Page 2 of As Above, So Below

High cheekbones, piercing violet eyes, broad shoulders.

Like all fae I’ve had to collect over the centuries, he is beautiful, powerful, and utterly stupid for signing a contract with the god of death. The soldiers around him rush forward, clashing with those between us and I linger, less than twenty yards away, studying him.

Why would Netharis want the soul ofthisfae?

And what did Netharis offer Thalion to earn it?

Several soldiers break through the line, swarming Thalion. He’s quick to bring down his sword, ending two lives in less than a second. Rearing back with a foot, Thalion kicks a third in the face, knocking his helmet to the ground, revealing pointed ears.

Not human, fae.

These fae are fighting other fae?

Glancing around with a narrow-eyed stare, it becomes clear this battle isn’t between humans and fae as I’d assumed. The soldiers fighting beside Thalion are a mix of humans and fae, while all their opponents are fae.

I’m intrigued.

A garrison of fae fightingalongsidehumans is noteworthy considering the history between the two species. Fae dominate the living realm, seeking to rule, possess, or exterminate other specieswho threaten their reign.

Humans included.

Fae are responsible for the extinction of several species, subspecies of their own kind, no less. Winged fae, forest fae, and pixies to name a few. Fae are the demons of the living realm, truly.

Screams slice through the air, returning my focus to the scene before me as Thalion buries the point of his blade in the throat of yet another opponent. Two others charge at him, and in an instant, a stream of crimson flame blooms through the night, spiraling outward from Thalion’s fingertips.

Engulfed in hellfire, the faes’ cries are short lived as they collapse upon the grass. In seconds their flesh is rendered ash and their armor a molten conglomeration of metal.

There it is.

That’s what Netharis offered.

Hellfire can overpower nearly any innate, and it’s only bestowed to demons—that is, only full-blooded demons are capable of inheriting it. Thalion traded his soul in order to use a demonic innate magic. It’s not an offer I’d ever consider, even if I were a mortal.

A woman howls orders nearby, her voice carrying over the chaos, and drawing my eyes to a flash of crimson hair, but it’s lost before I can see their face. Thalion turns his beast north, and its eyes lock with mine. The creature doesn’t see me, but it does sense me.

Curiosity getting the better of me, I slip forward, between and around the fighting fae, and it chuffs.

“I am not here for you, beast.” I offer a small smile as its eyes stare through me. “But your rider owes a debt.”

No horse has let me touch it. In fact, most animals of the living realm possess the uncanny ability to sense me, and it sets them on edge. My fingers loom inches away, the distance growing slowly shorter as its large dark eyes pierce through me.

Huffing, it whinnies and rears, throwing its legs high into the air and on instinct I recoil, stepping backward. Too many things happen at once.

My wing brushes against a fae, and he crumples to the ground. As if it were an open invitation, my shadows race across the grass and snake around the feet of the others around me, quivering formy permission to feed. Thalion’s opponent rushes over the body, shoving his sword into the unprotected belly of the steed.

With a sharp cry, the horse falls, both rider and beast plummeting to the ground. Eyes wide, I lose the white-knuckled grip on my innate and every mortal in a twenty foot radius collapses.

Dead.

Their deaths cause a near euphoric rush to wash over me, and I shudder against it, forcing myself forward.

I cannot have killed Thalion.

I cannot have interfered with whatever Fate Nektos has woven for the fae. Netharis is going to lose his mind if I have. Panic coursing through me, I sweep left, and Thalion lies upon the ground, unmoving. Clamping down on my jaw and my innate, the darkness recedes, hiding itself away.

Shouts rise, and Thalion, pinned beneath the horse and against a large boulder, groans.

He lives. And thank the gods for it. My panic dissipates.