The swirling terror in my head drowns out Alaric's shouting. A loud buzzing halts any chance I hear anything normally, not the rebels gathering behind Renit and me, or Bren ordering Tesha and a group of archers to station themselves on top of the buildings towards the edge of the village. No one gets in, and the rebels don't leave.

The weak or the mortals are stashed within the village. They cannot do much here, but we still require their services down the road. For now, the ones fighting this battle are the immortal strengths stationed towards the front—including me.

Renit's storm brews overhead. The dark clouds swallow each other, and for the time being, lightning and thunder fester within instead of striking to the ground below. The king's men don't move, they're not commanded to. They stare and wait, holding their breath for us to strike. Only then will they unleash the hell they brought with them.

Alaric pushes his way to the front of the gathering rebels. I don't have to look behind me to know the stations are set, the rebels are where they need to be, and everyone is holding their breath. That's evident by the silence, the only sound being the drawing back of bowstrings and the faint whispers spreading filtering through the cluster of armor and magic.

It was only so long before the king's men found us. No one, not even Silas or Hallie, could stop this from happening. I wonder where they are now; locked in a dungeon or fighting for their lives to remain adequate enough for the king of Esaria. With an army...he's unstoppable. He doesn't need an heir to the throne anymore. His future is set in stone. 

Renit's storm brews thicker overhead and the wind sharpens its daggers to slither towards the waiting soldiers. It's not until a shrill scream erupts from behind us, a warning, that we realize exactly what they're doing. The group of soldiers in front of us is merely a distraction to bide them enough time to attack Arego from the back.

"Adjust your flanks!" Alaric shouts before disappearing into the fray.

Appearing at my side, Citlali narrows her eyes at the group of still, non-moving soldiers. They're merely a ploy, yet they must die. If we're to face attacks from all sides, they're another blockade we'll have to face eventually.

"We got this," Citlali assures Renit. I can't find the right words to say to either of them, I knew the day would come where I'd spill more blood, but it shouldn't be so soon.

With a firm squeeze of my arm, Renit departs into the rushing crowd of rebels already fighting to protect the western side of Arego. I watch his dark hair, broad shoulders, and rumpled tunic disappear into the crowd before he's lost to me. The remaining archers patrolling this area watch carefully, their arrows drawn, and wait for their orders.

I look over my shoulder at Tesha and give her a firm nod. Without hesitation, she raises her bow, flame-tipped arrow bleeding into the night sky, and fires. The other three archers follow suit. The arrows volley before dropping, dropping, and landing into the group of blind soldiers. Grunts and a scream loosen, shoving the soldiers forward, and the witch at the front, one I recognize to the be the first victim we converted, erupts.

A blast as white as snow shoots from his fingers and aims directly for where Citlali and I stand. Our powers are too quick, both of us create shields the size of buildings to block the freezing ice heading straight to impale us. The sound of thundering boots proves we don't have enough time to wait. The soldiers are charging.

"Fire now!" Tesha screams into the night.

Citlali, already panting with adrenaline, smiles at me wickedly. "Like we did in training?" She asks.

Without giving a solid answer, I break away and distance myself from her. Powers will erupt shortly, we don't have a lot of time, so not a second is wasted. We force our powers at each other and they slam in the middle of the street, cracking and demolishing the ground below. I force my knees not to buckle under the pressure when the power vibrates through my bones.

"Now!" Citlali shouts over the ringing in my ears.

My power is ready. I force right when she does the same and in unison, our powers spiral together like a battering ram. A firm shove of my palm in that direction has the ground splitting underneath the mingling of our two strengths. The soldiers continue to rush, dying either by flying arrow or the thick clump of ground aiming directly towards the center of their forces.

Bones break on impact. I squeeze my eyes against the sickening noise breaking through the onrush of the army, but I don't allow that to bring me down. Squelches of blood and mud mix, and it doesn't take long for me to be unable to discern one source from the next. Groans and pleads ring out underneath stomping boots. They're crushing their own men. The outer flanks are still coming closer, and I break my power from Citlali's to take on one side while she handles the other.

These soldiers must die, for if they don't, it'll be us. And we have unfinished business to attend to. If these soldiers win, no one will be here to kill the king. He sent his soldiers here to die and believed he'd weaken our forces. In return, we'll give him back nothing but their heads.

I force out my power whether or not it's ready to fight. The ground rumbles and groans, shaking with certainty. I pull up a spiral from the surface, leaking with roots and rock, and shove my palms, forcing the power through my motions, in the direction of my enemy. Their powers erupt: flame, ice, water—everything rushes at me.

Citlali works much quicker. She creates two walls thicker than buildings and shoves them together, trapping the flank of soldiers within. The unsettling sound of them dying in unison; bones breaking and blood spraying—it makes me sick. When I falter, when my heart tells me to stop killing, she's there to drop a bomb of ground on top of the remainder of still-beating hearts.

This time, through the crack in the ground that I cleave, the sounds of their death won't brandish the night.

Screams for order come back to me. Tesha is already moving in that direction by leaping across rooftops with her snipers following behind her. She moves so swiftly, like an assassin on the run, that by the time I'm running in the same direction, she's already gone into the night.

My heart races in my chest. The Grounding bond is still tight, meaning Renit is still alive, and if that evidence wasn't convincing enough—his storm is still wreaking havoc onto the soldiers down below. That's how I know where to go. The lightning striking down from the clouds and twisting like veins along the surface of the sky, that's where Renit is. He's still alive.

"We need a dome!" Citlali shouts as we run through the streets. Already, bodies litter the dirt. And they belong to both parties.

"Multiplied?" I pant.

A firm nod proves she agrees. To not exhaust the entirety of our power by keeping up a dome with one single power, we'll do it together. We turn, facing towards the eastern part of Arego, and from the outskirts on either side, pull up the ground to create a dome over half the city. Inside, the lesser witches and mortals will be safe.

Not only them, but Celestine will be, too. She's still huddled in the community kitchens, hopefully with someone to protect her, and the dome will do the rest for me. No soldier of the king's power is strong enough to break through that with ease.

The dome casts a shadow over the moonlight and is as dark as the sky overhead. Dirt and rock cakes together and creates an impenetrable surface that I'll have to hold with one fist closed. I've never exhausted this much other than on the battlefield with the king at my side. A dome this size is not half that but comes close, so I must be careful.

The dying voices call out to me. They sound like the humans from the settlement outside the capital. Their screams of terror and warning echo through my skull and mingle together from the past and the future of these deaths. Each one—belonging to me. Citlali and I killed numerous soldiers back there, and there's not a single face I remember. Not even the witch of ice obliterated by the battering ram of our two powers of ground. I had watched as his body was the first to face such an unavoidable force. At the last second, he thrust up a shield of ice but it splintered, shattering like glass, and hissed into steam at the heat of what cut through its creator. 

I spot Renit through the fray, going toe to toe with one of the king's soldiers. Like the true warrior he is, he fights with a weapon instead of the strong power gifted at birth. I cannot say the same. As I run in his direction, I channel my power to snake underneath the ground and as Renit kicks the soldier in the stomach, shoving him back, I gift my power the chance to shoot from the surface.

In the shape of a jagged, knife-tipped spiral, the power of ground impales the young witch before he can move forward and attempt to hurt Renit again. The banished prince whirls, searching for me, and when his eyes land on mine, relief like I've never seen before splashes onto his features. But it's the last second of relief as another charges for him, only to come face to face with another impaling force of the power of ground.

Slowing to a stop at his side, I bark, "Pay attention. I can't lose you in this fight."

Like we've lost so many already. On the western side of the village, the destruction is enough to make my heart sink. Bodies—enemies and allies—litter the field. I recognize the rebels, their eyes open in pain as they shed their final breaths. The king's men writhe until they can't move anymore, the order of their leader being so strong that even internal bleeding can't keep them down.

I know the feeling.

"We need to scour the rest of the village," Renit orders. "Bren and Alaric have this handled here." Sure enough, I look around Renit to find Alaric lifting soldiers off the ground and vaulting them into the sky with his power of gravity. His tactic is simple—remove the gravity to their bodies and once they're high enough, bring them back to the ground rapidly.

"Citlali!" I shout over blades clashing.

She finds me through the cluster of hell, and I jerk my chin in the opposite direction. There are other parts of the village we haven't checked yet and if more soldiers linger there, we won't consider ourselves safe for long.

The three of us, as one team, head in the direction of the silent part of Arego. Bodies litter here, too, but it's not the king's men. No. Each body here belongs to a rebel. And as I figure that out, a clear warning that isn't noted by Citlali or Renit, the power of ground slams into my chest and I'm blasted back.

When I collide with the dirt street, all the air leaves my lungs. Renit shouts my name and Citlali is squinting into the mist to prepare herself for who might appear. The power of ground...no one else in this kingdom can hold it. Except for...

Through the fog of death and smoke from Renit's storm and Bren's flame, the source of this hell appears from the alley. He walks with a familiar swagger, but the smirk on his face is not his own. I realize just how outnumbered we are as Silas Marron, crown prince of Esaria, emerges—wearing the same armor as the king's men.