It was only the memory of what a thirst for vengeance had done to Talia that kept Layla from descending into a deep, unyielding rage.

Her friend. Kestra was her friend. She had kept her together these years, given her strength, listened to and understood her. She had reached out a hand to her when she was lost and alone and unable to give anything back. She was kind and generous and wonderful. And these monsters had stolen her, hurt her and wrecked havoc on her home.

Layla was all too eager to return the favour.

But even she wasn't sure she was ready to go to such lengths as Lysandra suggested. What she was suggesting was mildly treasonous, completely heretical and utterly mad. And that was only the start of the plan.

Still, if it meant saving Kestra, she'd go through with it. Even if her friend would be totally mortified if she knew what they were planning to do in

order to rescue her.

They'd quickly figured out that she was in BrightLake Forest. Daemon's

strange tracking abilities had led them right to her. He'd reported that she was drowsy and her trace was strange and muted, likely drugged. He'd also mentioned an otherworldly aura hanging over the forest, but she imagined he was just being dramatic. He lived for that sort of thing—ominous warnings and vague nonsense about ancient things and unnatural magic.

It took them a full day to reach BrightLake Forest.     She'd expected Kestra and

her captors to continue to travel at speed, but Daemon reported they'd only

moved to the edges of the forest. It made no sense, but maybe Diaz was so confident in the secrecy of her hiding place that she didn't feel she needed to stay on the move.

As far as they could tell, Diaz had hightailed out of Triad after the attack and made it to the forest last night. They were only a few hours behind and the sudden delay last night meant they had a chance at catching up with Kestra this morning.

Layla shifted uncomfortably on the pine needles, her unfaltering gaze fixed on the camp . Beside her, Maia's lightning crackled over her hand in bright white sparks.

"You'll draw attention," she warned her. But her mirror only grinned at her and tossed the ball in the air.

"They'll dismiss it as a trick of the light if they do notice. Trust me. I've done these sorts of ambushes before. People only see what they want to."

"Maybe they want to see a terrifying lightning goddess emerge from the forest and strike them down." Layla joked.

"I'm not a goddess," Maia replied, a touch sharply. Of course. Of the two of them, Maia had always been more religious. It was ironic in a way, given Layla was Elena's chosen one.

How this plan must grate on her. Indeed, she could see her twin giving Lysandra an annoyed look as the young empress monitored the camp—she had been the one who suggested it in the first place.

Layla turned her attention back to the fledgling group. At least fifty of them, all sleeping for now, except for the oblivious guards. That was strange. The sun was long past up; they should be awake by now. The attack on Triad was two nights ago. They couldn't still be exhausted, could they?

Maybe something happened last night, Layla thought worriedly. Maybe the valkyries had attacked Sirius or Allia? They were close enough to the latter, or at least one of the fringe settlements nearby. They'd been in the wild since yesterday morning; news wouldn't yet have reached them if there had been any disturbance. Layla felt sick at the thought of any more dead. Her people, every last one of them, whether or not they were elves. The few who could accept their new world were all her people.

No point panicking when there was nothing she could do about it. Her mission was to rescue Kestra and nothing would keep her from it. She could afford no distractions. And certainly no second-guessing, she thought to herself, resolution to go through with this plan strengthening. The goddesses would forgive her in time, and if they didn't then it was their problem, not hers.

She'd do anything, including taking on a host of furious deities, if it meant saving her best friend. The one person who understood what it felt like to wear a crown she did not want, to face a burden that seemed so large and daunting that it crushed her with every breath she took.

Lysandra began to will shadows to life, wisps of darkness gathering and weaving through her fingers. They sent shivers down Layla's spine. Every bone in her body told her to run. That this was unnatural. Witchairian. Wrong. But she'd seen Lysandra use her power for good (though sparingly) and she'd certainly seen elfin and valkyrian powers used for evil. The instincts within her were nothing but ancestral memory and the reaction of her own magic, the polar opposite of Lysandra's witch-granted gifts.

She waited. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight.

Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled eerily. Aegean's work most likely; his AnimalSpeaker abilties were uncommonly powerful.

Seven. Six. Five.

A thunderclap in the distance, unaccompied by lightning. Her sister.

Four. Three. Two.

The shadows rapidly expanded, shooting into the sky.

One. Zero.

The sky turned a terrifying black and a great clap of thunder echoed through the air. Again, no lightning came. Only the rumbling of thunderclouds. Her twin was an artist.

The people in the camp all suddenly woke, getting out of tents and panicking at the pitch black world around them. Thunderclaps continued and some put their hands over their ears to shield themselves from the noise. Illusion mists formed around the camp—Alexandrius, their Mind-Weaver's, work. Out of nowhere, a voice echoed through the silence.

"Children of my sister," it began. It was a voice wrought of thunder, of pure power. It made her shiver with fear and wonder.

Alexandrius had outdone himself.

Just as she thought it, a face appeared, carved from mist that darkened and lightened to form something like colour. Even though she'd never worshipped Belle, the goddess was unmistakeable. Alexandrius' likeness was perfect. Long black curls like Kestra's tumbled down her shoulders and stormy gray eyes stared out at the camp of valkyries. The goddess' oval face was the sort of rare, breathtaking beauty that inspired songs and paintings. She was beautiful beyond reckoning, but fury thundered in her icy gaze.

Despite being a peaceful goddess, Belle could be as deadly as her sister if she choose.

The camp stood in awed silence as they stared up at the goddess. Another wolf howled in the distance; one of them got down on their knees in prayer. Diaz stood at the front of the crowd, hateful eyes gleaming with something that looked like...wonder. Reverence. So the general really believed what she was doing was right and in the name of the goddesses. Fanatic.

"Children of my sister," illusion-Belle repeated. "You have wronged me." Alexandrius filled her voice with the wrath only a goddess could wield. Raw fury echoed in Belle's voice. Layla had goosebumps, even though she knew it was an illusion. The valkyries trembled with fear. One got down on her knees and started begging for forgiveness.

"My chosen one is bound in chains in your own camp," she said, fury growing as

she pointed at Kestra's tent. "You, who were named by my sister as her protectors,

have taken her from her home and chained her. You have doubted her claim to the

throne I gave her. You have sought to destroy her mother, my sister's true daughter. You have killed my own children and your siblings—valkyries like yourselves. You have betrayed your people, your queens and above all, me."

Countless valkyries fell to their knees, repenting and begging for forgiveness. Others turned against the illusion, shouting claims of elfin trickery. Diaz laughed at the false Belle, also claiming she was nothing more than elfin magic. It didn't matter. They didn't expect them all to believe.

"Bring Kestra Isidore, the true Keeper Queen, to me!" Belle ordered. "Give her to me, or you will all suffer the price of your betrayal!"

A few burst for Kestra's tent, only to be halted by the others. Maia sent down lightning to kill Kestra's guards. Lysandra and Alexandrius struggled under the weight of their magic, but held the shadows and illusions in place. Daemon flung himself into the chaos, knives slipping through the battlefield and leaving bodies in his wake.

But Layla didn't dare Sing. If she did, her presence would be instantly revealed and the illusion shattered.

But it was chaotic enough for her to at least join the fray, as Daemon had. She lunged towards the camp, Maia and Aegean following her.

Wolves and foxes emerged from the forest, battle cries sounding. Lightning set off crackling fires that consumed the trees and camp. Knives flew. Steel flashed. Beasts—both those under Aegean's control and those who were only valkyries in animal forms—ripped into one another. The world descended into utter chaos. The illusion of Belle faded into nothing, but the darkness hanging over them held strong.

Minutes. They had minutes before the light returned and the warring valkyries realised that this was an elfin rescue attempt, not a message from their goddess.

But minutes was all she needed

Layla tore through the camp, her breathing heavy. She needed to find Kestra.

They had come this far together, she and the Keeper Queen. Layla refused to lose her now.

———

Kestra

The voice of her goddess filled her dreams. Belle threatened her captors, promising vengeance if she was not freed. Strange. Belle had always resorted to diplomacy before threats. This merciless version of her was an elfin invention, part of their propaganda against the valkyries and Twins back in the God-Born Wars—and for many years after.

Dreams did not conform to accuracy, though. She supposed she shouldn't have been surprised that they portrayed Belle all wrong.

Footsteps thundered. Lightning flashed. Fire crackled. Inhuman roars and valkyrie screams shattered through the air. Was that part of the dream too? Reality and dreamscape had blurred ever since they gave her the sedatives. She didn't know what was real and what wasn't. What she had dreamed and what had truly

happened. She didn't care anymore. Sometimes, in the strange gray world of the

drugged sleep, she struggled to remember her own name.

"Kestra!" Someone shouted. Was she still dreaming? "Kestra!" It was Layla's voice. The voice of her friend. Strange. Wasn't Layla somewhere else? In a city...her home? Or was the mountain-ringed capital her home? She wasn't sure. Things were blurring in her dreams...past and present...reality and illusion...

Someone burst through the flaps of her tent. Another flash of lightning—this time close enough that it momentarily blinded her.

"Kestra, wake up!" Layla shouted. She opened her eyes groggily, still slipping in and out of sleep. Someone had picked her up. They were carrying her...the world was dark, so dark...

Outside her tent was chaos. Animals and valkyries ripped into each other. Swords clashed; daggers flew. She could see the faces of her captors. Some dueled side by side; other fought against each other. Why? They'd all been on the same side last night.

Memories came flashing back, shocking her to full awareness, if only for a

second. The fire. Anastasia's untouched phoenix brand. The Embers. Diaz's voice. The sedatives—no wonder her mind was so slow. They'd drugged her. It would wear off soon, but not soon enough.

Where was Anastasia? She had to get Layla to save her too. Desperately, she searched for the golden-haired girl in the crowd, but it was too chaotic for her to be able to distinguish friend from foe, let alone find the young Keeper Heir.

"My heir," Kestra said desperately, hoping Layla would listen. "My heir! She's in the camp. Anastasia...you have to save her too! We can't leave her here." Pain filled Layla's eyes as Kestra implored her, but she shook her head.

"You're delusional. Things won't make sense right now, but they've drugged you. You're going to be just fine, but you need to know that everything was just a dream. None of it was real."

"Layla—" Kestra insisted.

"It's over now. We're going to protect you. I promise." Layla interrupted. It was fear—fear in her face, mixed up with pain and love and rage.

Kestra tried to plead with her, but her words fell upon deaf ears. She struggled for a few minutes to no avail, then sleep swallowed her whole.