Shana was smiling as she emerged with her friends and Yuryo from Yuryo’s dream, back into Dreamworld.
Her smile vanished instantly.
Buffeted by vicious winds, she staggered back a step, throwing up a hand to keep dust out of her eyes. “What…” she started, trailing off as her gaze was drawn skyward.
The storm over the Palette in the Clouds still raged, unabated by Yuryo’s change of heart. And standing all around Shana and her friends, gazing up at the sky in shared horror, were Yuryo and her followers.
“But this…” Yuryo murmured, shaking her head. “This can’t…” And then she looked away from the storm, her eyes on Shana. “It’s become self-sustaining. Hasn’t it?”
It wasn’t Shana, but Heart, who answered. “It has,” she said. “Your fears may have left you, but they live on in this storm. It has gained a life of its own. I… do not know if we can stop it.”
“You can’t say that!” Shana and Kathryn both said at once. “There has to be a way,” Shana continued. “That’s my role as the Dreamer, to cast out fears, to end the Nightmares. Why wouldn’t we be able to stop this?”
“Your power is to assuage the fears within the heart of the fearful,” Heart said. “And you have done that. This…” she gazed up at the storm, “is something that should not be. The fears of so many, shared fears of such strength, created this storm. Those fears have now been removed from those who held them. But the storm born of the fear remains, too powerful to simply dissipate.”
“So there’s no fear for me to get rid of?” Shana asked. “It’s… beyond my control?”
“Beyond any of our control,” Yuryo said. “It’s a force of nature now, and with enough time it will destroy this sanctuary. We… can’t allow that to happen.” She fixed a determined gaze on Shana. “Some dreams are meant to be woken to. We need only keep the people safe, correct? You and your sisters will lead us out of this.”
“That’s it,” Rae said. “We don’t have to defeat the storm. We just have to escape it. When we turn the Key of the World, it’s supposed to help send all of these people back to the Waking World, right?”
Shana nodded. “Right. Okay. Then that’s what we’ll do. We have to get everyone to safety, and then —”
“Leave that part to us,” Yuryo said. She turned to her followers and raised her voice above the gale. “Rally together! We need to find everyone in the city and take them to the Artisan’s house! That will be the safest place from this storm. We’ll wait it out there.”
“Let’s go!” one of her followers called, and the others got to work right away, racing off across cloudy streets. They knocked on doors, helped those in the streets who were struggling against the vicious winds. The word went round as fast as it could be spread.
“They’re on it,” Kathryn said, taking Shana’s hand. “Let’s go turn the Key.”
“But what about Delilah and Fae?” Ben asked. “We have to turn it in sync with them, right? Only… we can’t hear them anymore.”
“If we can’t talk to them…” Shana started, bowing her head.
Just then, a crackling of static sounded in her earpiece, the comm unit she’d almost forgotten existed. She flinched, reaching up to remove the sputtering device, until —
“Caleb? Fae? Shana? Shias? Delilah? Do you read me? Am I coming in clearly, or —”
Her mother’s voice.
“Mom?” came Fae’s voice.
“Mom!” Shana cried out, tears stinging her eyes.
“Mom, I hear you loud and clear!” said Delilah.
“I hear you, Mom,” said Caleb. “And everyone else.”
Shana waited a beat. When she didn’t hear Shias’ voice, she nearly panicked. But she could feel through Altair that her twin was still fighting.
He needed to keep his focus on that. And Shana needed to trust that he’d pull through.
“Shias is out of contact, but he’s okay,” Shana said.
“Shias is…” Deirdre started, trailing off. “I see. All right, everyone.” She asked for status reports, and Caleb started first. Things were insanely grim there, the fight against Sal taking a turn for the worst.
“And I’m sure your sisters aren’t ready to turn the Key?” Deirdre asked.
“Not yet,” Fae said.
“We’re close!” Shana said. As close as possible, and she hoped that Fae and Delilah would be close soon.
“We… still have to find the Pedestal,” Delilah said. “But we must be close. As soon as we get some breathing room, we’ll find it, I’m sure!”
They hadn’t even found the Pedestal. Shana’s heart sank. How long did she have against this storm? How long did Caleb and Chelsea have, fighting all alone against Sal?
“Shana?” Deirdre asked, after Caleb and Chelsea had settled on their plan of action. “How are you holding up? I heard some background noise over there.”
“We’re… in trouble,” Shana said. “There’s a storm over the Palette in the Clouds, a storm we can’t stop, and the longer it rages, the closer it gets to destroying this entire city, and everyone in it. There’s… nothing I can do. Not until we turn the Key.”
“All right,” Deirdre said, anchoring Shana with her calm collectedness. “Delilah? How are you holding up?”
She and Delilah talked, while Shana tried to figure out something, anything she could do. After her great triumph with Yuryo, leading her through the light and out of that dream…
Was this it? Was there nothing she could do but wait?
Soon it was Fae’s turn to give a status report. “We’re all good here, Mom,” Fae said, and Shana could hear a smile in her voice. More than that, there was a tremendous confidence, something she’d never heard from her older sister. “We’ve got a plan and we’re seeing it through. We’ll keep you posted on when we’re ready to turn our Key.”
“Try to be quick,” Shana said, flinching against a sudden wild gust. “Not sure how much longer we can hold out, here.”
“You got it,” Fae said.
And that was it. Shana had to just wait. And hope that the others could get ready in time.
“Shana,” Annabelle said, tugging on Shana’s hand. She looked down at the little princess, who gazed up at her with those big blue eyes, calm and steady in the midst of the storm. “We can still do what we can.”
Shana stared at her for a moment, not understanding. Until…
“We… can help,” Shana said, looking around at Yuryo and her followers helping direct everyone to the Artisan’s house. “We can make sure everyone’s safe. As safe as they can get, anyway. We can buy them time.”
“And that’ll be enough,” Kathryn said. Not even a raging storm could dampen her cheer. “Come on! This is what the Dawn Riders are for, right? Let’s save everyone!”
She started off at a run, and Ben followed right after her. Rae waited with Shana, Annabelle, and Heart.
“Okay,” Shana said, nodding. “Right! Save everyone… that’s what we’re all about.” She smiled at Annabelle. “Thanks. Let’s go!”
Together they ran, doing their best against the storm. There was no time to wait helplessly for their time to come. It wasn’t time to turn the Key, not yet. But the Dawn Riders’ time was right here, right now. In the midst of the storm, with people in trouble…
It was time to save everyone.
——
Chelsea and Caleb, hand in hand, fought with all they had against Sal. Fire and chains blasted forth, battering and burning, snaring and devouring the Lord of Night.
And he emerged unscathed.
With a contemptuous wave of his hand, Darkness lanced forth. Every single scything tendril was aimed for Caleb.
Chelsea blasted them away, blew them apart, and turned a fiery salvo on Sal. For now, at least, the combatants kept to their respective edges of the ring, as much space as possible between them, content to assail each other from afar.
“Afar.” Chelsea almost laughed. As if there was that much space separating them. Twenty feet, maybe the size of a boxing ring, was hardly a large enough arena for mages of such staggering power. Even Caleb had come so far. He was always focused on trapping and containment, not sheer, all-out offense. Destructive power wasn’t his forte, but he’d still become incredibly strong.
They all had. All the journeys that had brought them so far had molded them. Through all the darkness, all the pain and fear…
Somehow, Caleb, Chelsea, Fae, Shana, Shias, and Delilah had all come through it stronger than they’d ever been.
And now that strength was being put to its greatest test. And for Chelsea and Caleb, the most straightforward and unfair test of all.
The two of them against the Lord of Night. Just a straight-up fight, no frills, no manipulations, no trying to find a key or a pedestal, no trying to save people from their own fears, none of that.
Just a fight.
Chelsea almost smiled. This was the perfect test for her. And she had her favorite teammate right by her side.
And when this was over…
Chelsea did smile, then.
We’re getting through this. All of us, together, alive.
Caleb and I are getting married. We’re adopting Addie.
We’re all going home together.
So get out of our way, Sal! We’ve come way too far, made too many promises, to let you stand in the way of our happiness.
As if on cue, Sal staggered, clutching his head with one hand. Chelsea blasted him with fire but, predictably, he was left unscathed.
Valgwyn all over again. Just remember that you did eventually burn him. You’ll do the same to Sal. Or the girls will turn the Key of the World, but…
Chelsea couldn’t help it. She wanted to leave at least one mark on Sal, to prove herself one last time against the most powerful enemy they had.
“Cease your childish ramblings,” Sal muttered, gritting his teeth. He was practically clawing at his head, as if to rip out Alexander, the other half of his heart who had returned to him after so long.
“You know the truth of them.” Chelsea was startled for a moment. Because Sal’s mouth moved, but the voice was that of a child. “Stop fighting me, please. We don’t have to —”
“Enough!” Sal roared, sweeping his hands wide. Darkness exploded around him, then swirled away, and he took a step forward. He brushed off his shoulders, and then assumed his usual confident poise. “I apologize for that. Now… where were we?”
“Happily letting you stall for more time?” Caleb asked with a disarming smile.
Sal chuckled.
And launched his next onslaught.
There was little time now for strategy, for finesse, for cleverness. Sal attempted to drown the entire Time Prison in Darkness, and Chelsea and Caleb refused to allow that. All was Darkness raging against lights emerald and brilliant white, against fire and chains brought forth with desperate intensity. Chelsea gritted her teeth, planted her feet, clutched Caleb’s hand tight, and gave it everything she had. Explosions rocked her back on her heels, and the heat from her flames nearly scorched her skin. The battle was a stalemate, power against power, neither side giving way.
But when Sal suddenly halted his assault, it was clear how this battle would go, given enough time. Chelsea and Caleb were sweating, fighting to hide just how hard they were breathing, struggling to keep up with Sal’s power and speed.
While Sal wasn’t even winded.
This is him wounded? With his seat of power shattered? With another personality inside of him fighting to keep him from doing evil?
After everything we’ve done to weaken him, to give us the best chance possible, he’s still so overwhelming.
And yet Chelsea wasn’t frightened. Frayed a bit, sure, tired, yeah. But she wasn’t afraid. There was a fire burning in her veins, a fierce heat and light that kept her spirits up, that kept her believing, no matter how dark the night seemed.
Sal flicked a finger, and Caleb and Chelsea both leapt back with what little space they still had between themselves and the perimeter wall of the Time Prison. Hunter instincts saved them — saved Caleb — as a spike of Darkness erupted from the ground, narrowly missing Caleb’s face.
But…
Caleb’s face wasn’t its target.
As the spike shot up, its pointed end morphed into a hook, and that hook came just close enough to Caleb’s face to claim its prize. In one swift motion, it snatched up Caleb’s glasses and ripped them away. Caleb shut his eyes. Chelsea reached for the flying glasses.
But they ended up in Sal’s hands. And he smirked, created a tiny window of Darkness, and tossed the glasses inside. The window snapped shut.
Caleb’s glasses were gone.
“This will only get worse for you,” Sal said. “Drop these walls, and —”
Chelsea blasted him full in the mouth with an exploding missile of fire. When it cleared, and the unscathed Sal opened his mouth to speak again, she blasted him in the mouth all over again.
When the flames cleared this time, Sal had a steely glint in his eyes. And he didn’t try to talk.
The fight was back on.
Darkness raged, and Chelsea’s flames raged against it. All the while, she held Caleb tight, kept him close. He couldn’t see, but she was determined that that wouldn’t hurt their chances here.
She could be his eyes.
And after a few moments of relentless back-and-forth, Caleb rejoined the fight. He brought forth chains and Mobility discs, his memory of the space serving him well, able to picture it in his mind, hopes lifted by Chelsea’s firm grip on him.
The wild onslaught halted, and Chelsea blasted Sal a few times before letting up herself. She sucked in a breath, fighting against the sensations that told her she was nearing the edge of her limits. She felt cold, then suddenly a wave of heat washed over her, and the next second she was frigid again, nearly shivering. And she was struggling to get enough air. Oxygen and temperature regulation — when those started to become challenging for her, she knew she was near the end of her rope.
But Sal didn’t look so hot, either. He was clutching his head again, bent over, grimacing and muttering to himself. He lurched, arching his back, mouth open wide in a silent scream. Then he stood up straight, gasped in a breath, and smiled. “Well. That was unbecoming of me,” he said. “I’m sorry you had to see that. Now, then — let’s finish this.”
Let’s finish this.
The words Deirdre had spoken to them in encouragement. Now the threat coming from Sal’s lips.
Which way was this fight going to go? How was this going to end?
Chelsea didn’t have any doubt. Not in Delilah, or Shana, or Fae.
And she certainly didn’t have any doubt in herself and Caleb.
“Yes,” Chelsea said, raising her lighter. “Let’s.”
——
The floor came up at Shias suddenly. He caught himself, just barely, but…
No, wait. I fell. The floor didn’t move. I…
He raised his pen Talisman, and a series of shields held off a vicious barrage of slashes and thrusts from Sen.
I’m running out of steam. Dizziness, light-headedness, vertigo, those are all my usual symptoms for failing reserves. I have to end this fight, and soon. Somehow.
Now… how do I go about doing that?
He pushed himself to his feet, smiling at a helpful nudge from Altair. Sen flickered with sudden, blinding speed, but Shias was still onto him, still ready for him. Three shields, phasing into existence just long enough to deflect the strikes that came, then vanishing. It was a technique Shias had perfected quite young, realizing how helpful brief, phasing shields would be for efficiently optimizing his stamina. He’d never been particularly robust, physically. They may be twins, but he had nowhere near Shana’s constant energy. He walked a lot, but he didn’t move around like Shana did, didn’t push his body the way she did just by going about her day in her wild, exuberant way.
Training, ever since the Share House with Maribelle and the rest of the team, had helped tremendously. But Shias still had his limits.
Don’t we all?
Sen turned, twisting in a complex series of feints and strikes. Shias read them all, keeping the peerless swordsman at bay — and finally seeing Sen’s back, and the wound his father had inflicted.
Dad… you really did a number on him. Scorched right through his armor. He puts on a strong façade, but he’s not as strong as he was when he attacked Grimoire, is he? He hasn’t fully recovered, and he won’t ever recover from the wound you gave him.
And with that in mind, I have no excuse if I fail here. I may be alone against him, but I’m carried by the efforts of everyone who’s fought before me.
Dad, and everyone else in Grimoire — you started this fight.
It’s my job to finish it.
A Mirror Wall blasted Sen back with light, and Shias spared a glance at the bed where his sister and the other Dawn Riders slept. Still in Dreamworld, still preparing to turn the Key. Fighting their own battle, and waiting for the others to finish theirs.
Sen didn’t immediately return to the fight, which drew Shias’ attention back to him. Cautious, watching him, preparing for his next move.
“Time is against us all, isn’t it, child?” Sen asked. “And you have proven a more formidable defender than any I have faced before.” He saluted Shias with his sword, and Shias almost felt an urge to return the gesture. “One final play, then, shall we? Let us bet it all on this last gambit.”
Shias shifted his stance. Beside him, Altair amped up his Support Magic aura to the best he could manage, a warm, buoying burst that would last through one final exchange.
He’s not one for tricks. He’s all straightforward speed and strength, but…
You haven’t seen everything he can do. One last gambit… just like Grandpa says. “Desperation can be the most dangerous weapon of all.”
So he readied himself for the ultimate attack that was to come. The right move, the right counter, the right choice would bring an end to this fight, here and now.
Shana… I won’t fail you.
Sen blurred, and then…
There were three of him.
The three Sens shot forward at blinding speed, swords trailing an afterimage of living Darkness. Shias leapt to the side, making his choice in the bare instant he had to make it…
They weren’t all real. Only one was real. And even that one was coming on with more speed, power, and fury than he’d shown before now. So Shias’ guess was crucial, but…
It wasn’t a guess.
He could feel it. As if someone had whispered in his ear, had told him exactly which one of the three was the real Sen, he knew.
Actually stopping Sen, however, was up to him.
It all happened in an instant. Shias, still in the air, mid-dive, found Sen bearing down on him. Shias, with no floor to anchor him, was all that now stood between Sen and Shana.
Sen’s sword flashed, a perfectly-angled, viciously powered slash that would tear through any shield Shias could bring forth. Split-second analysis, or something even faster, was all that could save Shias now.
That, and well-honed instincts.
He’d been through this before. The only one between Shana and death, the only one between Shana and a Son of Night.
Protecting her with his magic, and with his own body.
Twelve shields sprang into being. Sen’s sword shattered through one, but that dampened its power, lessened its speed, by the merest fraction of a percent. And that was enough. The dark blade ricocheted off the next shield, into another shield and off of that one to the next, weaving through a complex pattern of Shias’ own design.
A complex pattern that brought Sen’s sword carving a path directly towards Shias’ face. Shias, still in midair, didn’t have any chance to dodge. He had to trust that his own desperate, last gambit had worked.
Sen’s sword came down, bit into flesh, brought intense, fiery pain to Shias’ cheek, across his cheek to the bridge of his nose, and then…
Continued off into empty space. To another shield, and off of that one to another, and finally…
Into the last shield. A shield that caught Sen’s sword and didn’t deflect but instead redirected the remaining power and inertia back on the dark blade.
Sen’s sword cracked, split, and then shattered in a startling explosion that sent Shias tumbling across the floor until he crashed into the side of the bed. Sen also went flying, in the opposite direction, all the way to the far wall, slamming into it hard enough to crack the stone.
Both fighters lay where they were for many long, dazed seconds.
Shias was the first to stir, to twitch, to find feeling and movement again. His face burned with pain, and blood trickled down to his lips, stinging his tongue with its strange taste. But nothing was severed, nothing was broken.
Although…
There was something new. Pain, fiery pain like on his face, flared in his right arm, the arm in which he clutched his Talisman. He looked down, and a wave of nausea swept over him.
A shard of Sen’s sword had embedded itself into his upper arm, poking out the other side. He couldn’t lift that arm, but even worse, the slightest movement of his hand, even a twitch of his fingers on the hand that clutched his Talisman, sent a lance of pain through him so sharp that it made him grit his teeth over a scream, and he dropped again, laying bloodied and biting back tears on the floor.
He watched Sen on the opposite side of the room. And he saw the Son of Night slowly push himself up, until he was sitting against the wall.
But he didn’t stand.
It took a few moments for Shias to realize, for dazed, blurred vision to clear, and see that Sen had received worse than Shias. Three massive shards of Sen’s own sword had run him through, three separate spots on his chest on stomach, three separate wounds that rent through armor like it was paper.
Sen coughed, black blood splattering the floor at his feet. “Well… played, boy,” he rasped. His hands scraped against the floor uselessly. “But perhaps… perhaps I… still have… one last…”
And then, to Shias’ horror, Sen did start to rise. Feet slid against the floor, three desperate attempts before they found traction. Slowly, with rasping breaths and coughs of blood, Sen stood, shaking as he held himself up against the wall.
He fixed a dark, fiery gaze on Shias. No, not Shias.
Above him.
Shana!
With a shaking, shuddering hand, Sen grasped one of the long metal shards that was thrust through his heart. With a jaw-clenched groan of pain, he yanked the shard from him. He paused a moment, gasping, blood pooling at his feet.
And then he started to lift his arm. Preparing to throw.
No!
But where Shias couldn’t cry out, Altair did. A sharp bark, and then another. The first, defiant and angry at Sen. And the second, urgent and commanding.
To Shias.
Yeah, I hear you. I can’t get up, but…
I can still fight.
Sen’s arm shot forward. But just before his fingers loosed the deadly missile…
Shias called upon his magic, one last time.
A Mirror Wall burst into being, bright and blinding beams of brilliance blasting against Sen. He cried out, dropping the shard, his throw incomplete. His weakened body failed against the light, and he shuddered, shook, and then went still.
His body fell apart, dissolving to ash that coated the ground.
As he faded away, he lifted one hand to his forehead, his eyes fixed on Shias. An acknowledgment, one warrior to another.
And then Sen was gone. Shias remained.
The fight was over.
Shias dropped his pen, gasping as he fell back against the bottom of the bed. Altair came to him, licking his face, cleaning away the blood as well as he could.
“Thanks, buddy,” Shias said in a soft, whispering voice. “Now… we just trust the others.”
Delilah, Fae…
Shana…
Finish this.
——
Another vicious round of fighting ended with Sal pausing to recover himself, while Chelsea and Caleb…
Well. They were in much worse shape than their foe. Both were gasping, panting, soaked with sweat, hands shaking, only still standing, still fighting, because they held each other up.
One more exchange. That’s… probably all we can take.
Chelsea gave Caleb’s hand a squeeze. It was now or never. Not for them.
For Delilah, Shana, and Fae.
Come on, girls… finish this.
Sal raised his hand, and Chelsea braced herself, ready to fire back with everything she had.
But then, a bell tolled.
Sal’s eyebrows lifted at that distant, hollow peal. It tolled again, a long, haunting note.
And Sal smiled.
“Time, I’m afraid, is up for you,” he said. He spread his hands wide, not launching an attack. And then, with a graceful flourish, he bowed. “The time has come. I have won. Behold the Endless Night.”
The bell tolled again, and Chelsea’s heart caught in her throat as all around them, Darkness began to bubble up from every surface. Oozing through the walls of the Time Prison, it had them surrounded. She launched a blast of fire, but this Darkness sucked it in, swallowed it, and kept growing.
“Chelsea?” Caleb asked, gripping her hand tighter. “What’s he mean? What’s happening?”
Chelsea pulled Caleb to her, holding him in a one-armed embrace. She tried one more blast of flame, this time directed at Sal. But a wall of Darkness rose up, swallowed it, and then came towards her.
Chelsea wrapped her other arm around Caleb, and he hugged her back.
“We’ve done all we can,” she murmured, closing her eyes. “It’s up to the girls, now.”
——
Sitting up by the hospital window in Grimoire, Callum was awake. Still very much the worse for wear, but he was, at least, awake. And with the best doctors, nurses, and Healers looking after him and everyone else who’d been hit too hard by Sen’s attack on Grimoire, he knew he’d come along.
He wasn’t thinking much about his own condition, though. The best painkillers in the world helped, but also…
They’re all out there, fighting for their lives. Fighting for our lives.
Caleb, Fae, Shana, Shias, Delilah… stay safe.
And win.
Deirdre, watch over them. And help them win where I can’t.
He wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t nervous. After all those kids had been through, and with all the incredible people they had on their side? There was nothing they couldn’t do. Nothing could stop them from saving the day. If anything, he was just disappointed that he couldn’t be there, fighting the final fight right beside them.
Just as a smile was creasing his lips, Callum noticed a murmuring out in the hall. He turned to look, and realized a great deal of doctors, nurses, and even patients were gathered in the room across the hall. No flurry of activity. They were just standing there, gathered by the window, watching something.
A sense of dread shot through Callum. He thought about wheeling himself over that way, to see for himself, but he still wasn’t strong enough or well enough to do that much. So he looked back out his own window, and when he did…
His blood turned to ice.
Through the golden boughs of Yggdrasil, he had a great view of The Gate at the edge of Grimson Bay, and the horizon beyond.
And that horizon had grown horrifically dark. Not only that…
The darkness was spreading. Rolling in like a tide, like a wave that reached up to the heavens. Its silent, inexorable approach only made its reality all the more terrible.
Looking left, and right, as far as he could from his window, Callum saw the same scene coming from all directions.
Darkness, descending like a wave, like a flood. All-consuming Darkness, to swallow them all.
He gripped the armrests of his wheelchair tight, and braced himself. It was all he could do. There was no fight left for him, not today.
It’s up to them, now.
Delilah…
Don’t let us down.
The Darkness rolled in, swallowing up his beloved city. And then it reached him.
In an instant, he was lost in the Darkness.
Lost in the Night.
——
At a window looking out over Sunset Square, Deirdre hugged Addie tight as they watched something no one had ever believed would happen.
Sunset Square’s eternal, golden, sunset sky…
Was going dark.
In rolled the Night like a flood, like a tidal wave that reached up to the stars, consuming all light, all life, in its path.
“Is this the end?” Addie asked in a frightened whisper. She trembled in Deirdre’s arms, and Deirdre hugged her tighter.
“Delilah’s reached the Pedestal,” Deirdre said. “The girls are turning the Key. We have to trust that that’s enough.”
Addie turned her face away from the coming wave, clinging tightly to Deirdre. The wave of Night washed over Alexandra’s mansion…
And Deirdre, Addie, and everyone else inside, along with the rest of Sunset Square, were swallowed up. Lost, alone, in the Endless Night.
——
“It’s time,” Delilah said. “Turn the Key!”
Fae, Olivia, and Sonya, in the Chamber of the Key in the Hall of Reflections, reached out, and turned the Key of the World.
Shana and her Dawn Riders, in the Chamber of the Key at the Palette in the Clouds, reached out, and turned the Key of the World.
And Delilah and Alice, deep within the Fallen Bastion, turned the Key of the World.
In that moment, she could feel her sisters with her. As if she was standing in all three places at once, turning all three Keys at once, she felt it, just for a moment.
The Key of the World turned in its Pedestal, and…
Delilah gasped. A shock rushed through her body, and it was all she could do to keep hold of the Key, to not collapse. She felt Fae and Shana fall, unable to keep standing.
What’s happening?
Delilah looked up. The Key in its Pedestal was gleaming white. But as it suddenly burst with beautiful light…
A bell tolled. Haunting, hollow, it rang out once, twice, three times. And though the Key of the World shone valiantly…
Darkness came flooding into the chamber. It roared up the stage on which the Pedestal stood, rained down from the ceiling, bubbled up directly beneath Delilah’s feet.
She held tight to the Key, and held tight to Alice. She opened her mouth to speak…
But too late. The Darkness rose up, fell down, rolled in, and the flood carried her, and her unspoken words, into the Night.
All across the Enchanted Dominion, and beyond, Darkness consumed everything. From Grimoire to Sunset Square, from the Starlight Spires to the Silver Star Sanctuary, Darkness consumed it all. At the Hall of Reflections, Fae, Sonya, and Olivia were swallowed up by the flood. Below the Palette in the Clouds, the storm suddenly went quiet, just as Darkness flooded in, swallowing up Shana and her Dawn Riders.
Shias and Altair, lying next to the bed where Shana slept, watched as the flood came in. Altair stood protectively between Shias and the flood, barking defiantly.
But when the floodwaters reached him, the brave little pup was swallowed up. A moment later, Shias followed him.
All across the universe, the lights went out. Darkness consumed all light, all life.
The Endless Night had come.