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Thea threw her shield aside and sprinted for the beast, launching herself into the air. She looped her blade around as she’d seen the Warsword himself do, and with all her remaining strength, she delivered a two-handed thrust to the demon’s chest.

Her sword broke through leathered skin, cartilage, muscle and bone.

Suddenly she was falling with the reaper.

Beside her, Wilder had also leapt —

They crashed into the monster, Wilder landing right on top of it, pinning it to the forest floor with each flaming blade embedded in the creature’s biceps.

The thing screeched and thrashed in agony, but couldn’t dislodge itself.

Wilder’s face slick with gore and sweat, he reached for his belt, where he unsheathed Malik’s dagger.

Thea didn’t take her eyes off him as he held it out to her, grip first, his silver eyes ablaze with determination. His voice was hoarse as he said, ‘You’re forged with blood and steel now.’

Thea didn’t hesitate, her hand was steady as she took the blade and carved into its chest. Black and red blood oozed from the incision site, as well as dozens of other wounds while Thea worked, cutting through foul tissue and tendons.

Its screams weakened and its whole body heaved a strangled wheeze before it fell silent beneath her blade.

Thea slid the dagger deeper, and Wilder’s gaze never left her as she took the reaper’s heart.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Upon the reaper’s death, the shadow and darkness swallowing the Bloodwoods retreated, revealing a sun-dappled canopy and the usual stillness of the forest.

Panting, Wilder dropped his swords and rushed over, his hands closing gently around her, drawing her to him as he examined her amidst the mess of the leaf litter. Panic was bright in his silver eyes, following the indiscernible blood spatters across her shredded clothes, his gaze falling to the hot, wet mass of the wraith’s heart heavy in her hand.

‘Are you hurt?’ he asked quietly. He looked as bad as she felt. Clothes ripped, covered in blood and muck from head to toe, and sporting several nasty bruises and gashes.

‘I’ll live,’ she replied at last, her voice raw.

But his concern only deepened as he peeled her shirt away from her skin, where webs of black veins stood out around a jagged slash at the top of her breasts.

Thea stared at it, too. The skin there seemed to fester before their eyes.

Wilder pushed something into her hand. ‘Drink this.’

It was his vial from the Aveum springs.

‘I can’t, that’s yours —’

‘Thea, please.’ He uncorked it and pushed it towards her mouth.

She looked around the carnage for her satchel. ‘I’ve got iruseed somewhere, that will keep me awake until I can get to the —’

‘Thea… Iruseed will do nothing. This is no ordinary wound. I knew someone who was shadow touched… They became part wraith. It’s no life I would wish upon anyone, especially you. I’ve saved the vial all this time, for a wound like this.’

‘But —’

‘Furies save me, just drink it.’

He was already tipping the vial to her lips.

The trickle of water was sweet, crisp, and fresh on her parched tongue. Her whole body tingled as its magical properties surged through her.

The deepest of her wounds knitted together, leaving only faint pink scars behind. And the network of black veins across her skin retreated, disappearing entirely within mere moments.

‘Thank the gods,’ Wilder murmured, tracing her healed skin in awe. ‘I’ve seen what a reaper’s touch can do. But it worked, you’re still… You’re still you.’