The words burned in her mind like live coals, but she endured them, facing the truth about what she was doing. There was no point in turning away. That would be disrespectful and cowardly, and a clear attempt to repudiate her sister’s decision.
The Chosen fell away, and she moved Arling ahead again, advancing on the skeletal form of the Ellcrys. The sun was cresting the horizon, its brilliant light splashing across the sky, penetrating the shadows and layering the tree in golden streaks. But the effect simply revealed even more of her damage.
When they reached the base of the rise, Arling stopped. “I must go alone from here, Aphen.”
“I can help you a little farther …,” Aphen started to say, but stopped when she felt Arling’s fingers dig into her arm.
“No. You must wait here.” Her sister’s head lifted, and the scarlet orbs of her eyes stared out from her stricken face. “I love you, Aphen. I always will, wherever I am, whatever happens to me.”
Aphen tried to speak and couldn’t. Instead, she wrapped her arms about Arling and held her close.
Her sister was crying now. “I wish we had more time. I wanted so much to be with you in Paranor. To be Druids together, you and I. I wanted nothing more than to be like you.”
“No.” Aphen shook her head, still holding her sister tight. “You were always better than me. Always.”
“Tell Mother, Aphen. Try to be there for her when she finds out. Be kind to her, no matter …”
She trailed off uncertainly. “I will,” Aphen promised.
They held on, unable to let go, unwilling to break the connection. Seconds slipped by, and Aphenglow felt the hurt of what was about to happen so badly it was physically painful. Even without knowing the details, even as uncertain as she was about what she would witness, she could hardly bear it.
“Come see me often?” Arling whispered, making it a question.
“Yes,” Aphen answered, and broke down completely, crying openly.
Arling hugged her once more and then pushed her away. She stumbled up the rise, a frail figure in the growing light of the sunrise, making her uncertain way toward the Ellcrys. Aphen watched helplessly, a part of her screaming that she should go after her sister. But she did as she was told and remained where Arling had left her, watching and waiting.
At the crest of the rise, Arling paused for a moment, staring at the desiccated tree. Then she moved closer, reaching out her hand and touching the blackened trunk. The Ellcrys shivered, more dead leaves falling away, more bark sloughing off. But it seemed to Aphen the tree was responding, recognizing who Arling was and what it meant to have her there.
Arling held her ground for a long moment, then moved close to the Ellcrys and wrapped her arms around her, leaning in.
A second later, the tree disintegrated completely, turning into a fine dust that showered down on Arling until she was completely covered.
Arling stood where she was for another few seconds, becoming a gray ghost, before lifting her arms skyward and uttering a long, mournful cry.
Then she began to change.
On the blood-soaked plains fronting the entrance to the Valley of Rhenn, the brothers Ohmsford stood face-to-face. It was, for Railing, the culmination of everything he had hoped to accomplish since the onset of his long, disappointing search for Grianne Ohmsford, begun all those weeks ago. Finding and returning his brother had been the driving force behind his efforts, and he had never stopped believing—even in his darkest, most despairing moments—that he would make that happen. But to have it come to pass so abruptly, with no warning whatsoever, was shocking.
His brother managed a crooked grin. “Thought you’d seen the last of me, didn’t you?”
Even given the cacophony rising from the Jarka Ruus as they celebrated their new leader’s victory, Redden’s words were clear. The sound of his voice broke the spell that had frozen Railing in place, and he flung his arms about his brother, hugging him so hard he had to let go almost immediately and step back for fear he might be injuring him. For Redden Ohmsford was but a shadow of his former self, with haunted eyes and a troubled look on his face. His face and arms were battered and bruised, his body was emaciated, and he was hunched over as if bearing an unseen weight. The strength he had exhibited when they had parted was gone entirely, and what remained was a poorly sketched representation.
Railing kept his hands on his brother’s shoulders, refusing to break contact. “I thought I would be the one to find you.”
Redden looked down, tears in his eyes. “I couldn’t wait any longer for that to happen. So here I am.”
He had flown with Oriantha and Tesla Dart from Arborlon to the Valley of Rhenn, Redden explained, arriving just as the battle between the Straken Lord and the witch wraith was reaching its conclusion. Still at the controls of the transport, he was trying to decide where to land when he caught sight of the combatants and the dragon where they occupied the open ground between the Jarka Ruus and the Elves. An instant later he noticed two figures standing close by and recognized his brother and Mirai. With no hesitation at all, even when Oriantha began screaming in his ear to turn around, he piloted his ancient vessel over the cliffs warding the entrance to the pass and down onto the flats. Neither Railing nor Mirai had noticed him land, their eyes directed toward the epic struggle between the demon and the wraith.
He was on the ground and out of the pilot box before the diapason crystals had cooled. He caught a glimpse of Tesla Dart’s horrified face and Oriantha’s cat-like leap over the ship’s side as she came in pursuit while he raced across the trampled ground to reach his brother, but he never slowed.
“I found them, Railing,” he shouted now over the din of the demonkind’s wild, mindless cries, suddenly remembering. “I found the missing Elfstones!”
Railing stared. “How did you manage that? How did you even get back here? I thought you were trapped inside the Forbidding!”
Redden glanced over his shoulder as Oriantha came pounding up behind him, her face a mask of fury. “How could you be so stupid? There’s an entire army right in front of you! Are you trying to kill yourself? Get out of here!”
“Look!” Redden persisted, ignoring her, motioning her closer. “She has them. Oriantha does. Except for one set. Show the Stones to Railing.”
But the shape-shifter’s hands were empty. “I gave them to Tesla Dart to hold while I came after you.” She pointed over his shoulder. “And forget what I just said about getting out of here. It’s too late to run.”
They looked toward the Jarka Ruus. The witch wraith was approaching. The crystalline white frost that had covered her earlier was gone, and she was once again a slight figure dressed in ragged gray and bent against the morning light as if it hurt to be exposed to it. She showed no interest in what was left of the Straken Lord as she passed his remains, and no concern for the dragon crouched at her back.
Instead, her eyes were on Railing and his brother.
“Get behind me,” Railing told Mirai and gently eased her back.
“What’s this about?” Redden asked, stepping up to take her place.
Railing didn’t know where to start. “I tried to bring back Grianne Ohmsford to help us against the Straken Lord. But she returned like this, and now she’s killed him and has taken his place as leader of the Jarka Ruus.”
Redden looked confused, as if he was hearing the words but not understanding their meaning. Railing had already turned away to face the witch. There was no time for anything now but finding a way to send her back to where she had come from, and he hadn’t the faintest idea how to do that.
“You’ve found your brother without my help!” the witch wraith called out to him, slowing while still twenty feet away. Her body seemed to shift and change inside her robes, as if she were not entirely solid.
“You have to go back,” Railing replied. “You have to return to Mother Tanequil. I will go with you.”