Page 100 of The Blood Rites

“He doesn’t like repeating himself,” Vaelis says, skewering me with a look.

“You won’t fight,” he says. “You certainly won’t kill, so you’re useless here.”

He’s right.

I haul Marissa up. She’s conscious but dazed, one hand pressed to the swelling at the back of her skull. I get her feet under her and start dragging her towards where the bridge should be.

Behind me, I hear a wet, splintering crunch and a scream that is very, very brief. I turn just in time to see Vaelis drive the stone knife straight through Orla’s chest. Her body goes slack, and absurdly, some part of me tries to believe she’s only asleep.

The Mother Shard’s magic swells, filling the air until every breath feels thick as tar.

Orla’s body rises into the air, just like Sorin’s. A twisted, bleeding marionette. Golden-red light tears out of her, shredding her body to ribbons as it snakes towards the Mother Shard’s pink crystalline crown.

The golden three pulses and changes into a four.

With a sundering crack, the Earth island shears clean in two. One half falls through the mist, while the remaining piece sinks lower with every breath, dropping beneath the other five islands.

The realisation settles cold in my stomach. Orla dies, and the Earth island breaks. Rask is still alive, and one piece remains. If he dies too, does it fall further? Or does it drop out of the sky entirely?

Vaelis looks at me and gives a lazy salute, then sinks into a pool of shadow, leaving Rask alone, sprawled on the ground, howling into the wind.

We reach the edge and find the bridge to the Water island still intact, though it’s nowhere near as solid as the one Rask and Orla crossed. There are gaps, but nothing we can’t clear with a run-up.

“Did you see that?” Marissa asks, her voice trembling.

I nod, still staring at the place where Orla fell apart.

“Why didn’t he kill us too?” she asks.

“Because of Kael,” I say, because there is no point pretending otherwise.

I’m almost flattered, but the careless ease with which Vaelis ended Orla’s life turns the feeling sour. I swallow my revulsion and force my attention back to the bridge.

“We need to cross before this bridge collapses, in case the Mother Shard decides to tear it apart.”

“I’m scared,” Marissa says, and I hate how often she has had to say it. I wish I could ease her fear, but I am carrying too much of my own.

I force a smile onto my face. “Everything will be alright.”

She rolls her eyes as we step onto the makeshift bridge.

Behind us, Rask is still cursing.

We tumble onto the Water island, and the bridge splits apart behind us, its pieces scattering in the wind.

The ground here is veined with pale blue, colder and smoother beneath my feet, almost slick. The wind is softer here, filtered through mist that hangs over everything like homespun gauze. In the centre of the island, Lyssandra and Morwen kneel, hands clasped. Lyssandra’s hair hangs in a long plait down her back, while Morwen’s is coiled around her head and clipped in place. They do not look up as we approach, their lips moving in prayer, their eyes closed against the world.

Callen sits beside Morwen, not quite touching but close enough to guard her. Marissa stares at the scene, then glances at me.

“That was fast,” she says bitterly. “Not the safest bet for an alliance, though, since they don’t do anything but pray.”

I can only shrug.

Callen doesn’t acknowledge us. His face is turned towards Morwen, her skin glowing faintly blue through the mist. Maybe he came here for comfort, borrowing faith because he has none left of his own. Maybe he’s afraid of being alone. Just not afraid enough to stand with me.

“Are they praying for a miracle?” Marissa asks quietly.

“No,” I say. “I think they’re praying for a quick death.”