Ending Maker novel · Chapter 3 of 24

Chapter 3: Twin Cast

In the marsh, wraiths force the rivals to fuse their casts, and a burning mark appears on both wrists.

We ran.

The well gate was a rusted door in the north wall, and Tavi knew the latch.

It opened on a muddy lane, and the lane ran downhill into dark water and reeds.

"The Greenmire," Tavi panted. "They won't follow past the causeway. The Champion's men are afraid of it."

"Why?" I asked.

"Because Hollows live in it."

Emmett cursed under his breath.

I'd been in the Greenmire a hundred times, in a raid group, level 300, with a healer and a tank and two voice channels full of jokes.

I had not smelled it before.

It smelled like wet rot and old coins.

The torches faded behind us.

Mist rolled up out of the reeds, silver and thin.

I took out the sword of light, and it was easy, like picking up a pen.

"Do you have your kit?" I asked.

"I have a sword, a cloak, and a shield that weighs a ton." Emmett swung his arm. "My skills are all there. They cost something."

"Cost what?"

"Breath. I used the shadow step in the cathedral and nearly passed out."

"Great," I said. "Mine feel the same. The big skill leaves me shaking."

"Then don't use the big skill."

"Don't tell me what to do."

"You didn't ask for advice."

"I never do."

"That's your problem."

"That's not my problem, that's my brand."

Tavi, between us, said brightly, "You two are very loud for people being hunted."

We both shut up.

Something moved in the mist ahead.

It was a long pale shape, bent over, with a mouth in the wrong place.

A wraith.

Then two, then five, rising from the water like drowned men standing up.

Hollow, hollow, hollow.

They made no noise, and that was worse.

"Healer behind me," I said to Tavi. "Stay low."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me ma'am."

I stepped forward and swung the sword of light.

The first wraith burned away in a line of white, but the second one slid under the swing and raked my arm.

It hurt.

It hurt more than any game had ever hurt.

My vision went white at the edge, and for a second I could not breathe.

"Greer!"

It was the first time he'd used my name.

A black blur went past me, and Emmett's shield struck the wraith's head with a sound like a door slamming.

He fought, no wasted steps, low and fast, but he was alone against five.

The shadow step took him through two of them and then he stumbled, hand on his chest.

"I can't hold it," he gasped. "Another one and I'm done."

"Then don't."

I got my feet under me.

I had a thought, the kind that comes when you've done a hard raid too many times.

Two cooldowns, two classes, one trigger.

Nobody had ever tested it, because nobody could play both heroes.

"Cast with me," I said.

"What?"

"The Sunblade's flare and the Nightwarden's veil. Together, on my count."

"That's not a combo."

"It is if you're an idiot who has never tried."

He laughed through a split lip.

"Three," I said.

"Two," he said.

"One."

I put my left hand out, palm up.

He put his gauntleted hand over mine, and we cast.

White light and black smoke came out of us at once, and they did not fight each other.

They wound together, and the braid went out across the water in a ring.

Every Hollow in the mist screamed without sound and went to ash.

The ring rolled over the whole swamp, and the reeds bent flat.

Then it was over.

I stood in the silence with my hand still in his and my heart going so hard I could hear it.

My wrist was burning.

I pulled up my sleeve and saw a mark sinking into my skin: a circle with seven small gaps in it.

One gap glowed.

Emmett was staring at his own wrist.

The same mark was on him.

Text appeared at the edge of my vision.

TWIN BOND. SEAL 1 OF 7 OPEN.

"That wasn't in the patch notes," I said.

"No," said Emmett, and his voice did something odd. "It wasn't."

Tavi was quietly crying and laughing at once, with both hands over her mouth.

"The old songs," she said. "The old songs said the heroes would burn together."

I let go of Emmett's hand and took three steps away to look for the causeway.

On the fourth step, a pain went through my chest like a cold knife.

I turned.

Emmett was on his knees in the mud with his hand pressed to his ribs, white as paper.

I ran back, and the pain stopped.

Both of us stared.

"Don't," he said hoarsely, "walk away from me again."

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