As they entered Kingsmount, Jarrett hoped that he was ready to die. They had planned and plotted, but their mission was a deathwish all the same. At least he had been reunited with his daughter once more, though their relationship was lukewarm at best. His long-lost wife, well—if he perished now, she would have to explain herself to him in the Nextworld.

Morgane had died for the Vanguard, for the cause. Jarrett could do worse than follow in her footsteps. If Riordan finally fell, the sacrifices she and many more of the Vanguard made would be worth it.

This plan had two prongs, both dangerous. Jarrett was on the distraction crew, along with about twenty Vanguard troops. Their job was to let the infiltration crew get the best possible chance to sneak into the mage’s prison and form the weapon. If all went well, they’d join them for the conclusive battle against Riordan.

Scarlet was in the infiltration crew. She had to be—she was a mage. Jarrett wished he could protect her, but Ange needed as many mages as possible. They needed at least one mage in his own crew, and unfortunately the only one who could be spared was Leandra. He wished it could be anyone else, except perhaps Fae, but Leandra wasn’t as spry as the younger mages, and couldn’t move quickly enough to keep up with the infiltration team.

They had left their wagons and horses at an inn near the outer gates of the city. The infiltration crew were now waiting near the castle for an opening. Jayden was to take them around back to one of the service entrances.

Jarrett and friends would be making a bit more of a grand appearance. They were disguised as Saridi soldiers, repurposing what tabards they could salvage from the initial onslaught at Rosewood. That battle seemed long ago. Morgane’s death. Discovering the vault, the weapons. Time had so quickly catapulted forward to this moment. This was truly the final battle, victory or failure awaited them.

Riordan’s resplendent castle sat in the center of the city. Darkness was falling, so they weren’t seeing it in its full glory—but Jarrett had seen it in the daylight once before, when he was a child. His father brought him to Kingsmount, Jarrett couldn’t remember what errand they had been on that day. His father had been a blacksmith, perhaps he’d needed new equipment that he couldn’t source in one of the closer, smaller towns.

The castle made an impression on him back then, as it did now. In the sun, the spires glittered, a spectacle that didn’t reflect the oppression that the god sowed throughout his country. In the darkness, they loomed forebodingly over the Vanguardians, spikes to impale them all.

The group approached the extensive gardens that surrounded the castle. They were groomed meticulously, not a branch nor vine out of place, everything neatly ordered. It was utterly unnatural, and completely reflected Riordan’s attitudes. Plants as well as people could not be trusted on their own. They were to be guided. Tamed. Controlled.

Leandra’s voice broke him from his brooding. “You doing alright?”

“You know I’m not.”

Leandra shook her head. “It takes energy to pry, if that’s what you’re accusing me of doing. I’m not always spying on your feelings, you know.”

Just sometimes. What a relief that was. Regardless, he doubted anyone needed magic to read his thoughts right now. “Do you think we’ll make it out of this?”

“To be honest, it seems unlikely. But then again, I did not think you would be reunited with your family. You’ve already found your daughter. Maybe, with luck, today you’ll rescue your wife.”

Jarrett’s stomach churned. What would it feel like, to be victorious today? He hadn’t let himself so much as imagine it. They didn’t even know if Kiera was here.

Now approaching the castle, they were a conspicuous lot. Even disguised as soldiers, their large group stood out from the guards that were patrolling the grounds individually or in pairs.

A pair of guards moved to intercept their group, but Leandra didn’t give them the chance to question them. Her blast of magic made the approaching soldiers stumble back, and two Vanguardian archers finished them off with well-aimed arrows. A more distant guard yelled out a warning.

Quickly, the gardens were watered with blood as the Vanguardians slaughtered the guards. The soldiers were too disorganized, these lower level garden mooks unprepared for a brazen frontal assault such as this.

Before long, they were at the castle doors. This moment, I’ve wanted it for so long. We’re really here, at Riordan’s doorstep. They had to push as deep into the castle as they could, and Leandra had to use as much magic as possible to have the best chance at luring Riordan to come deal with them personally. They had to pose enough of a threat that the god would worry his soldiers couldn’t deal with them.

The guards at the door neatly dispatched, Leandra blasted the door open, splintering the reinforced wood into pieces.

“More magic, Leandra,” Jarrett called to her as they entered the castle. Drawing Riordan to them was vital to buy the mages more time.

Leandra obliged by summoning a swarm of light orbs, illuminating the hall as they charged in. Her lights were a ghostly blue, adding color to Riordan’s bleak home. Everything was gray and sharp, the marble floors shined to perfection. Soon, we’ll soak it in blood.

They rushed into the grand hall. A massive chandelier hung in the center of the room, composed of wrought iron. Its decorative metal tendrils were barbed. Smaller versions of the brutal fixture were placed around the hall, above long tables as well as copious space for dancing and frolicking—as if such a thing were ever to happen in the Tyrant’s castle. A different type of dance would take place here tonight.

Saridi soldiers rushed in from various entrances to surround the smaller Vanguardian crew. There were too many of them. They were armed and armored, more soldiers than would be reasonable for an average day in the castle. They had been prepared for an attack.

If the whole of the castle was on guard, would the infiltration team would come across trouble? Scarlet. How could he live with himself if this insane plan got his daughter killed? But if I want to live, I need to focus on my own battle.

The forces clashed, Riordan’s soldiers funneling the Vanguard in between two of the long tables, trapping them. Jarrett hacked away at each soldier that confronted him. The confined space was both a blessing and a curse. The soldiers couldn’t easily come at them from every direction, but they were also being crushed into close quarters, unable to fight to their full capacity.

Leandra took notice of this, and directed a blast of energy at one of the tables. It flew several yards, taking some of the surrounding soldiers with it. She climbed onto the remaining flanking table and began to level wide blasts of energy at the soldiers to keep them at bay as the Vanguardian fighters dealt with as many as they could.

Jarrett lost himself in adrenaline and anger. His sense of time melted away, replaced by sweat and blood and the exchange of blows. He fought with a vigor he hadn’t felt since he was a younger man. Each strike he landed was for his family, for the pain of years lost, for the hope of a future with them. Each soldier he struck down bore Riordan’s face, the cause of all this pain.

He didn’t see the sword coming down at him until it was too late. A soldier had rushed at him from the side, and Jarrett was caught flat-footed against the deadly blow.

Suddenly, Leandra was in front of him, and the soldier's weapon struck her instead of Jarrett, plunging into her chest.

“Leandra!” he cried.

The Raven woman collapsed, Jarrett stepped over her and took his swift revenge on the one that had struck her down. The immediate danger dispatched, he kneeled down to assess Leandra’s injury. Too much blood was gushing from her chest.

Leandra raised her hand to touch Jarrett’s face. “Don’t you worry… about me. This is my time. If I must die, then I die for you, Jarrett. A man who has lost much, already.”

“Leandra,” he choked out. “No.”

“Go.” She patted his cheek, a gesture that held finality. “Fight for us all.”

He rose, and he fought once again, battling alongside his comrades to protect everything and everyone that Riordan endangered. Without a mage at their side, the battle was more difficult. Thankfully, Leandra had evened the numbers enough that they had a chance.

More of his friends were lost before it was over. Jarrett shouted with rage each time one of his own fell. He wouldn’t stop, not until every last one of the soldiers had joined them on the bloodsoaked floor.

Eventually, there were no more enemies to fight. Him and eight of his own had survived. Leandra and the other half of the Vanguardians laid lifeless. They had won the battle—at a steep price—but even so, they had failed in their task.

Riordan hadn’t been baited into coming to them. They could only pray that mages were safe from the god until they were ready to face him.