THE LAST KING OF EMBERWYLD : THE DYING LIGHT
Chapter 10: The Cutting
The blade struck the door.
And the world screamed.
Not a sound—not anything that could be heard with ears. A scream that tore through Kaelen’s bones, through his blood, through his soul. A scream that came from the door, from the wound, from the darkness beyond.
The Duskblade blazed.
Not with light—with hunger. It drank the darkness, pulled it in, consumed it. The symbols on the door flickered, dimmed, died. The stone cracked. The wound widened.
And then the door fought back.
Darkness erupted from the wound.
Not the passive darkness of the void. A living darkness. A thinking darkness. A darkness that wanted to kill him.
It slammed into Kaelen’s chest, throwing him backward. He hit the stone floor hard, the breath driven from his lungs, the Duskblade flying from his hand. The blade clattered across the ground, its glow flickering, its hunger screaming.
The woman in white ran to him.
“Get up,” she said. “You have to get up.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. You must.”
She pulled him to his feet.
The darkness was coalescing, taking shape, becoming something Kaelen could almost recognize. A face. A body. A figure.
The first king.
But not as he had been in life. As he had become in death. A thing of shadow and hunger and rage.
You dare, the figure said. Its voice was not a voice. It was the absence of voice. The silence between heartbeats. The emptiness between stars.
“I dare,” Kaelen said.
You are nothing. A fisherman’s son. A failed soldier. A broken man.
“I am the last of the old blood. The last of the magic. The last hope.”
There is no hope. There is only hunger. Only darkness. Only the door.
“Then let me close it.”
Kaelen ran for the Duskblade.
The darkness lunged.
It caught him mid-stride, wrapping around his legs, his arms, his throat. He fell again, the cold seeping into his skin, into his lungs, into his heart.
You cannot win, the figure said. The door has stood for a thousand years. It will stand for a thousand more. You are nothing.
Kaelen reached for the blade.
His fingers were inches away.
The darkness tightened.
He couldn’t breathe.
Give up, the figure whispered. Give in. Become part of the door. Part of the nightmare. Part of me.
Kaelen thought of Lyra.
Of his father.
Of the children with hollow eyes.
Of his mother, standing in the garden of lilies.
Of the woman in white, who had waited a thousand years for someone to finish what she started.
He reached.
His fingers touched the hilt.
The blade blazed.
Not with hunger—with something else. Something Kaelen had never felt before. Something that felt like hope.
He pulled the blade to him.
The darkness screamed.
He raised the blade above his head.
The figure lunged.
Kaelen swung.
The blade cut through the darkness like a knife through flesh.
The figure dissolved.
The shadows scattered.
The door cracked.
And Kaelen kept swinging.
He cut at the door. At the wound. At the symbols. At the stone. He cut until his arms burned, until his lungs ached, until his vision blurred.
The door groaned.
The darkness shrieked.
And then—
Silence.
The door was gone.
Not closed. Not sealed. Gone.
The stone had crumbled. The symbols had faded. The wound had healed.
In its place was a wall.
Solid. Unbroken. Ordinary.
The darkness was gone too. The shadows had retreated, dissolving into nothing, leaving behind clean stone and clear air and the faint echo of a scream that was fading into memory.
Kaelen fell to his knees.
The Duskblade slipped from his hand.
He was shaking.
He was crying.
He was alive.
The woman in white knelt beside him.
She was different now. Her white dress was gone, replaced by a simple shift of gray wool. Her dark hair was pulled back in a braid. Her eyes were brown—warm, human, kind.
She looked like his mother.
She looked like hope.
“You did it,” she said.
“We did it.”
“No. You. I just watched.”
“You showed me the way.”
“You walked it.”
Kaelen looked at the wall.
At the place where the door had been.
“Is it over?”
The woman was silent for a long moment.
“For now,” she said. “The door is closed. The nightmares are sleeping. The world will heal.”
“But?”
She looked at him.
Her brown eyes were sad.
“But the door was not destroyed. It was sealed. Sealed with your blood and your will and your soul. It will hold for a lifetime. Maybe longer. But eventually, it will weaken. And someone else will have to do what you did.”
Kaelen’s heart sank.
“So it never ends.”
“It never ends. But it can be postponed. And every postponement is a victory. Every day the door stays closed is a gift. Every child who grows up without the Blight is a miracle.”
Kaelen looked at his hands.
They were shaking.
“What happens now?”
The woman stood.
She offered him her hand.
“Now you go home. Now you live. Now you remember.”
“Remember what?”
She pulled him to his feet.
“That you are strong. That you are brave. That you are enough.”
“I don’t feel strong.”
“Strength is not a feeling. It is a choice. And you have chosen it, again and again, from the moment you stepped onto this path.”
Kaelen looked at the Duskblade.
It was dark now. Quiet. Its hunger satisfied.
“What about the blade?”
“The blade is part of you now. It will always be part of you. Its hunger is your hunger. Its purpose is your purpose.”
“What do I do with it?”
She smiled.
“Keep it. Guard it. Use it if you need to. But do not let it use you.”
The cavern began to fade.
The walls crumbled. The floor cracked. The darkness dissolved.
“Wait,” Kaelen said. “I don’t even know your name.”
The woman looked at him.
Her brown eyes were bright.
“Elena,” she said. “My name was Elena. And I was the first. The first to try. The first to fail. The first to hope.”
“You didn’t fail. You waited. You watched. You helped me succeed.”
“I helped you find your own strength. That is not the same as succeeding.”
“It’s the same to me.”
She reached out and touched his face.
“Go, Kaelen. Go home. Live your life. Love your people. Be happy.”
“Will I ever see you again?”
She smiled.
It was a sad smile, small and tired and full of love.
“Every time you close your eyes,” she said. “Every time you dream. Every time you face the darkness and refuse to give in. I’ll be there. Watching. Waiting. Hoping.”
She stepped back.
The darkness swallowed her.
And she was gone.
Kaelen stood alone in the empty cavern.
The wall was behind him.
The Duskblade was at his hip.
The key was cold in his pocket.
He turned and walked toward the light.
The journey back was faster than the journey there.
The shadows did not follow. The cold did not bite. The road seemed shorter, the mountains lower, the sky brighter.
He walked for days. Weeks. He did not count.
He thought about Elena. About his mother. About his father. About all the people who had sacrificed themselves to keep the door closed.
He thought about Lyra.
About the village.
About the children with hollow eyes.
He walked.
And finally, after what felt like a lifetime, he saw it.
Dusk Hollow.
His home.
The village was different.
The fields were greener. The houses were brighter. The people were smiling.
Lyra was waiting at the edge of the road.
She ran to him.
She threw her arms around him.
“You came back,” she whispered.
“I promised I would.”
“The Blight is fading. The crops are growing. The children are getting better.”
“I know.”
“How did you do it?”
Kaelen looked at the sky.
At the sun.
At the light.
“I closed the door,” he said. “For now. For a lifetime. Maybe longer.”
“And then?”
He took her hand.
“And then we live. We love. We hope. And when the door weakens, we find another way.”
Lyra looked at him.
Her eyes were wet.
“I’m proud of you,” she said.
“I’m proud of us.”
They walked into the village together.
The people gathered around them, asking questions, offering thanks, touching Kaelen’s hands as if he were something sacred.
He was not sacred.
He was just a man.
A man who had done what needed to be done.
A man who would do it again.
A man who would never stop fighting.
Because that was what the old blood did.
It endured.
END OF BOOK ONE: THE DYING LIGHT
Epilogue: The First Dawn
The sun rose over Dusk Hollow.
Not the pale, sickly sun of the Blighted years. A real sun. Golden and warm, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange and gold.
Kaelen stood at the edge of the cliffs, looking out at the Iron Sea.
The water was blue.
Blue for the first time in a hundred years.
He smiled.
The Duskblade was at his hip.
The key was in his pocket.
The memories were in his heart.
He was ready.
For whatever came next.