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Zarrel clamped a hand on my shoulder, forcing me back into the seat. The blade no longer mattered as Duncan finally opened his eyes, swirling dark with power. My emotions became an afterthought as every mirror in the room shifted and revealed a new scene, unnatural and yet real all the same.

Human and fey looked on, the shock and horror plastered across their faces. If I could see them through the mirrors, I knew that they too watched on from their places across Durmain.

“Citizens of Durmain,” Cassial’s voice boomed, vibrating the glass at his back. “See for yourselves the lies which the fey have spread. We offered them peace, and they responded with wishes for complete power over us. Duwar was never destroyed, but kept by the selfish king, Robin Icethorn, as a weapon to use against you. Feast your eyes upon their power, see how the fey wished to harness it and become your overlords, using our kindness against us.”

In that moment I knew just how the scene looked to those watching. Four fey sat on thrones, Cassial in the centre of swirling mist, clutching Duncan by the neck, whose eyes flamed boiling red with power.

And it was working. Combined with the opened crack in Duwar’s gate, the presence of Duwar and with it, the growing belief in the demon-god, ungodly magic was fuelled. Enough that the slither of power left in Duwar’s realm broke free, the wrong side of the gate.

Thishadto end.

A seed of knowing grew inside, showing me the one and only path for this to end. Duncan Rackley had to die, to forever remove Duwar from this game of control and power.

What came next was my chance – a gift from Erix.

It was in the reflection of the outside world that I saw them coming. A cloud of grey leather and wings, spearing across the sky in a formation. Gryvern. There’d been a time that seeing the creatures amassed sparked horror in me. They were the weapon of my family’s murder, the tool used by Doran Oakstorm. But now, as they filled the skies, their blood-curdling screams beyond the church walls, I welcomed it.

Erix controlled them now. He’d given up fighting against his guards. Instead, he was laughing. Deep rumbling chuckles that built in his chest, ricocheting across the room.

“You wanted monsters,” Erix sneered, blood and spit leaking over of his ruined lips. “I’ll give you them.”

The muffled cheers outside the church melted to screams as the gryvern flocked over their skies. I felt Zarrel relax his hold of the blade, enough to allow me to cock my head back and crack my skull into his nose.

Nephilim or not, his bones shattered, blood spraying. I ducked under the blind sweep of his arms, turned and – for good measure – smashed my fist into his face again.

If the nose hadn’t broke the first time, it certainly had the second.

Deep down, it felt good to punch him.Verygood. I gave him two more swift jabs until he choked on his broken teeth.

The golden hammer dropped to the ground before Zarrel could use it. Face smeared in blood, he tried to kneel and pick it up, but I slammed my boot down on his hand, crushing fingers and then swept my knee up and cracked it into his jaw.

In hindsight, I knew the world would watch on as I attacked one of their famed guardians, but I didn’t care.

To save the world, Ihadto act before I contemplated killing Duncan. If I gave myself room to think about it, I would hesitate. Deep down, dread kindled. But I had no choice…

Unless I finally accepted Duwar, just as it offered.

In a heartbeat, the room exploded in chaos. Gryvern tore at the doors to the church, flinging them off as like they were made of paper. The Nephilim inside the church had no option but to fight back, leaving Althea and Gyah with enough of a chance to free themselves.

But they were not the only ones.

Erix cut across the church, wings beating, clashing shoulder-first into Cassial’s middle. I was aware that Duncan was flung to the ground from the crack his skull made against the slabbed floor. The mirrors returned to their normal reflections, no longer sharing the scene with the thousands outside this church.

I scrambled to move toward him, but someone heavy crashed into me.

Back on the ground, I was spun up to face the body atop me. I lifted my arms up to protect my face, catching a glimpse of the demonic glower Zarrel shared as he peered down at me.

“You’ll be the first of the fey to die,” Zarrel jeered, hoisting the dagger up in one hand, his shattered teeth black with blood. “I’ll gladly watch the life leave your eyes; you really were an irritating little–”

Zarrel never got the chance to finish his sentence.

There was a blur of gold to his side, followed by the meaty thwack of metal against flesh. I’d seen a head cave in once before – when Erix had smashed Tarron Oakstorm’s skull with his bare fists.

I watched the golden hammer arch upon him, driven by a vengeful Rafaela with eyes burning with rage, it dented Zarrel’s head from the side. His eyes bulged, then popped. Blood and brain matter rained down on me. Chips of bone and a mass of hair stuck to my skin. I wanted to scream, but if I opened my mouth, it would’ve filled with the death of the Nephilim.

“Get… up,” Rafaela croaked, tears streaming down from furious eyes. “Fight, before we lose our only chance of stopping this.”

I took her hand, dragged out from beneath the weight of Zarrel’s limp body. I clawed at the gore over my eyes, flicking it down my iron-spoiled clothes. Vision cleared, I searched the chaos for Duncan, only to find his body splayed out across the floor. Nephilim circled, weapons drawn, wings splayed, but it was not to hurt Duncan.