She threw herself atop him, guarding him with her power.
No. If he was hurt, if he was—
He made a sound of irritation below her, as if annoyed that she was scrambling to feel for his heartbeat.
She buried her face in his fur, relief cold through her blood. Shadows had eaten through part of his armor. If he hadn’t been wearing it, that would have been his skin.
They could have killed him.
Rage shot through her veins—energy filled her limbs. Oro’s voice was in her head, telling her to calm down. Telling her that being emotional would make her lose control.
She tried to breathe through the anger, but it only intensified, until her power was so saturated, she could feel it like a weight in her chest.
Before she could stop herself, her hand struck the ground before her, and the island shattered. Its terrain rippled, swallowing any Nightshade in its path, until they were buried beneath rock. More of them rushed forward, and she almost smiled, something wicked uncurling inside her chest.
They called their shadows?
She called her own.
They streamed from her fingers, and she gathered them up just like she had in her training with Remlar.
“Get down,” she told Lynx, and he ducked just as she turned her stream of shadows into a scythe that cut all the Nightshades around her down.
She was panting. She had used too much power too quickly.
But all the enemies around her were dead now.
More were joining them.
Skylings shot powerful gusts from above, forcing Nightshades toward the center. Sunlings created walls of flames. Grim’s army was slowly being boxed in, Lightlark’s legion advancing from all sides.
Now, she thought, grabbing her starstick from its place along her spine. “I’ll be right back,” she told Lynx, who bowed his head, before she portaled to Sky Isle, where her own legion was waiting.
“It’s time?” Singrid asked as soon as he saw her, grinning, clearly eager to join the battle. The Vinderland stood ready behind him, hundreds of warriors clattering their weapons together. Nearby, Remlar watched with curiosity, along with his people and the other night creatures she had recruited.
Their plan was simple. Oro’s armies would surround the Nightshade forces. Trap them. Keep moving them to the center of their battlefield. Then, Isla would portal the second wave of warriors right into the middle, so Grim’s forces would be enclosed in all directions.
“It’s time.”
Isla drew her puddle of stars as large as she could make it. And, with all her remaining strength, she kept it open as the hundreds of soldiers rushed in. She was the last to fall inside.
Battle cries pierced the air. Nightshades were now being smothered. Sunlings, Skylings, Vinderland, and night creatures all fought side by side.
Isla marveled at them. Enemies, united.
She was lifted off her feet by Lynx, who threw her onto his back without stopping. She gripped his saddle and joined the fighting.
The Nightshades didn’t stand a chance. They were almost easily overpowering them.
Then a woman came from the sea, on the back of a swell that dwarfed even the Singing Mountains.
The water crashed across the Mainland, and soldiers were covered, then frozen where they stood. They couldn’t move their legs. Lynx only avoided the ice by jumping at the last moment. His paws cracked as they landed on the frozen ground.
Suddenly, Cleo was right in front of her. She wasn’t wearing a dress. No, now she wore a fighting suit that covered every inch of her body except for her hands and face. It was white, with dark-blue detailing. She frowned at Isla and Lynx. “What a pleasant . . . pet,” she said, tilting her head. “You’re on the wrong side, though, Wildling. You said you wanted your realm to live, didn’t you?”
It wasn’t lost on her that Cleo hadn’t killed the Lightlark soldiers. She could have frozen them solid, but she didn’t. There was still a chance she would change sides.
Isla understood her now more than ever: A woman who had dedicated her entire life to leading her realm. Who had allowed herself one happiness. Who had lost it.
“Why are you doing this?” Isla asked.
“For him,” she said. Her son.
“I don’t understand.”
Cleo reached down into her collar and pulled out the necklace she wore. The blue stone shimmered. “The other world has power we can’t begin to fathom. Souls can rise once more.”
She understood now. Cleo believed there was a chance to see her son again.
“I can’t let you use the portal,” she said.
Cleo frowned. “I hoped you would see reason,” she said. “We really do need you.”
The Moonling raised her arms, and the ocean rushed to wrap around her body, curling, alive, forming her shape. She rose into the air, on a swirl of sea.
She shot her watery hand out, and her arm became a rope of water that sent Isla flying back, right off Lynx. Her leopard roared. Before she cracked her head against Cleo’s ice, a bed of flowers bloomed behind her, bursting through the frost, breaking her fall.
Cleo laughed, the sound muted and distorted by the water surrounding her. “Flowers won’t help you.”
Isla slowly rose. She took a step, and the ice broke. Flowers sprouted in her wake. Vines formed down her arms, long thorns growing against her knuckles.
She had been watching the Moonling fight. She used her hands. She needed them to wield water.
It was impossible to grip Cleo’s wrists in her water-covered form. Isla’s restraints would slip right off the sea.
Cleo was too busy staring Isla down to notice that Enya had become a living flame behind her. An understanding passed between Isla and the Sunling.
Isla charged. Cleo watched her, water swirling, towering.
So did Enya. She jumped, wings made of flames uncurling from her back and wrapping around the Moonling ruler.
Cleo was quick—she sent Enya backward with a thick stream of sea. But, for just a moment, Cleo’s water shield had melted, weakened by the flames.
It was all Isla needed. Roots flew up from the ground and tied around the Moonling’s wrists in seconds. They trapped her legs next. One wrapped around her neck for good measure. Flowers bloomed on the restraints. Isla plucked one.
“The flowers helped,” she said.
Isla didn’t see any more Moonlings. Cleo had a legion. Was she saving them for after Grim’s own army was finished?
Part of her feared that Wildlings might fight alongside Nightshade . . . but her people were nowhere to be found.
Isla wondered if that was better or worse.
She was back on Lynx in a moment, hurtling through the battle. Hope bloomed once more. Much of the Nightshades were dead.
They had a chance, Isla thought. It looked like they could win.
Until a crack sounded through the world, and dreks filled the sky. There were hundreds of them. So many, they looked like nighttime sky ripped to flying shreds.
They were everywhere. Skylings fought back, with their metal-tipped arrows, and some of the creatures were shot down, but they were quickly replaced.
A flash like a bolt of lightning shot above her—someone was twirling a special metal-tipped sword and traveling so quickly, they went through one of the dreks. The creature died instantly and fell, crushing a group of Nightshades.
Zed.
He really was that fast.
Isla breathed in and out, trying to focus her energy to the sky. She had one of the metal-tipped blades in her belt. With a shot of power, she might be able to take one of the beasts out. Just as she was about to try, a drek dipped low, and she was knocked off Lynx with the force of its wings. She hit the ground, and the air was stolen from her lungs.