Dawn of Ash (Imdalind, #6)(83)

I had lived this. But what was more, when I had seen this the first time, it had been different. It had been a different wall, a different battle. There had been no golden ribbons, no seeping wound.

Sain had chastised us, ripped his daughter apart, because she had broken the sight. However, what I was looking at now was exactly what had happened.

“This is truth,” the child said again, her voice boring into me as I stared, my mind numb as the truth was made clear to me.

My heart beat in a painful heaviness as the sight continued to unfold, the images broken as the prophecy cut through my focus. The words that had been Sain’s now blended with that of the child who had haunted the white space, the chimes of her voice a haunting melody.

“You will love her,” they said together, “but you cannot have her. You will protect her, but you will fail.”



I cringed as the voice of Sain and the woman blended in and out with those of the Drak, rising and falling as the anxiety built. My muscles uncoiled in fear of what I was about to see: the image of Joclyn’s death, the heartbreak that had haunted me for hundreds of years.

“This is truth,” the child spoke over the prophecy of the Drak, her voice loud in my ears. “This is the end.”

I thought I had been scared before, thought I had been ready for what was coming, but not anymore.

With those few words, a dread I had never experienced gripped me, the deep monotone of Sain’s voice increasing the fear.

“The one bred to die.”



It wasn’t me who was screaming. It wasn’t me who was mourning. It wasn’t her body in my arms. It wasn’t.

Not anymore.

Joclyn screamed in panic and pain as Ryland lifted her over his shoulder, his face streaming with tears as he walked away from something I could not see. Ovailia’s laugh reverberated in my head as the cave formed around the scene, the broken rocks shifting as everything fell, as everything broke apart.

Underneath it all, I lay, spread out over the rocks, blood seeping from my body like a river, a crimson stain spreading over the grey stone I lay on.

The grey stone I had died on.

“What?” I heard my voice breaking in the sight, the echo of past having a whole different meaning, given what I was now looking at, given the horrors of a future I now faced.

I could feel the voices of the Drak run over me, could feel the sight come to an end, but I couldn’t look away from the image of my death.

I couldn’t look away from the blood.

Pain I didn’t fully understand drenched me in a force that sent a crippling ache over my chest. The ache grew as the vision faded away, leaving me gasping in the void, my hands clenching my hair.

“This is sight.” The haunting sounds of the child’s voice moved around the white void I had returned to.

“No!” I screamed, the volume of my voice reverberating with pressurized power. “No!”

“You have been born for something different than you assumed.”

“What do you mean? What is this?” I yelled into the nothingness, spinning in place as I tried to find the owner. My magic stretched away from me in an attempt to find Joclyn. Nothing was there. Even though I had the distinct impression Joclyn was close, I still could not see her. I could not see anyone who could be speaking to me.

As before, it was empty.

“Everything you have been told is a lie. I have shown you truth.”

My chest tightened painfully as she spoke, the dread and fear running through me, keeping a tight grip on my heart.

“Your life, your death, how you die, how you live, why you have the magic you do—”

“I won’t accept this!”

“It was all a lie.” The voice was a hiss now, and I could barely focus through the dread, through the anxiety that had taken control.

“No!” I yelled, my anger truly out of control now. “I won’t let it be.”

“Why do you say that?” the voice came again.

I spun toward it, coming face-to-face with a child this time. A little girl with bright blue eyes and dark curls down to her waist stood before me as if she had always been there, her head cocked to the side, as if I was the most interesting thing she had ever seen.

“You will die,” she said, her voice light and calm, more reminiscent of how someone discussed food than the death of a loved one.

Eyes wide as I fumed, I attempted to control my anger, but I already knew it was a lost cause.

“Then I will die,” I fumed, staring at the little girl with more anger than a child her age should ever see. “But I will not accept that I was born for something other than to protect the one I love.”

“Is that all?” the girl said with a smile, her curls bobbing as she took a step closer to me. “You will protect her, Ilyan Krul—of that, the sight is clear. But you will fail, and nothing can be done to change that. It is your choice if you continue to stand by her, if you continue on the path of what is true, or if you choose to find your own.”

“Find my own path?” I gasped, not understanding what she meant. I had seen my death. There was no other option.

“There is always another choice in this life. There is always a chance to fix what was broken,” she said with a smile, her nose wrinkling familiarly. “Will you choose to protect her?”

“I will.” The words came without hesitation, the strong presence of her magic within me seeming to warm at the simple declaration, my heart beating right alongside. “I love her. I love her more than I have any other, and that love … I will fight for her no matter what comes our way. I will stand by her, no matter what demons she faces, for she is of my heart, and I am of hers. I will protect her until my blood spills over those rocks as I take my last breath, and I will treasure every moment I have with her. No matter what comes.” I spoke to the child as I would to an enemy, my voice heavy and deep as my heart opened up, as I spilled out every emotion and desire and fear. As I let this tiny child see me.