Aleira Brightleaf's Arc

Chapter 15 of 18

Aleira pulled back from the breach. The robed figures were closing fast across the wastes. Behind her, the throne chamber shuddered. She turned and saw the true danger. The floor had cracked wide. Lava glowed up through the gap, spreading under the throne. Her ancestral throne, black and carved with elven vines, tilted toward the growing pit. "The floor's going," she said. "Get to the wall." Morwenna scrambled back on her hands. Her skull staff was dead in her grip, no green fire left. "It'll take the throne. It'll take us. Both. We fall or we cook." She pointed a shaking finger. "I told you. A tower would be my grave." Aleira lunged for the throne. She grabbed one arm of it and pulled. It was too heavy. The floor sagged more. A slab dropped away and hit the lava with a hiss. She braced her feet and heaved again. Her boots slid on the hot stone. "Hazel! Help me pull!" Hazel stumbled over, wand still in her fist. Leaves shook loose from her hair. She grabbed the other arm of the throne. Together they dragged it a hand's width. Then a crack split the floor between them and the wall. The throne lurched. It slipped from their hands and slid backward into the pit. Aleira dove. She caught nothing. The throne tipped over the edge and dropped into the lava below. The molten rock swallowed it. The carved wood flared, blackened, and sank. In seconds it was gone. Only bright orange fire remained where her bloodline's seat had been. Aleira knelt at the edge, staring down. Heat pushed at her face. The thing she had crossed the wastes to reclaim was ash now, folded into the lava. "It's gone," Hazel said softly. "I'm sorry. I couldn't hold it." Aleira did not answer at first. She watched the last glow where the throne had been. Then she stood. "A throne is wood and stone," she said. "The right to sit on it is mine. That didn't melt." Her voice was steady, but her hands were not. "I'll build another. Above ground. Where it belongs." Morwenna crept to the breach and looked out. Her white eyes went wide. "They're almost here. The necromancers. Coming for me. For all of us." She hugged her dead staff. "No throne to guard now. Nothing to stay for." That stopped Aleira. Morwenna was right. She had guarded this chamber for the throne. The throne was gone. There was no reason to hold the tower anymore. She looked at the jagged hole in the wall. Cool air moved through it. Beyond lay the open wastes and the robed figures crossing them. "Then we don't stay," Aleira said. "We run. Out the breach, before they reach it." She pulled Hazel up by the arm and reached for Morwenna. "Move. Now." The three of them climbed through the hole into the burning wastes, leaving the empty tower behind them.