Crimson fires dotted each gaping basin, stretching as far as I could see in either direction and disappearing over ridgelines in the distance. Males and females bearing bows lined up at the lip of the far side, arrows notched and ready to fire when the officer called for it. I spotted Olet at the closest guard tower, counting out soldiers and weapons. Females raced by him, carrying buckets of bolts between them.

Rokath angled us toward him, and we landed in quick succession in the only open space. Olet offered Rokath and me a quick salute before launching into an update on the Angel’s position. But his words were cut short by another blast of the horn. Our attention ripped down, and whispers of white appeared among the treeline.

Ice shattered through my veins as the Angels raced into the clearing. Thousands of them, many still stuck among the thick boughs, boasted furious, hateful, determined expressions. More rose from over the treetops, bringing with them a pure white light that lit up the night.

Stars winked out, unable to compete with the power of the Angel’s display.

Time slowed to a crawl as flashes of my mother, my father, and my sweet, sweet sister twisted my clamoring heart. Then Olrus and Izgath surged from the depths. The priestesses I’d barely gotten to know. All the people I loved who had died. Who I would meet in another world should we fail tonight.

Terror seized every muscle in my body. But I refused to fucking yield. Not now, not ever, to them. I’d show my people who and what we fought for.

“Prepare yourselves!” Rokath boomed, the depth of his voice reverberating along the stone. From his back, he drew his sword. The garnets embedded in the eyes of the skull on the pommel glinted in the light.

I yanked my own blades free, knees bending slightly as I prepared to face our enemy. Shouts threaded through the tension for the archers to prepare their first volley.

Almost instinctively, I sent a prayer to the three deities who had put me on the path that led to this moment—where my destiny would be realized, where all our fates had converged across Keleti.

Weaver, Giver, Reaper, hear me. Grant Rokath and I life after this. One more breath together. One more kiss. I will bleed the world dry for you. Feed your earth every drop of my blood if I must. So long as in the end, I have him.

A collective roar rose from the Demons, raising the hairs on the back of my neck with its ferocity.

And then, arrows flew.

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62

Angels plummeted from the skies like white streaks. Bolts jutted from broken wings. Blood streaked their pale uniforms. Branches snapped beneath their fall. Cries of alarm fractured the air, then silenced with satisfying crunches.

“Again!” I bellowed, and the archers notched and aimed. But the airborne Angels were faster with their bows drawn and at the ready. Arrows, like an oncoming storm, sailed toward us.

A shield of black shrouded the wall, saving us from the worst of the damage. Two bolts sank into the males at the front, one in the thigh, the other in a shoulder. Both pulled them free, though the one with the latter stepped out of line, a female from the second snatching his place.

A swell rose to our left, and Olet raced away to manage that section. “Fire at will,” I commanded the archers. To the Deathveiled, I said, “Use your shadows to cover them. When the Angels reach the base of the wall, we attack.”

“Yes, sir!” they replied, spreading out behind the third line. Beside me, Assyria’s magic unfurled from her fingertips, poised to spear into the skies and protect our soldiers.

Her focus remained on the Angels approaching from below, gauging their distance as much as I was. “I need to be everyone,” she murmured, her brows pinching as she thought. “Me one moment, you another, the Myrza after that. Each form has its advantages.”

Arrows rained down again, barely visible until they were close enough to strike. Without hesitation, her shadows burst outward, creating a thick veil that left no one vulnerable. Not a single strike found purchase. When the clattering ceased, she dropped it, allowing the projectiles to fall all around us. Those at the rear scooped them up and shoved them into quivers for reuse.

The first line fired back, felling another dozen Angels from the sky. Too late, they saw the ones diverging from the right. Projectiles sank into the males at the front. Many collapsed backward, hands clasped over wounded necks.

The first dead.

I glanced at Assyria, worried for her reaction. Her jaw was set hard, but she didn’t crack. Didn’t crumble. Merely bore witness to their sacrifice. Accepted it as part of their path.

More soldiers filled the empty space. Hands reached to pile the deceased out the way, where they could be burned later or wielded by me.

The Angels on the ground closed in, and the archers fired down, halting their advance for the briefest of moments.

It was time.

“Cover us.”

“Yes, sir,” the Vezető in charge responded without breaking his focus.

“Let’s go,” I shouted at the Deathveiled. Zurronar and Banand spun on their squads, barking instructions. Their Százados relayed further information over the wall, where most of the ground forces waited.

Beside me, Assyria’s magic swirled around her form, until I stood shoulder to shoulder with myself. My magic snaked out and wrapped around her waist. I collected Grem and Zeec in my web, then eased us off the stone. Bringing my fingers to my lips, I let out a sharp whistle, signaling our advance.

Like a swarm of red and black, our army rose. Wings buffeted the air. Shadow crawled through the night, battling with the Angel’s light for space in the skies. We dove toward the ground, covered by the power of thousands atop the wall.

Dozens of squads landed on either side of us in the clearing. On one side, Olet’s battalion charged forward. On the other, two Parancsok combined forces, sending their soldiers clamoring over rocks to cut off any opportunity to take the wall.

The scrape of swords removed from sheaths, the whoosh of glaives slicing through the air, the clink of throwing daggers being stacked, all of it formed an all too familiar harmony.

“Prepare yourselves!” I shouted, digging my heel into the dirt. Beside me, Assyria did the same, drawing a sword that was more appropriate for her normal size. But she wouldn’t impersonate me for long. Just enough to sow chaos into the rabid, fast-approaching Angels.

“Cease shadow!” came my next command. All Demon magic dissipated, bathing the clearing in light. Confusion flickered in blue eyes, and paces slowed, especially in the groups directly facing us.

“Now!” I roared, and as one, the Demon army raced forward, polearms taking the first swipes at our attackers.

Blood spilled for the Fates a moment later. The clash of bronze and silver rang through the clearing next. Cries of the dying followed, and I chased them, adrenaline flowing in my veins. Beside me, Assyria pounded the earth, churning it as she skidded to a stop and sidestepped a blow. Zeec bounded forward, protecting Assyria’s flank. I sank my blade into the neck of the first pathetic Angel to challenge me. The next died without so much as a scream.

A boom sounded to my left, and the dirt exploded, sending a group flying backward. Retaliation came in the form of the illusion of a dozen more sailing overhead. Yet it was a pathetic attempt at best, and I ignored it in favor of cutting down a female headed for Assyria.

She whipped around, and a smirk curved my lips. “You’re welcome.”

Her eyes glittered with amusement through the slits in my helmet. “I’ll never believe that you don’t know how to joke,” she quipped. Then, she swung her blade out, catching a male passing by in the side. It was an impressive move for her only having seen him in her periphery.