“I’m so sorry. I choose your life, too. You are mine. I can’t let you die.”
Andarna shifts around my side, moving forward so she’s poised to step between my mother and me.
Oh gods. No. Sloane is a siphon.
“Can you hear them up there dying? That’s what’s happening,” Mom says, her tone softer than she’s ever used with me. “Your friends are dying, Cadet Mairi. Tyrrendor’s heir is fighting for his life, and you can stop it. You can save them all.” She picks up her free hand, and to my dread, Sloane doesn’t drop the other from the stone.
“Don’t do it!” I cry. “Sloane, that’s my mother.” This isn’t happening. Maybe Sloane won’t listen to me, but she’ll listen to Xaden. I throw down my shields—
Pain. Agonizing, blistering pain roars down the pathway. Hopelessness and… helplessness? It hits me from every angle, stealing my breath, overwhelming my senses and my strength. My body sags—my full weight in Aaric’s arms—as my mind fights to separate Xaden’s emotions from mine.
He’s… I can’t think around the pain, can’t breathe for the tightness in my chest, can’t feel the ground beneath my feet.
“Xaden’s dying,” I whisper.
Sloane’s gaze snaps to mine, and that’s all it takes.
“You don’t have to do anything but stand there,” my mother promises somewhere in the distance. “Your signet will take over for you. Think of yourself as nothing more than a conduit for power. You’re simply facilitating mine flowing into the stone.”
“Violet?” Sloane whispers.
I drag my gaze to hers, but I’m not here. Not really. I’m dying on the battlefield, the last of my strength fading, burning, consuming my body. But it will be worth it to save the one I love. Violet.
“Fight!” I scream down the bond at all three of them, shouting past blood and vengeance. Wrath and fire. The sour taste of wyvern flesh between her teeth.
“You can do this,” Mom says, her voice soothing.
“Mom!” My voice cracks as she laces her fingers with Sloane’s.
“It’s all right,” Mom says to me, her eyes softening as Sloane’s body goes rigid. “As soon as my power—Aimsir’s power—lives within the stone, fire it. Raise the wards. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe. Do you understand? Everything was to get you to this moment, when you’d be strong enough—” She falls to her knees but doesn’t let go of Sloane.
“No, no, no.” I fight Aaric’s arms as my chest threatens to collapse, to crumple in on my heart. Mom blinks in and out of my vision, blurry one second, then clear.
“I’m so sorry,” Aaric whispers.
“You’re everything we dreamed you would be,” Mom says quietly, her skin paling even as Sloane’s flushes scarlet. “All three of you.” She looks down at Brennan. “And I’ll get to see him soon.”
Our father. My eyes flare as I struggle to break free from Aaric.
“Don’t,” Brennan begs, shaking his head. “Don’t do this.” He staggers to his feet, stumbling her direction, but doesn’t get far before falling.
“Live well.” Her head bobs and her eyes roll as her skin takes on a waxy pallor that’s an obscene contrast to her flight leathers as her chest rises and falls slower, in a stuttered, incomplete breath.
Brennan crawls toward her.
Footsteps sound from behind me, coming at us at a run.
“No!” I scream, tearing my throat, ripping into my soul.
A distinct, hair-raising hum emanates from the wardstone as Mom falls forward into Brennan’s arms.
Sloane staggers backward, staring at her palms like they belong to someone else, and Aaric finally lets me go.
I fly forward, hitting my knees in front of where Brennan sits with Mom’s body draped across his lap, his hand trembling as he reaches for her face. My fingers find her neck, but there’s no pulse. No heat. No life.
The only beat I hear are bootsteps racing into the chamber.
She’s gone.
“Mom,” Brennan whispers, his face crumpling as he looks down at her.
“What did you do!” Mira drops to her knees and pulls Mom’s body from Brennan, her hands furiously seeking what mine just had, any sign of a heartbeat. “Mom?” She shakes her violently, but Mom’s head rolls onto her shoulder.
“Mom!”
I can’t breathe. She’s the tide, the storms, the very air, a force too big to be extinguished without ripping the world itself apart to the core. How can she just be gone?
“I’m so sorry.” Sloane cries softly.
“What did you do?” Mira yells again, the full force of her wrath turned on Brennan.
“Xaden needs you,” Andarna says, but I can’t move. “Tairn and Sgaeyl wait with him.”
“We need to get them out,” Aaric says, and there are hands—his, I think—on my shoulders, pulling me up off the floor and guiding me backward.
Mira follows, hooking her arms under Mom’s and dragging her from the chamber. Sloane helps Brennan, and then we’re all in the tunnel. Someone else carries Mom. One of the first-years?
Mira’s hands are on my face, searching my eyes, as a shape blocks the entrance to the tunnel. “Are you all right?”
