As Caelen and I stare in the mirror, our reflections fade, replaced by a hazy fog. Images flash by so quickly, I can barely register them. A silver dragon releases a stream of fire over Eryadon’s castle and Fredrik’s guards.
I’m transported to a field of battle. The armies of men, elves, wolves, and dwarves rage around me. Axes and swords clash in great devastation and blood.
The images shift and blur. I fall back and Caelen cries out. He gathers me in his arms, brushing the hair back from my face as my vision goes black.
I blink and the world returns. My heart hammers in my chest as my panicked breath comes in short, clipped pants. The dark memory of my death fills my mind as I stare transfixed at the bare earthen floor. “I will die,” I whisper to myself in shock.
Caelen flings the mirror across the room. It slams against the wall, exploding into shards of glass that rain down upon the floor. He growls and spins to the goblin. “What dark sorcery is this? I will kill you where you stand. You said it would show me how to save her.”
My eyes snap up to find the witch’s full of fear as Caelen looms over her, seething with anger. “I—I never said—”
He raises his hand before her, curling his fingers as if gripping something. My jaw drops as Glenda’s body jerks up, her feet hovering over the earthen floor, kicking wildly as she grasps at her throat, held by the invisible force of Caelen’s power.
Now, I understand why Father forbade Caelen’s people to use magic in Eryadon. How they have not already conquered the known world with this power is beyond my understanding. Although she is a goblin, I cannot let him kill her. “Caelen, stop!”
He straightens, dropping his hand to his side as the witch also drops to the floor.
She clutches at her throat, coughing and spluttering. “The mirror shows you the future,” she wheezes. “There must be a way to save her. Surely, you saw something that—”
“What was the price of your magic?” His eyes burn with anger. “Tell me the price of the bargain you made with the queen!”
“She would bear two children, but they would both die before they came to the throne.”
He stills, rage rolling off his shoulders in heated waves. He curls his hands into fists at his sides and a blast of wind explodes through the cottage, flinging the door open and blasting out the windows as he roars his anger to the sky.
The witch cowers before him, trembling.
“Caelen, stop!”
“Do not go near her, Lyana, she—”
“She didn’t have to tell us anything, Caelen, but she did,” I snap. I turn to the witch. “My younger sister died with my mother during childbirth. Her and my brother did not live to ascend to the throne.”
Glenda shakes her head. “Your younger sister was not conceived as a result of the bargain. You and your brother were the ones born of magic.”
“Tell me what is in those images, in the mirror, that can save my mate,” Caelen demands.
“Your mate’s death is the price of a bargain forged by magic, but there is always an out to any bargain. You know this, High Elf Prince. Or has it been so long that your people have forgotten the ancient ways? Study the mirror. Decipher the clues. You were fated to each other for this reason, Prince Caelen. You are the one who can save her life.”
Still enraged, Caelen lunges for the witch, but she disappears in the blink of an eye.
An angry roar rips from his throat before he rushes to the broken mirror and picks up the largest shard. “Mirror, mirror in my hand,” he murmurs.
I stare transfixed as he peers at the mirror, his mouth open and eyes wide as he studies whatever it is showing him. When he pulls back, he runs a hand roughly through his hair. “You must be present at the battle,” he mutters, more to himself than to me.
“What do you mean?”
“I asked the mirror to show me the future based on the choice to keep you from battle,” he replies, not looking away. “But it is a decision that cannot be changed. You must be there.”
Caelen speaks the enchanted words again and my jaw drops as I watch him staring into the mirror. This is what the witch meant about people going mad.
I move to his side, placing my hand on his forearm. “Caelen, stop.”
“Just a few more,” he mutters, still not looking away from whatever he is seeing.
“Caelen!” His head snaps up, his eyes refocusing as they meet mine. My mouth dries as I notice dark lines beneath his eyes that were not there a moment ago. I cup his face gently. “Stop, please.”
His eyes search mine and he strokes my cheek. “You do not understand. I have to do this now. While I am strong. Each use drains my magic. And each time I can feel it take that much longer to recover.”
I reach for the shard, but Caelen pulls it away from my grasp. “Give it to me,” I demand.
When he hesitates, I sigh. “I’ll put it in my bag. We can consult it later. But not now.”
His brow furrows and I gesture to the outside. “The storm has passed. We have to keep moving. We have to get to Solwyck.”
“Fine.” He casts an icy glare throughout the cottage. “Let us leave this cursed place.”
As soon as we step through the gate, he turns and raises his arms, slashing them through the air. Magic arcs from his fingers and races toward the already crumbling structure, razing it to the ground.
