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Alex saw the moment her friend accepted her decision, albeit reluctantly.

“Then go,” Kyia said.

“But by the stars,” Zain added, “you’d better come back in one piece, little human. And when you do, you’ll explain what in the name of the light is going on with you and theGar—with…Niyx.”

It sounded as if it physically hurt him to say Niyx’s name, let alone act like he was in the same room. Despite everything she was about to face, Alex had to fight against a twitch of a smile.

“We’ll be back as soon as we can,” she told them. “And we’ll explain everything then.”

With that promise, Alex pushed Niyx out of the tent, told Soraya where they were going—not that the wolf wouldn’t have just appeared by her side the moment they arrived—and was swept away as Niyx activated theValispatharound them, directing them straight to Graevale.

Thirty-Two

Alex was covered in blood.

It was splattered on her arms, her legs, her chest, even her face—silver and red blood, coating her from head to toe. Black blood from the Shadow Walkers. White blood from the Dayriders.

Blood.

Everywhere.

All around her, the four races were fighting on a vicious, merciless battlefield.

There were bursts of darkness as the Shadow Walkers appeared and disappeared, and flashes of light as the Dayriders did the same. More flashes came as the Dayriders called forth lightning, using it as their chosen weapon of attack.

There were humans amongst them, too—humans who had answered Alex’s call after she had activated her Beacon tattoo, tracing the sideways figure-of-eight five times to send out her location. Bubbledoors had appeared almost instantly, with the armed forces charging from the colourful portals and into the fray.

Led by Commander Nisha, with Generals Drock and Tyson at her side—along with a company of Wardens overseen by Jeera and William—the humans fired bright lights from their Stabilisers across the war zone. The blasting weapons had little effect on the Meyarins, but distracted them enough for the Shadow Walkers and Dayriders to swoop in and engage the immortal race in combat. When none of Graevale’s denizens were close by, the Wardens and militia swung their own blades, their courage unfailing.

Even fighting against three fronts, the Meyarins were relentless in their assault. TheValispathenabled them to move just as swiftly as those from Graevale, their increased strength and speed in every other area allowing them to take ground, and quickly.

The bloodthirsty carnage of the battle shocked Alex on a level she had never imagined possible. It wasn’t at all like the movies; it wasn’t a perfectly choreographed rhythm of attack and defence.

It was gruesome.

It was brutal.

It was beyond her worst nightmares.

Becoming numb to the sights, sounds and smells depicting the harsh realities of war, Alex swept through the masses with Niyx and Soraya flanking her sides. The wolf was tearing down anyone who tried to get close, with Niyx doing the same using the armoury of weapons he had strapped to his body.

As for Alex, she swung A’enara left and right to help cull down the attacking forces, aiming to maim, not kill. She stabbed at legs and arms and any flesh that would force the Claimed Meyarins out of action and into a retreat. But she was one of the few taking such care. Not even Niyx and Soraya checked their attacks, those they slayed being unfortunate casualties of war.

The blood covering Alex’s body was not all her own. But it might as well have been, since she felt dead inside from what she was seeing, from what she was taking part in.

So many bodies lay around them.

Shadow Walkers. Dayriders. Meyarins. Humans.

So much death.

And above it all, on the steps of the Obscuria surveying the scene like a god amongst men, was Aven. He wasn’t engaged in the battle; his sword wasn’t even drawn. He merely watched with a detached air as his Claimed subjects fought for him; as they died for him. He showed no concern for his army, including—or perhaps especially—his gifted humans caught in the crossfires, seemingly apathetic to their fates as they used their abilities to defend themselves—or died trying to do so.

Calista was there, using her telekinetic gift to freeze the nearest Shadow Walkers and Dayriders, allowing the Meyarins to glide by and kill them.

Gerald was there, his tattoos coming to life and surging from his skin like barbed, bladed whips, slaying those who dared approach.

Grimm was there, sending anyone he made eye contact with into a coma-like sleep, guaranteeing their death by the swords of passing Meyarins.