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Valen pressed his palms to the soil. His fury would be weakened from breaking the Row, but it still had power. He crumbled the banks of the crevice, smashing the sides closer together. Sea fae scrambled to be rid of the shifting edges, desperate to avoid getting crushed.

But when they emerged from the water, Sol held out his palms. Dark, sticky fury spilled off his hands and dug into the soil beneath their feet. Blackened veins coiled around the sea fae, poisoning them from the bottom up until they thrashed and choked on spittle.

Use our gifts. I sliced my sword against a fae trying to flee. He fell at my feet.

Calista was near Tor and Elise. Safe. Alive. Bleeding stunning how she struck and killed.

Smug grins faded from the faces of the sea fae. Now, they simply looked terrified as they fought for their lives.

“Slaughterthem,” Davorin roared.

For some, a new energy latched onto the sea fae. They dug their swords deeper, fought with a wretched anger, and slashed their blades into the fray without mercy. Across the Row, I caught the gaze of the battle lord. His lip curled. He’d been aiming for Saga, but Ari’s illusions locked the bastard in a wretched confusion that kept him altering course.

Soon enough the Golden King would fatigue. The Raven Queen would not be able to hold her strength against the bastard.

Davorin cut his blade through spines—earth folk and sea folk alike—and made his way toward me. Toward Calista. He wanted our throats, perhaps our power. He’d want us to turn this war in his favor.

Our gifts. Use our gifts.

“Don’t forget the part where the dream descends.”

I spun around. One of the seer sisters, Oviss, flashed an eerie smile, saying nothing more before she bolted away. I had no time to think long on the notion before Davorin shouted angrily. His dark glamour spilled over the canals of water, darkening the tides.

These turns he’d been hidden beneath the sea, no mistake, he found a way to take on pieces of their abilities.

In frustration, he flung the water at a row of Rave warriors. Cuyler was among them. The tracker and his lover. Even some of the forest folk from the isles.

Davorin faded. Like a drop of ink, he slipped from his fae form and bled into the wild currents, wrapping the tides around the warriors in a dark, watery cocoon. All hells, he’d devour them soon enough.

With a fierce jab of my sword into a dark streak, the wall of water faded. Our warriors fell over. Some in puddles of blood.

“Blood fae!” My heart quickened. Cuyler wasn’t moving. He was Calista’s friend. He’d protected her. “Blood fae, get up.”

He didn’t budge. Nor did one of the fae from the Court of Serpents.

“Rune!” the tracker shouted and scrambled to the winged fae.

I didn’t have time to see the outcome before pools of black tides spun wildly and shaped legs and shoulders until Davorin returned, ready to strike. His blade crashed on mine. I spun and cut at his ribs.

He drew his sword against me, I met the edge and blocked the strike. Faces close, Davorin hissed, “You think you stand a chance? Don’t forget who marred you, boy.”

“Don’t forget who made you nothing but mist, you bastard.” I pressed my brow to his. “Two children. Some battle lord you are.”

He grunted in frustration and kicked me away. Davorin held no mercy and flung his blade against mine, over and over, no reprieve. All I could do was mark his strikes and try to block.

“Silas!” Calista screamed my name when I fumbled backward.

Tor released a blast of pyre beside her, trying to keep a new swell of sea fae back, and as a signal to Herja and Gunnar above. The archers readjusted their arrows to the center of the Row. They aimed at Davorin.

The battle lord dodged a fiery point, but a second arrow pierced his shoulder. Or, at least, it should’ve. The point seemed to peel out of his flesh.

What the hells?

Davorin’s grin was wolfish and cruel as he tossed the arrow aside. “You cannot touch me, boy. Give yourself up, and this battle ends.”

I took a step back, avoiding the swift strike of his sword, but the point caught the side of my ribs. A flash of pain burned through my side. Instinct to flee from the pain took hold. It was how I survived whenever Calista died. A way to flee from the heartache and anguish was to let my mind slip into shadows. Here, in the middle of a damn battlefield, I wanted to slip away. To escape the burn of his strikes.

I gritted my teeth, blocked a second strike, but stumbled to my knees.