Over—she had said so many times that she wished if to be over. He should have listened.

Chaol gripped Dorian, and the young lord said to Rowan, softly and sadly, “I’m sorry.”

She had lied.

His Fireheart had lied.

And he would now watch her die.

Hand in hand with her enemy, Aelin allowed the magic to flow again. Allowed it to rage out of her.

The nameless king’s power was nothing compared to Dorian’s. But it was just enough, as he said. Just enough to help.

She had never intended for Dorian to destroy himself for this. Only for him to give just enough. And then she would have tossed him back into Erilea. So she might finish this alone.

Payment for ten years of selfishness, ten years away from Terrasen, ten years of running.

The agony became a numbing roar. Even the old king was panting through the pain.

Close now. The gold loops and circles of the Lock solidified.

Still more was needed. To bind this place, to bind all worlds.

He would never forgive her.

Her mate.

She had needed him to let her go, needed him to accept it. She would never have been able to do it, to come here, had he been begging her not to, had he been weeping as she had wanted to weep when she had kissed him one last time.

Come back to me, he had whispered.

She knew he’d wait. Until he faded into the Afterworld, Rowan would wait for her to return. To come back to him.

Aelin’s magic tore out of her, a piece so vital and deep that she cried out, swaying. Only the king’s grip kept her from falling.

The Lock was nearly finished, the two overlapping circles of the Eye almost complete.

Her magic writhed, begging her to stop. But she could not. Would not.

“Soon now,” the king promised.

She found the man smiling.

“I was given a message for you,” he said softly. His edges blurred, as the last of his power drained away. But he still smiled. Still looked at peace. “Your parents are … They are so very proud of you. They asked me to tell you that they love you so very much.” He was nearly invisible now, his words little more than a whisper of wind. “And that the debt has been paid enough, Fireheart.”

Then he was gone. The last of him flowed into the Lock. Wiped from existence.

She barely felt the tears on her face as she fell to her knees. As she gave and gave her magic, her very self. My name is Aelin Ashryver Galath—

A choking scream tore out of her as the last of the Lock sealed.

As the Lock became forged once more, as real as her own flesh.

As Aelin’s magic completely vanished.

CHAPTER 97

She could barely move. Barely think.

Gone. Where light and life had flowed within her, there was nothing.

Not an ember. Only a droplet, just one, of water.

She clung to it, shielded it as they appeared, twelve figures through the portal behind her. Filtering into this place of places, this crossroads of eternity.

“It is done, then,” said the one with many faces, approaching the Lock that hovered in midair. A flick of a ghostly, ever-changing hand and the Lock floated toward Aelin. Landed on her lap, gold and glittering.

“Summon us our world, girl,” said the one with a voice like steel and screams. “And let us go home at last.”

The final breaking. To send them back, to seal the gate. She’d use her last kernel of self, the final droplet, to seal the gate shut with the Lock. And then she would be gone.

Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom …

“Now,” one with a voice like crashing waves ordered. “We have waited enough.”

Aelin managed to lift her head. To look at their shimmering figures. Things from another world.

But amongst them, pressed into their ranks as if they held her captive …

Elena’s eyes were wide. Agonized.

Who loved her kingdom …

One of them snapped their ghostly fingers at Aelin. “Enough of this.”

Aelin looked up at her, at the goddess who had spoken. She knew that voice. Deanna.

Silently, Aelin surveyed them. Found the one like a shimmering dawn, the heart of a flame.

Mala did not look at her. Or at Elena, her own daughter.

Aelin turned away from the Fire-Bringer. And said to none of them in particular, “I should like to make a bargain with you.”

The gods stilled. Deanna hissed, “A bargain? You dare to ask for a bargain?”

“I would hear it,” said one whose voice was kind and loving.

The thing in her arm writhed, and Aelin willed it to reveal what they sought.

The portal to their realm. Sunlight over a rolling green country nearly blinded her. They whirled toward it, some sighing at the sight.

But Aelin said, “A trade. Before you fulfill your end.”

Words were distant, so difficult and pained. But she forced them out.

The gods halted. Aelin only looked at Elena. Smiled softly.

“You have sworn to take Erawan with you. To destroy him,” Aelin said, and the one with a voice like death faced her. As if remembering they had indeed promised such an outrageous thing.

“I would like to trade,” she said again. And managed to point, with that arm that held all of eternity within it. “Erawan’s soul for Elena’s.”

Mala turned toward her now. And stared.

Aelin said into their silence, “Leave Erawan to Erilea. But in exchange, leave Elena. Let her soul remain in the Afterworld with those she loves.”

“Aelin,” Elena whispered, and tears like silver flowed down her cheeks.

Aelin smiled at the ancient queen. “The debt has been paid enough.”

She had wanted them to debate it—her friends. Had asked for a vote on the gate not just to ease the burden of the choice, but to hear it from them, to hear them say that they could defeat Erawan on their own. That Yrene Towers might stand a chance to destroy him.

So she could make this bargain, this trade, and not seal their doom entirely.

“Don’t do it,” Elena begged. Begged all those cold, impassive gods. “Don’t agree to it.”

Aelin said to them, “Leave her be, and go.”

“Aelin, please,” Elena said, weeping now.

Aelin smiled. “You bought me that extra time. So I might live. Let me buy this for you.”

Elena covered her face with her hands and wept.

The gods looked among themselves. Then Deanna moved, graceful as a stag through a wood.

Aelin loosed a breath, bowing over her knees, as the goddess approached Elena.

No one but herself. She would allow no one but herself to be sacrificed in this final task.

Deanna laid her hands on either side of Elena’s face. “I had hoped for this.”

Then she pressed her hands together, Elena’s head clasped between them.

A flare of light from Mala, in warning and pain, as Elena’s eyes went wide. As Deanna squeezed.

And then Elena ruptured. Into a thousand shimmering pieces that faded as they fell.

Aelin’s scream died in her throat, her body unable to rise as Deanna wiped her ghostly hands, and said, “We do not make bargains with mortals. Not any longer. Keep Erawan, if that is what you wish.”

Then the goddess strode through the archway into her own world.