"What do you mean, she's fled?" Gustus shouts. He skids down the mountain of dirt to stand in front of Lyndel.

Seconds ago, the fladline had fought like no guard I have ever seen. Quickly, and without the slightest hint of hesitation. If I didn't know any better, I would believe him to be part of the royal family and trained to behave in the same manner. Like he stands on top of the world and everyone, down to the royals themselves, are beneath his abilities.

And with one arm, I realize. When he moves his right arm, even to take a deep breath, he winces. A puddle of blood leaks out from underneath his armor, near his shoulder. A stream is granted access through the blade that once struck him. I have a compelling reason to believe the soldier behind the wound is dead now.

"Millicent Terravale has left her people to fend for themselves. The four of you, her four children, are the only members of nobility attempting to fight for their city."

"That doesn't make any sense," Theo scoffs. "She wouldn't leave."

Lyndel's expression turns heavy. "She would if she values her throne over her people."

"But the people—"

"It doesn't matter what Wyetta does to those in the city." Lyndel raises a hand to stop Theo. The one time he wishes the queen's heart to be pure is also the least likely place for that to happen. Of course, she abandoned us. I wouldn't expect anything less from her. "She has separated support from a throne, and if her sister makes it far enough into the city to reach the palace, Millicent wishes to be there to defend it."

Gustus and I share a knowing look. We truly are running out of options.

"I advise you to flee," Lyndel goes on. Immediately, Cloak shakes his head. "We have secret entrances into the city, through the wall, that'll provide the royals with protection until this blows over."

"Until this blows over?" Cloak snaps. He stops himself from charging at the guard that protects his doors. Protects him from what he might do to himself if no one else is around. "This doesn't blow over. If Wyetta wins, we won't have a city to save or a home to go to. We'll come out to bloodshed and death."

Lyndel drags on an exhausted sigh. More soldiers are approaching. My heart thumps unsteadily in my chest. I look between the four of them, each of them attempting to make a very difficult decision in their heads. Either way, they stand to lose something if they fight or hide.

I will lose my family. The boards over their windows and doors won't stop the inevitable from coming; Wyetta will knock down every house with a simple wave of her hand and that doesn't scratch the surface of what she'll do to the people within. Torture, hangings, it all comes to mind. For them, for the city, for these people standing around me that have offered more protection than I could ever give...I have to do this.

Even if I lose my life in the end.

"Take him," I say shakily, never once tearing my eyes away from Cloak.

"What?" he snaps.

I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye and look towards Gustus's softened stare. He knows of the conclusion I have come to. "Take him and get him somewhere safe."

Cloak takes a hurried step towards me. The enemy is closing in. They're drawing their blades. "What is going on?" the prince shouts at the top of his lungs.

If only I knew.

I want to make a parting remark, to tell Cloak how much his friendship has meant to me, how much I wish to see him happy after this when I look down upon him from wherever I end up. Likely, in the gallows. Before I receive the chance to tell him anything of value, Gustus and Theo take his arms and begin the long trek to drag him away. On impulse, he thrashes against their hold. Stronger than the both of them, he knocks his brother away with a blow to the cheek after slipping his arm out of what should've been an irresistible hold.

Gustus recovers faster than I can take a shaken breath to clear my lungs. "What are you doing?"

I close my eyes to avoid watching Cloak's strained face to match grunted words. He's not fighting to get away from them, he's fighting to get to me. His path never changes, no matter the direction they force him in, he never shifts course. Purposefully, he makes a beeline towards the one thing he wishes to protect on this battlefield.

My turn has come to protect him.

Lyndel hasn't moved. Without turning a step or shifting my body in the slightest, I turn towards him with my eyes. He watches a salted tear roll down my cheek. Just as quickly as he watches my emotions pool at my clenched jaw, a hardened expression falls over his features. His mouth tightens into a deep frown, and his stare narrows. Like everyone else, he has been conditioned to hate what I am without caring for the assistance I can provide.

As I expected, he shakes his head. But he does as I silently request, and steps back, towards the struggling prince. At first, Cloak believes his guard has come to pry him free from a hold, but when Lyndel presses against Cloak's front and provides a final burst of strength to lift him off his feet and towards the city wall, away from the soulless soldiers, the prince realizes he was completely wrong.

Sweat beads on Cloak's forehead. He came onto this battlefield expecting to take down his enemy, not fight off those he has trusted since they came into his life. I can protect him this way, by forcing them back towards the city and away from what I plan to unleash.

I don't tear my stare away from his, and Cloak does the same. Through his fight, he watches me, watches us separate as the soulless soldiers choose to approach me instead. A lone target with no protection. Not a prince or the guard of one, not even the husband of the crown prince, but a friend of all.

Oh, how I'll miss them.

Like I have done many times in Gustus's chambers, I unlock a series of doors inside my head. Each one falls away, surprisingly with ease, and I summon a deep breath through that final, bolted door. I take an extra moment to gather my nerves.

Then, I tear the locks away.

Everything I have conditioned myself to hide over the past three years comes to me in a rush of warm sand and a brisk, blood-stained breeze. My scalp tingles.

I watch Cloak. He watches me while thrashing against the hold of three strong men. My spine tightens; the soulless soldiers are at the base of the hill Setsuko's bomb made. The one I stand upon. Cloak wishes to protect me from what he believes I don't realize, but I knew they were coming all along. And when I hear a blade releasing from a sheath, metal whining against metal, I allow the transformation to unleash.

At first, Cloak doesn't realize the tips of my hair fading to a color he hasn't familiarized himself with, but by the time my Luminary form takes over enough to crest my ears, his face falls. His body goes numb, and he stops fighting. His brown skin loses all color.

Lyndel glances over his shoulder, takes a double-take, and slows. Gustus and Theo do the same.

My breath comes rapidly. I have seen Cloak defeated, lost, and hurting from within. At this moment, the second my hair finishes painting itself the shade of clean snow, I have never seen him more beaten down. I suppose this is something I will have to live with, that he'll hate me for this. In my death, he won't trust a thing I said to remind him that life was worth living. If I couldn't share this, how could anything else be true?

I bring my hands together, one palm hovering over the other, and curl my fingers to form a ball of lightning in my grasp. My eyes blur, then clear, and my senses are heightened. Cloak becomes even more visible than he was moments ago—the blood on his face, the agonized look in his eye. I know what he's thinking. This can't be true.

Yet, it is.

He can't bring himself to the twitching bolts in my hands. The only thing he stares at is the Marie he thought existed. I hate to say she disappeared three years ago. Trust was never an option; we were thrust together from the start. I am content to say we built a friendship, and possibly something more if this night hadn't taken place.

I smile at the thought of what we have endured these past weeks. Cloak trusted me, he gave me his darkest secrets and asked for nothing in return.

The least I can do is give my life to protect his.

Taking one final look at Cloak's broken heart written over his face, I turn towards the oncoming threat. Ten soulless soldiers, and more towards the city. I hear Cloak scream out, not from anger or hatred, but to warn me of what I face. Even now, as the wind tears through my hair and the last of Setsuko's bomb legion inch across the field, he still wishes to protect me from what he believes I cannot stand against. I have lied, and for that, I must pay.

I swallow every ounce of my emotion as Wyetta's faithful men charge towards me, their blades raised. They're already dead in their armor; I can only turn them to dust.

The lightning ball flickers in my right hand and I bend my arm back, angling that pulsing magic towards the ground. Throwing my arm down, the lightning collides with the field and expands around me, thrusting outwards in a circle that draws in the Void Queen's men with a storm's tug. Black clouds rise, and the battlefield disappears.

Those clouds expand and raise to form a dome over my head. I hardly receive the chance to make eye contact through their black armor before I gather lightning in both my palms, streaming the orbs to ink dropped in water. A strong blue light trails from my hands and I twist myself, raising my arms to move with me like silk ribbons. All the while, I charge power into my hands as those blades come closer. Their threat isn't anything close to what I plan to bring.

When my hands come together, another firm orb forms in my grasp. The Luminary within pulses pressure into what I have created. For a moment, that is all I see. The glowing light of my power, the beauty of it. I'm blinded by the pulsing bolts hovering over my open palms, one balanced directly over the other, and I find it hard to believe these hands belong to me.

I control their movements, and when the orb reaches a height that threatens explosion, I throw my hands—along with my arms—straight out at my sides. The lightning obliterates the cloud dome we're trapped in, and like parchment in fire, the soulless soldiers obliterate to ash.

They are already dead, I remind myself. If they get into the city, they kill my family.

Even their flesh doesn't smell as rotten as those that have recently died. The remnants of their life, ash, disappears in the cold wind taking over.

Clouds disperse, and I get my first full look at the battlefield since using my power in the open. Cloak is far enough away that I'm safe to do as I wish, but I'm not completely in the clear. Anyone nearby has noticed that something is amiss. There's a Luminary on the field—an unexpected one. For my enemies, they have a new target. My allies don't realize I am on their side. Everyone within sight stands against me.

The worst of it all—Wyetta Terravale is looking right at me. I sense her attention from our distance away, far enough that I can't see her expression other than the slight turn of her stare towards me, then over my shoulder. To where Cloak continues to fight but loses strength against what he can't control.

I have never been more frightened to see the quirk of a smile play on someone's lips. What she has in mind can't be anything good. I won't be alive to see it.

She shouts an order that carries across the field towards the soulless soldiers that have tugged the trebuchets closer to the wall. I lose her voice in the wind but receive an answer when more flaming stones rush the sky. Stone crumbles, falling to dust. A sickening feeling in my stomach makes the realization that Wyetta may not be here to take the throne but to warn her sister that if the Void loses access to the capital, something it should've done long ago, there will be consequence.

From the bodies littering the field alone, Rivian has lost a large number of its forces. The resources that went into this battle were prepared for years; especially what Setsuko brought to protect a city her mother abandoned. The armor, swords, training—all of it wasted because of the Terravale line.

I can't focus on that now.

I don't care what Wyetta plans to do. Either way, I must stop further enemies from getting into the city. From getting close to my family.

The spot I vacate is a mess of steam and crackling lightning, bits of ash lodged into rock. A cold wind bites through my clothes and numbs my skin the closer I run towards the city, a sharp frost crawling along the outside of my lungs. I have never felt such freedom, yet a presence of death. Living life on the edge has never been for me, but I have long gone past what assassins and thieves do in their free time. My life will end tonight. Theirs won't.

Rivian guards line the entrance to the city. They protect what they can.

Standing in the open plane, I spin left. The ground rumbles, cracking and groaning, but I make no move to separate the security of the surface we walk on. I thrust my hand out, curling my fingertips inward, towards my palm, and the wall of ice rises. This one stands taller than anything I ever created on a frozen pond, even bigger than the stone structure built around Exole. Thicker, taller, and crafted purely of illegal magic.

Even if I can't see my red eyes, I know they're glowing.

Releasing my power is an exhilarating feeling I never thought I would experience. Small exertions of a large force were never enough; this is what my body and mind need to survive another night. Just long enough to protect Exole from further threat.

I swipe my arm to the left, and the ice follows my command. I lock eyes with a Rivian soldier, wounded from battle and limping on a leg that will surely have to be bandaged. His dirt-stained face is unrecognizable, but I am no stranger to widening eyes, a frozen shock expanding over one's features. At the sight of him, Cloak flashes into my skull.

Don't think of him, I warn myself.

Taking my own advice, I build a wall of ice around the impending soulless soldiers, crushing their siege weapons before another stone breaks through the city wall. Half crumbled and in need of repair, the Void won't be coveredany time soon. Not in the next few days or coming weeks. Not without the magic Millicent refuses to use to protect her throne. Not the people cornered into bowing in front of the palace.

Wyetta Terravale disappears behind the wall of ice. Soulless soldiers attempt to punch through the barrier separating them from the city. Nothing is strong enough to break through magic without a bearer on the other side patching them before they can cock their fist to draw back another blow.

A shouting voice shatters my thoughts. The nameless soldier warns the city that we have company. Not that of threat, but aid. If others weren't turning their heads before, they are now.

I raise my palm into the air, facing outward, and push back with the greatest of ease. The wall of ice pushes back and shakes the field underneath my feet, therein by, forcing the enemy back from where they came. I can offer nothing else other than to stall long enough for Rivian soldiers to gain control over the city's borders.

With enough time to assess my position, I turn back towards Cloak. Lyndel opens a door that leads into the city, small enough they'll have to crawl through, and the prince attempts to fight. In that last moment, I'm uncertain if he wishes to watch what I do, or if he would rather run over here and kill me for what I didn't tell him. He is leader of the Panjandrum Corps, after all. Cloak has every right to take the life belonging to him.

Gustus shoves his brother through the small door and Cloak falls to his knees. In a time like this, I don't mind the brute force if it means they're safe. All of them. Even if I have a few choice words for Gustus when I have a rope around my neck and an unsecure board to balance on.

One of Wyetta's men catches my attention, practically blocking off my ability to watch the remnants of Gustus's body crawl through the open space, following his brother, his brother's guard, and his husband. They're safe now. I can take a deep breath long enough to watch the soulless soldier charging at me, wielding an axe larger than his head.

I clench my hand into a fist. The wall pulls out where I command it, encasing that rushing dead man and pushing him back from where he came. All the training I endured with Gustus has paid off; I can command a power I hardly know with ease. By far, the ice is my favorite. Lightning can be unpredictable, moving inanimate objects is a jumpy task if you're not focused, and I haven't even touched what I can do to impact others.

Gustus might be fond of making his husband fall head over heels for him every single night, but I don't wish to force anyone to do anything they don't wish to.

Every soldier that breaks around the wall, I shove back. My hands reach out farther at my sides, extending that wall to the point they can't climb, nor move around it to get to the other side. The shouting souls at my back, Rivian's brave and few men, take care of what I'm too preoccupied to handle. They chip through Wyetta's forces, one after the other, and black armor falls to ash as if they never stood.

To my left, a familiar voice shouts an order. I whirl, and Aela drives her blade through a soldier she had battled for too long, judging by the sweat beading across her hairline. Through my power, I feel the soldier's body slam into the ice wall, his body crumbling against an iron blade. A shiver numbs my left arm, and that section of the wall falters.

I grit my teeth, grinding my jaw.

Aela furrows her brows at the stretch of ice crumbling against her impaled blade. She looks between me, the ice, the fallen soldier, and back to me. Then, she squints. Like Cloak, all color drains from her face and she's left with the realization that I am not who I claim to be. All this time, there was a Luminary on the field, but she hadn't realized it was the one that claimed herself to be an innocent healer. More than anyone, she should've killed me that first day I arrived in the palace but never received the chance.

Her mother showed me mercy. I will be forever grateful for these additional months as Aela's hard frown reminds me of what an executioner would provide to a criminal in their final moments before the guillotine slices off the fraction of life they had left. Her mother will assign the death to her daughter, her personal guard, and a woman that might as well be Rivian's official executioner.

Her sister, Setsuko, comes running from the city walls. She slows upon seeing that ice wall stretching and expanding, the blurred figments of enemies on the other side. I can't sense Wyetta yet, and I hope I never will. Until then, I watch Setsuko's mouth open in search of the right words, only to clamp shut when she realizes she trusted the wrong woman. Everyone should've known; I didn't spend a lick of a day down in the healer workrooms with the rest of the palace staff to further study of medical treatments.

Both princesses are still fighting despite being abandoned by their mother. Evidence of death clings to their armor, and Setsuko's strong scent of smoke and bitter powder wafts into my nose. They're the last two royals on the field; even their brothers have searched for a safe place to hide until this 'blows over', as Lyndel would say. I'll add his name to the list of people that will never forgive me.

Behind the distracted royals, a soulless soldier that had vacated the city charges behind them, raising his blade high in the sky to drop onto Aela's skull. He makes no sounds, no movements that signal his attack. I throw out my left arm towards them, and a spiked wall of ice shoots from my fingertips. The snake-like trail spikes towards the princes and Setsuko arches forward, far enough out of the way that the wall misses her entirely.

Spikes collide with the previously constructed wall. Aela pivots towards the enemy soldier now separated by a cell of ice and back to me. We're not enemies here. And by the look in the princess's eye, she realizes that debt is now owed. If I know her at all, she won't bother to take that into consideration.

Setsuko cups her hands around her mouth, and shouts, "Towards the city!"

I give that ice wall one last glance. It towers over the city and blankets them in more frost than they were prepared for, but the lives I have saved will make up for heavy jackets and spare blankets. I spin on my heel, retreating towards the city fast enough that Setsuko or Aela can't keep up with my ability to leap over bodies without so much as a glance. These men died in vain, and I will cherish their sacrifice until my time is spent. Possibly minutes from now. Mere breaths.

I'm near the open stone archway, flanked by two stone towers that survived Wyetta's damage, when a strong hand clenches around my heart. I freeze, skidding to a halt, and feel the tug that spins me back towards that ice wall. Towards the middle, the ice begins to melt away, brought on by another Luminary's command. A hole opens, and the woman that stands on the other side, from a spot she hasn't vacated from the start, is clearly visible.

Wyetta Terravale raises her chin to me and releases her hold, granting me another breath. I don't know what to make of her contact or my ability to breathe again, but she grants another order that doesn't come to me. Her soldiers retreat towards that open hole in the ice wall. They follow a trail of her magic, moving like the lifeless men they are back towards the Void and their leader. They move past me in a blur. Not one of them stops to take my life, nor grab me to take to Wyetta. I beat her today, and she respects that.

We're safe. Wyetta took down the wall going around the Void, but she didn't get into the city. My family, as far as I know, is safe. Though the archway to the city looks like a mass grave in the beginning stages of preparation, the army of the soulless didn't get far enough to take innocent lives. More than what was on this battlefield, anyway.

I take a deep sigh after not realizing I had been holding one in. I stand in that opening to the city, watching my enemy flee. Soon they'll disappear far enough into the Void that we'll never see them again, never face their icy stare or hard touch.

The remaining Rivian soldiers chase them away and kill those they're close enough to. They spare themselves the final hope of thinning out Wyetta's army for a second attack. We know there will be one, but we don't know when.

I take two steps back, aiming towards the city, and begin the transformation back into my ordinary features. Maybe enough people didn't see, maybe they'll play this off as a mistake that I didn't even know about, and—

The sharp poke of a spear presses into my spine. I raise my arms at my sides, slowly turning to a panting Aela at the other end of the wooden staff.

"You have a meeting with the queen," she growls.

Over her shoulder, Setsuko hangs her head. I don't blame her for not being able to help, even the nameless guards that sided with me moments ago turn their weapons towards me, pointing every sharp tip in my direction so I don't act out of turn. They circle closer and closer with each passing second and respond to Aela's command. As of this moment, she is the highest-ranking member in this city next to her sister.

"Guards, grab her," Aela finalizes.

Iron-clad hands grip onto my shoulders and press me down far enough to the ground that they can lock manacles onto my wrists without trouble. My magic disappears through a cough of smoke out of my mouth, winking away like flame. But my Luminary form remains. Without my magic, I can't shift back.

Guards drag me into the city, far into my doom, and deep enough into the streets that my family won't see the remnants of my final moments.