Everything before him swam in a haze. He vaguely heard someone calling his name. A woman. It was a voice he knew. A voice he loved.
But another face haunted his mind. His daughter. Farah. Her ringlets dropping to her shoulders. The sweet smile that brightened his day. Her caring heart.
Farah was with Elinor. Another enemy. One far more dangerous to his daughter than the one in front of him. But Jarrett was dangerous to Tressa.
Another choice. Once, he’d chosen his daughter over his wife. Today, he chose both Farah and Tressa.
With the last of his strength, Bastian sprang off his knees, lunging toward Jarrett. His hand grabbed his sword, and with one mighty swing, Bastian ran the blade through Jarrett’s stomach.
He turned, looking at Tressa. Her hands covered her mouth. His eyelids closed, Farah’s face the only thing he could see.
Bastian’s neck snapped, his head lolling to the side.
Farah would be safe now. Safe forever.
***
Elinor lay on the ground, her legs twitching and her hand around her throat. Her breath choking, trapped.
“Hang on,” Hazel pleaded. “Farah, get one of the healers. Hurry!”
Hazel’s hand rested on Elinor’s forehead. But it would do no good. Elinor knew. Bastian was dying. So would she.
Elinor’s eyelashes fluttered in the damp air. Fog swirled around the edges of the village. It was beautiful in its simplicity. She would miss it. She’d had such high hopes for a life with Bastian.
No longer. He was gone. She could feel it. Elinor let out one last breath, following Bastian into death.
Chapter Forty-Five
“Bastian!” Tressa ran to the side of the man she’d loved most of her life, taking his limp body in her arms. “How could you?” she yelled at Jarrett. Her head suddenly felt clear, as if she’d awoken from a deep, dark nightmare.
The man before her wasn’t the man she’d loved. No, Jarrett was gone, replaced by a monster.
Jarrett stood, unsteady, with his hands on the hilt of the sword. Taking a deep breath, he pulled the sword out of his stomach and tossed it to the side. Blood gushed from the gaping hole. Jarrett placed one hand over the wound, and he lifted the other hand toward the sky, shooting more fireballs at the dragons. The flow of blood ebbed, and Jarrett dropped his hand from his gut. The wound had healed.
Tressa cradled Bastian’s body, struggling against the foul magic coming from Jarrett. Fire rained around her. The smell of burnt flesh, both human and dragon, permeated the air. She heaved to the side, her stomach unable to handle the destruction.
She wiped the back of her hand over her mouth and looked up at the sky. The Red realized they'd been ambushed. They were fighting back with everything they had, and were met by the Black and Green with equal fervor. For the first time in the war, the Red were outnumbered. The Green’s armor also allowed her allies to endure longer. Far fewer of the Black and Green fell from the sky. There was a chance Tressa's side would actually win.
And all she could do was stand on the ground and watch. Bastian was dead. Jarrett beyond her reach. And her dragon side wouldn’t make an appearance.
Her eyes were pulled back to Jarrett. His body contorted, jerking from side to side, while his arms waved in the air, sending up a barrage of flame toward the dragons. His scarlet eyes glanced at her as his lips curled into a smirk. "I will kill them all. Every dragon will die at my hands. Thank you for bringing them to me."
None of the dragons in the sky were paying any attention to where Jarrett's shots were fired. They were too busy fighting for their lives. He used the chaos to his advantage, taking down any dragon with a vulnerability.
"Stop!" Tressa laid Bastian carefully on the ground, stood, and tugged at Jarrett’s arms, but he shook her off as if she were only a pesky fly. Tears stung at the corners of her eyes.
He was too strong, overflowing with a power she didn’t understand. Her eyes were drawn to the sky again, as dragons fought with talons and teeth. Fire burned the clouds and death rained blood.
Jarrett didn’t spare another glance at Tressa. He’d determined she was no longer a threat. Tressa stood next to Bastian, watching Jarrett maim dragon after dragon, drawing no distinction between friend and foe. He wasn’t the man she fell in love with. Not anymore.
Tressa knew she’d spent too much time protecting people who only betrayed her. Fenn, her father, who’d joined the Red and tried to turn her to his side. Bastian, as he drowned his sorrows between any offered pair of breasts. Granna, who’d drugged Tressa for years, keeping her from conceiving and concealing the truth about the very blood flowing within her veins.
No more. She would not let them win. Anger bubbled in her chest. Fire popped and burned in her stomach. Her skin ripped. It was coming. The dragon.