It was cold, so cold inside his mind, where he sat atop the rubble of his castle once more. He moved the final stones aside and clawed at the frozen ground, digging a hole large enough for that kernel of his power to fit. He dropped it inside the small hole as he gasped for air. Blood fell upon it, staining the ground around that tiny bit of power.

The kernel soaked it up.

And then it began to grow.

And as it grew, Valen felt his power returning to him. A final push as his mind tried to hang on to life, even while his body was already gone, his last breaths wheezing from his lungs.

“I release you,” he whispered to no one.

But he saw, little by little, the stones begin to quake.

Each one of them, a mind in Mirabel stuck beneath his compulsion no longer.

With a smile, Valen lay back on the cold ground to sleep.

Peace, he thought, as he closed his eyes and let himself slip away. At long last.

CHAPTER 42

ANDI

The blade was wet with Valen’s blood.

The soldiers began to surge toward her, but as Valen took his last, weak breath, they suddenly stopped.

As one, the entire group collapsed, their bodies and weapons hitting the satellite’s metallic floor with thunk after thunk. Nor fell, too, in a graceless heap beside Valen’s pod.

And then the satellite was silent.

The only sound was Darai as he opened his eyes and stumbled forward, watching the scene play out before him. “What have you done?” he breathed.

He glanced at Valen’s body, the red gash across his throat signifying that he was, indeed, gone.

His eyes were wild as he looked back at Andi. “You fool!” he snarled. “You’re going to—”

“Enough, Darai.”

Andi turned to see Klaren standing over her shoulder, still in that armor, alive and well. She smiled and reached out to take the knife from Andi’s hand, fingertips closing over the handle, still warm with her son’s blood. “You’re growing old, Darai. It’s time you rested. Don’t you agree?”

He sputtered to form words, but they never left his lips.

Because Klaren swung, that wet blade arcing through the air as she slammed it into the side of his neck.

His blood was golden as the sun.

Darai gasped for air, clawing at the blade, but his hands trembled as that golden lifeblood left him. Slowly, the rage in his eyes dulled, and then his body fell to the ground, unmoving.

Klaren stared at him for a moment, then deliberately stepped across his back, his bones crunching beneath the weight of her armor. As if to ensure that he was, in fact, dead.

“You did well,” she said to Andi. “I wasn’t sure that you would be able to stomach the sacrifice, but... I’m impressed.”