Prologue
Darkness
The roar of anguish blasted through the Shield like the shockwaves of a bomb.
Pressure assaulted Ben’s ears as if he were suddenly plunged fathoms deep beneath the crushing seas. Everything was muffled as his eardrums throbbed.
Everything throbbed.
The concrete walls around him that supported the Pure Ones’ base, hidden in plain sight in one of the tallest skyscrapers in Manhattan, seemed to pulse with a burgeoning energy. A power that couldn’t be contained—
A moment before all of the glass within the Shield, all of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the restless NYC night scene, blew out in a million shards.
Ben barely noticed the jagged glass that ricocheted at him, slicing into his face and arms, digging into his jean-clad legs. As if in slow motion, he watched the chaos unfold around him:
The inhabitants of the Shield running through their emergency protocols, securing the building as best they could. The Chevaliers, the human soldiers in residence, helping to get everyone into safe rooms or at least tucked away beneath bolted down steel furniture or in protective nooks.
In a soundless daze, Ben staggered down the hall from his own temporary apartment to the healing chamber. He didn’t know why he went one way while everyone else went another, but he had to see for himself.
Someone touched his shoulder as he passed. Valerius, the Protector, head of the Pure Queen’s personal guard. The warrior said something to Ben, his face grim.
Ben shook his head.
He still couldn’t hear beyond the droning in his ears, but the shake was also to indicate that he didn’t need attention. Others needed it more. Though he was bleeding from gashes and cuts, nothing was broken. He could handle it.
Valerius gave one curt nod and moved on.
Others passed him along the hall. Sophia, the Pure Queen, Dalair, her Mate and a member of the Elite warriors, Liv, the human Chevalier that Ben had met once or twice. He met their eyes as they passed, and they nodded in return, trusting that he knew what he was doing.
Honestly, he didn’t. He merely followed his instincts.
Minutes later, he arrived at the healing chamber. When the double doors slid open to reveal what he feared to see—utter and total emptiness—no Ere, no Sorin—he took a bracing breath as his heart kickstarted and began to race.
Fuck.
Sorin was gone.
Which meant that the demonic roar he’d heard had been Ere’s.
Ben would like to cling to the hope that the phoenix warrior wasn’t lying abed like he had been for the past few weeks in a comatose state because he’d miraculously recovered, got up and walked out on his own two feet.
But that would be wishful thinking.
Nothing over this fraught, tenuous time showed signs that Sorin would recover. Ever since he suddenly plummeted from the skies during a routine training run one day, his soul seemed as if it were trapped in some sort of prison, while his body still existed.
Not lived, merely existed.
His heart beat sluggishly, but steadily. His breath was slow and faint. But he maintained his corporeal form, no matter where his soul had gone.
For weeks, since Ere brought him to the Shield and beseeched the Pure and Dark Ones’ help to cure him, they hadn’t made much progress between human science and Immortal magic. Only Sai’s visit, through the healing dragon and fae breath he shared with Sorin, seemed to calm the warrior’s tortured soul, so that finally, the pained scowl loosened from his brow; his granite jaw, unclenched.
Ben thought that this reprieve would buy them more time to figure out what was wrong with Sorin. To bring him back from whatever hell he was imprisoned in.
He should have known better.
It was merely the calm before the storm. He knew the truth instinctively. He felt it with every harsh thump of his heart—
Sorin was gone!