SOREN
The last thing I saw was the end of the world. It was Eris, framed by a halo of white-gold destruction, her silhouette a jagged shadow against the blinding fire of her own rage.
She was surrounded by the high, screeching silhouettes of the Syvrak, but she looked more terrifying than any of them. I watched her, my vision blurring with a thick, syrupy heat, and my last conscious thought was a jagged shard of failure.
I'm sorry. Eris, I'm so sorry.
The regret was a physical weight, heavier than the ice-spike that had pierced my ribs. Then the darkness took me, pulling me down into a deep, silent trench where the sound of the battle became a dull, distant hum. I heard a voice, my mother's voice, calling a name I hadn't used in a lifetime.
"Ivanya."
It was gentle. It was distant. And then, there was nothing at all.
When my eyes opened, I didn't see the smoke-choked sky of the capital or the crumbling marble of the palace. I saw light.
