Lorcan plowed his own path toward the advancing khagan lines, some Morath soldiers fleeing in his wake. Some falling before he reached them, his magic snapping their lives away. Soon now. They’d win the field soon, and the song in his blood would quiet. Part of him didn’t want it to end, even as his body began to scream to rest. Yet when the battle was done, what would remain? Nothing. Elide had made that clear enough. She loved him, but she hated herself for it.
