Let the Storm Break (Sky Fall #2)(81)

He pulls Solana closer, and I can’t tell who’s more surprised, her or me. Her skin turns paler than her dress.

“Raiden will be here,” Os explains. “And his primary strategy is always to deprive us of the one thing we need to fight back. He ruins the wind to leave us defenseless, and we’re going to let him believe that he’s succeeded. We’ll use our spikes to take out as much of his force as we can, but at the opportune moment, I’m going to surrender. Let him taste his victory so he’ll swoop in to gloat. And that’s when Solana will release the winds she’s been storing—giving us an entire arsenal we can use to hit Raiden with everything we have.”

The rest of the Gales murmur their agreement—and I’m forced to admit that it’s a much more clever plan than I’d originally thought. But it worries me that it completely neglects the Westerlies. Unless he has orders for Vane and me that he hasn’t explained. Or maybe he just expects us to—

A loud, mournful howl radiates through the valley, followed by another, and another.

Each cry grows louder and more desperate, until my eyes are watering and my jaw is clenched so tightly my teeth start to ache.

“What is that?” Gus shouts, covering his ears.

I do the same, but it barely muffles the next howl, and I feel a tremble ripple through my Westerly shield as it tightens its grip around me.

“It’s the sound the wind makes when it’s ruined,” I tell Gus. “The final cry before the best parts of the draft crumble away.”

“Is it always this loud?” he asks, and I shake my head.

These must be bigger winds somehow, or maybe a combination of drafts, like a cyclone or . . .

I suck in a breath as I grab Gus’s arm. “I think he’s breaking the Living Storms.”

Gus’s eyes widen. “Can he do that?”

“I have no idea.”

But another unearthly howl rages through the valley and I know I’m right. What I don’t know is why.

Why ruin his own creation?

What power is he drawing from their pain?

I turn toward Os, watching him as he struggles to keep the other guardians calm.

His agonized expression tells me he recognizes the sound too—though there’s something besides pain in his eyes. Something that makes me far colder than the icy air whipping around us.

Hunger.

Os is fighting it—his whole body shaking with the effort. But the craving is still there. Boiling below the surface.

I pull Gus close enough to whisper in his ear—though it’s more of a shout with all the noise and chaos. “Keep an eye on Os. This sound is like a drug for him.”

Gus follows my gaze and nods. He presses his lips against my ear to shout back, “We need to find Vane.”

“No you don’t,” Vane says behind me, and when I spin around he’s appeared almost magically.

For about half a second I’m relieved. Then I notice how pale he is.

“What’s wrong?” Gus and I both ask at the same time.

He’s shaking so hard I have to hold him steady.

Vane pulls away, wobbling toward the circle of nervous Gales until he finds Os in the center.

“I called the Westerlies from the mountains,” he says, his voice hollow. Weak. “I wanted to hear their songs, see if they could tell me what we were up against.”

“And?” Os prompts when he doesn’t finish.

Vane turns away, staring at the ever-darkening sky. “They said the Storms are too strong this time. There’s nothing we can do to stop them.”





CHAPTER 37


VANE

I

nnocent people are going to die because of me.

If I’d moved to some base in the middle of nowhere, maybe I could’ve kept everyone safe. But I wanted to stay with my family. I wanted to act like my life hadn’t changed just because I found out I was a sylph.

And now everyone in this valley is going to pay the price.

The desert grows dim as the clouds finally block the sun, making everything as dark and cold and bleak as I feel.

Raiden’s going to win.

“Did the Westerlies say anything else?” Audra asks, shaking my arm and forcing me to stay focused.

“They sang about monsters and a rage that tainted the sky. I begged them to tell me what to do, and that’s when their song turned hopeless. It was like that moment in Death Valley when I asked the shield to cover us as we ran. I could feel that the drafts wanted to help. But they just kept repeating ‘too strong’ and whispering about giants that can’t be defeated. There’s nothing they can do.”

“But it isn’t just up to the Westerlies,” Gus says after a few seconds of silence. “I thought ultimate power came from the power of four.”

He holds out his wind spike like it somehow proves everything. But he doesn’t understand how it works.

“Every time I’ve used the power of four, it was always because the Westerlies told me what to do, how to weave them with the other drafts to create the effect I need. And this time they’re telling me they can’t help.”

“So where does that leave us?” Gus asks, turning to Os.

“I could turn myself in,” I offer, but even as I say it I know it wouldn’t matter. Raiden doesn’t want a quiet surrender. He wants to make us an example.