"Kiana! Stay with me!"

Fenrin watched helplessly as his niece begged her friend to stay alive.

Fiona kissed her before her face fell into Kiana's neck. "Please no, don't leave me. Please..."

"Move," Matius said in a raspy voice and Fiona rolled out the side as the mage lifted himself on one arm. His raised hand didn't glow and he frowned.

"He's out of magic," Fenrin whispered, his voice soft and ready to provide what comfort he could.

"Then...I'll...use...yours..." Matius gasped and something small glowed in his hand. Warm yellow light burst from his fingers and with a surge of strength he pulled the dagger free from Kiana's chest, pushing his already blood covered hands into the wound.

It fell suddenly as Matius lost consciousness. Fenrin knelt to check on him and Fiona pressed her ear to Kiana's chest.

She sobbed and Fenrin put a comforting hand on her shoulder but Fiona laughed and held Kiana closer. "She's alive. Uncle, she's alive!"

Fenrin felt the last icy fingers of fear remove themselves from his heart. They were all alive. She hadn't taken any of them from him. He choked and checked Matius's pulse again, it fluttered but it was there. Fenrin gently rolled him onto his back, brushing the bloody dark brown hair from his face.

"I told you I'd get you home," he whispered. He picked up the opened locket from the floor, rolling the round pendant in his calloused hand. It had been close, much too close.

Leaving Fiona alone in her happiness, Fenrin turned back to his sister's corpse. Eirik was kneeling by it, muttering.

"She's dead," Fenrin said simply and Eirik gave a small laugh.

"I wish I could see it. So long..." He straightened. "I waited a long time to do that."

"I know."

"No bloody vengeance for your family this time, Wolf?" Eirik spat.

Fenrin knelt and placed a hand gently on Eirik's shoulder. "No. Lyra earned her death and there has been far too much blood already. It's over and it's time to let the war outside know."

Slowly and with a gentleness that surprised himself, Fenrin picked up Lyra's body.

She was so light. He carried her out of the door, cradled in his arms.

Lyra. His sister. His twin. His demon. She was gone and not two paces out of the building Fenrin felt tears falling.

He shouldn't cry for her and he was glad he was alone when he did. For the first time in decades, Fenrin led his thoughts to his past of his own free will.

Lyra—with her clever mind and sharp determination. They hadn't always hated each other. Even now, Fenrin's heart ached. Was it just because she was his sister? Was it because of what could have been? He wasn't sure but he was glad he had this moment to mourn, to empty the long locked and battered black boxes and the broken things inside.

Still his twin had not been kind, not to him or anyone in the world and he’d swore that with her the war would end. He flagged down a mage and sent the message to Yu'jana.

The Iron Queen of Valhym was dead.