“This is no blessing,” he shot back. “And your allowing them to live after discovering it is further indication as to why you animals must be eradicated from this earth.”

The Myrza raised his blade overhead, preparing to slice into Banand. Without hesitation, I blasted obsidian spears in their direction in a desperate attempt to knock Banand out of the way of the swinging blade.

Time fractured. The world thinned into singular strands.

Araquiel’s mouth opened in a silent scream, whatever hold Ishim had over her shattering beneath the might of their mating bond. Darkness scorched through the night. Banand’s eyes squeezed shut. Ishim grinned with malice. Rokath leaped between the Angel’s leader and me.

Everyone froze.

Uzadaan and Zurronar stepped forward, the only two of the group who could move. No heartbeats passed as they raced to Banand and Araquiel. Uzadaan knocked the would-be executioner’s blade aside as he tackled him.

Zurronar bolted for Araquiel, earth churning beneath each stride. He reached for her—Fates, so fucking close.

Then, the corner of Ishim’s mouth twitched. Grew into a smile made to slaughter.

Fear flashed among the maroon of Zurronar’s eyes. His magic had faltered, failing him at the penultimate moment.

He twisted mid-stride, but the silver blade was already there. In one swift strike, Ishim buried a dagger between his ribs.

A choked gasp slipped from Zurronar. He stumbled, colliding with Araquiel, his momentum unstoppable. They fell together—their fates entwined, helpless in the grip of the Hive’s will. A blur of limbs and blood, swallowed by the void beyond.

A scream tore through me, nearly as violent as the roar that ripped from Banand’s throat.

But that wasn’t the worst sight before us.

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64

Uzadaan stabbed the Myrza and whirled into a crouch to face the Zahal. Flashes of white from deep below highlighted each bare branch in stark relief. A bronze vise crushed my chest.

We’d made a terrible mistake.

In that moment of frozenness, others had been given time to creep forward, under control of Ishim’s Hive.

The surge of glassy-eyed puppets broke the treeline. Quaked the earth beneath my feet. I yanked Assyria behind me, forcing her out of Ishim’s line of sight.

“Do not be afraid. Hold your ground. Protect yourself at all costs. You are the most precious life here.”

My pulse pounded like a war drum in my chest as I calculated how many dead were around us. How many I could Call to shield her. To shield all of us.

I counted how many precious seconds we had to live.

The number for both was far too few.

But I would not let her die. The world bent to my will.

I dropped to a single knee.

Curled my furious fingers into my palm.

Cocked my fist.

And slammed.

A shockwave of ebony shadow clawed across the hillside, knocking our attackers back for a single, precious moment.

All around us, corpses rose. Sweat beaded my brow as I pushed my magic farther and farther afield, gathering whomever I could to serve me.

The roar of the fight was lost on me as I called, begged, pleaded, with the dead to assist us. With shaking legs, I shoved to my feet, head still dipped down as I dug into my mighty power.

“Reaper, I wield in your name.”

I spoke the words aloud as I brought my arms out in front of me, pointing directly at Ishim.

The ground trembled as the bodies surged on the wave of my fury.

“Let your eye wander here.”

I snapped my gaze forward, locking with the ice blue eyes of the Angel’s Zahal.

“Giver, bless me with the power to slaughter the remainder of these insects.”

Screams rose to a crescendo around me. Vague awareness of the Deathveiled fighting the ring of Angels around us slipped away. My sole focus was on the male calling more and more Angels to his Hive. Because he wouldn’t deign to enter the minds of the Demons, and that was his fatal mistake.

Our staredown continued as the living and dead fought in massive stacked rings.

“Weaver, let the Demon threads hold strong.”

I took a menacing step forward, dipping to pick up my blade at the same time. Ishim drew his, both our attention split between each other and the Gods-blessed power we wielded.

He swung first. Sparks scattered from the force of our collision. I shoved him with all my might, muscles trembling with exertion. I had the uphill advantage, and yet he hardly stumbled. His movements were crisp, his breath unbroken, fresh as if he’d awoken only an hour before. And I had led from the fall of night, side by side with my soldiers since the first warning shattered our planning.

Coward.

Heel dug into the dirt, he launched under my blade, aiming for my legs. I leaped at the last second, reaching for a low hanging branch. With one hand, I swung myself behind him, spinning the moment my feet struck the earth. But Ishim’s lithe frame made him faster than me, and he was already poised to strike.

A wall of obsidian was all that kept his blade from grazing my armor. With a growl, I pressed forward, hoping to make him stumble going uphill. Flashes of white dotted the edges of my vision as more and more of his soldiers worked their way through the trees to the height of the battle.

They gave us a wide berth as we fought like feral beasts. Dozens of my corpses were falling permanently, either unable to use their limbs any longer or because my well was drying up like water in the Paks Desert.

Ishim sidestepped, leveling out with me. Behind me, I knew, was a smooth outcropping. There, slaughtering him would be easier. I let him back me there, laying my careful, precarious trap. The earth gave way to rock beneath my boot.

Only a few more steps…

My heel hooked on something in the dark, and my world tilted on its axis.

Ishim seized the opportunity and leaped forward, blade spearing straight to my middle. I crashed to the ground, unforgiving metal slamming into my spine. Agony speared my upper thigh as the tip of the Zahal’s blade dug between the plates of my armor. I snatched the sharp edges with my gloved palms, silver biting through the fabric there too. But the pain was ashes beneath the fire of my will to protect Assyria. I’d endured far worse and had the scars to prove it.

Blood cascaded from my hand as I wrenched his sword free and threw it into the darkness. The luminosity cast by the Angels flying overhead was dimmed here, rocks and thick-needled pine trees blocking it out.

Ishim drew a dagger by the tip, arm poised and ready to throw. There were only a few places it could penetrate my armor, but I knew from past experience he had good aim. And in this position, with me on the ground and him standing over me, the space between my helmet and my chest plate was exposed.

Smoky gray unfurled from my frame and then stuttered out entirely, my magic waning from contact with silver.

Fuck.

How could I have stumbled at the penultimate moment? Ishim wouldn’t hesitate to slaughter Assyria once he was done with me. Image after image of him torturing her flashed through my mind. He wouldn’t hold back. Not after all the times I’d tormented him, taking the females he loved from him.

I swallowed, hard, as the white of his form gleamed. He took a long, confident step forward, passing through a stream of light that managed to flit through the branches. Like he knew he had me pinned like a wounded animal, and he was preparing to deliver the killing blow.

He cannot end me. He cannot have my mate.

I gritted my teeth and prepared to defend myself, injured leg aching as I attempted to rise from the cold ground.