirled around to find him amid the fighting. Wasn’t he meant to be at the back? ‘Get the oil barrels! The Flaming Arrow will be ready,’ he was telling Talemir, gasping for air. ‘Drench the fucking lot of them with oil and we’ll light those fuckers up.’
‘What the fuck were you doing?’ she muttered, noting the film of venom on the fang, the pallor of Kipp’s face. ‘Dancing the fucking foxtrot with a bunch of spiders —’
‘I thought… I thought it was most powerful when it was used on someone you love,’ she said.
A violent gasp made her jump. She whirled around to see Kipp’s eyes flutter, the wound in his chest knitting closed. ‘Furies save me,’ he rasped. ‘Are you trying to get me killed again, Thea? Don’t tell the Warsword you love me.’
He didn’t think he could bear the agony of it. It was worse than any wound he’d suffered in all his years of slaying monsters. But for her? For her he would bleed a thousand times over. For this fraction of a life with her, he’d pay the price of grief – for loving her was a privilege, and that privilege was worth any cost.
‘The battle for Aveum was a diversion,’ he said, gripping the sword at his belt. ‘Osiris has welcomed the reapers into Thezmarr. The fortress has fallen.’
‘What?’ Esyllt barked, gripping the sides of his chair. ‘You’re mad.’ Kipp grinned. ‘Often that goes hand in hand with genius.’
But it was to Thea that the commander looked, regret shining in his eyes as he approached and slowly unsheathed his sword. He knelt before her, offering the blade. ‘The Warsword was right.’ His voice was stripped of all contempt. ‘You are owed my apologies, and my allegiance. It was an honour to fight on the same field as you, Warsword Embervale. And I would do so again in a heartbeat. My sword is yours.’
‘You asked me what I wanted?’ he rasped, thrusting into her slowly, deeply. ‘I want more than war stories and bloodshed. I want to build a life with you, Thea.’
‘With the odds stacked against us in every way, this battle will test the very heart of us. But it is in these moments of dire peril that legends are born. It is battles like these that forge warriors with blood and steel. I stand before you now not as a Warsword, nor an heir of a kingdom, but as a sister of the sword. You may not know me well. You may not know me at all… But I know you.’ Thea braced herself. ‘You are the true warriors of the midrealms – those who have been knocked down time and time again, only to rise up stronger than before. What those bastards behind these walls fail to
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As Thea’s lightning sang within, ready to be unleashed upon the world of shadow, so too did Wren’s and Anya’s. In a blinding flash, their magic linked together. It was like different notes from the same song intertwining, each sister’s magic subtly different but forging together in harmony.
‘We are all daughters of darkness, Thea. We were born into a world of it, a place that would dictate the way in which we defend ourselves, the way we live our lives. No more. That world is no longer. And the next one will be what we make it.’
In his peripheral vision, Wilder watched her. She was power incarnate, a tempest personified, a Warsword of the highest calibre, and gods, he loved her.
When all this was over, he would tell her. He would tell her a thousand times over and then a
thousand times more. He’d ask her to be his wife, tra...
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Lightning crackled in her veins once more and she felt an otherworldly presence surround her – not one of darkness and malice, but one of fury. Iseldra. Morwynn. Valdara. They were here. The Furies were with her. ‘There are few who can face themselves as well as their nightmares and emerge whole on the other side,’ they whispered.
‘I swore to cast the evil from these lands. I swore to hunt, punish and kill any and all who threaten these kingdoms. It does end, Jasira. And it ends with you.’
‘When did you know?’ he said, voice low. Wilder’s brow furrowed. ‘Know what?’ ‘That Thea was the one for you?’ Rubbing the back of his neck, Wilder felt a pang of sympathy for the Bear Slayer, whose dark gaze hadn’t left the beautiful alchemist. ‘I always knew,’ Wilder told him honestly. Torj nodded with a sigh of resignation. ‘Figured as much.’
Her gaze instantly found Wilder’s, a wide smile breaking across her face. The sight nearly floored him, and for a brief moment, he was taken back to the image he’d seen when he’d been a prisoner of the Scarlet Tower – of Thea in his cabin, a simple band of silver around her fourth finger. One day, he vowed. One day I’ll ask her to be my wife.
He looked into her eyes, loving every flicker of that untamed storm within. ‘I always said you’d be the end of me,’ he told her, throat bobbing. ‘But I was wrong. You’re the beginning.’
‘For Furies’ sake,’ Kipp whined. ‘Can we please have a drink? You can do just as much gushing over one another sitting down with a tankard of mead in your hand.’
