“I must find my clansmen and ensure they escaped this madness,” Theyen says. He extends his hand. “If you truly believe you can stop this war, then do it. But I can no longer offer my help, either as your friend or as a Kazan Hlau.”

Throat tight, I take his hand and shake firmly. “Thank you, Theyen.”

His bright multicolored eyes linger on our hands for a moment, his expression indecipherable. Then his gaze lifts to mine. “For as brief as it was, I enjoyed your friendship. Goodbye, Sirscha Ashwyn.”

He sets off through the mayhem, his tall figure disappearing behind black smoke billowing from a burning caravan.

Screams ring out behind me. A figure of roiling flame hurtles through the battle, blasting soldiers off their feet. Crackling grass and a streak of black mars the ground in its wake. The fire fuses into a human form with brilliant red armor. A Nuvali sun warrior.

I head in a different direction, where the faint tether connecting me to Saengo leads. Dread sinks its teeth into my heels. Her candle continues to sputter and fail. With the source of the rot gone, why isn’t she getting stronger?

My feet pound over scorched grass. Leaping into the midst of soldiers, I disarm one after another. If they’re lucky, these poor fools will remain unconscious for the remainder of the battle and survive.

Smoke stings my eyes as I reach the ruined sprawl of the Evewynian camp. The fighting is sparse here, the thick of the battle farther west, where teeming bodies scream and stab and fall. But even here, I’m surrounded by the sounds of the dying, the screech of weapons, and the roar of drakes. Magic stirs in the distance as a violent tempest flings soldiers high into the air before sending them crashing to the earth.

At least fighting directly outside the Dead Wood means the shamans won’t have access to their familiars. How long is it supposed to take before the trees wither? By now, the Soulless’s body should be ash and embers. The souls are no longer tethered.

The flash of a captain’s armor catches my eye. I cover my nose as I hurry past two burning tents. Prince Meilek is mounted on a drake, fending off a swordsman. He’s no longer wearing a soldier’s uniform.

His drake snarls, sharp teeth flashing as it snaps around the swordsman’s arm, crushing the bone between its powerful jaws. The swordsman screams, flopping into the grass. Prince Meilek spots me an instant later.

“What are you doing here?” he shouts, riding over. “Did you turn back?”

I shake my head. “I made it to the castle.”

Confusion knits his brow, but he doesn’t question me. “I warned everyone I could, but my sister arrived earlier than expected.” He squints through the melee. “She attacked before everyone could rally their forces. I haven’t seen Ronin yet, though.”