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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

CASSIEL

The courtyard is a maelstrom of conflicting energies.

My wings beat against the crimson-tinged air, carrying me above the worst of the ground-level chaos, but even from this vantage, the situation is dire.

Collectors pour through the breached wards like ants swarming a fallen fruit, their shadowy forms coalescing into vaguely humanoid shapes as they engage with anyone in their path.

CJ, a magnificent, terrifying silhouette of black crystal against the blood-moon sky, is their primary target.

Of course. He is the ultimate prize for them.

A creature that shouldn’t exist in this realm and does.

They will be determined to get to him one way or another.

Spells of dark, chilling energy lance towards him from multiple directions.

He roars, a sound that vibrates through my very bones, and unleashes a torrent of fire that momentarily clears a swathe of enemies, but more surge forward to replace them.

Below, William is a whirlwind of dark magic and flashing steel, his movements a brutal ballet as he carves through the Collector ranks.

He’s fighting with a terrifying efficiency, each strike precise and fatal, but even he is being overwhelmed by sheer numbers.

The runes on his skin pulse with a frantic light, visible even from here.

He is having the time of his life, though, that is evident by the manic grin on his blood-splattered face.

My fight is a desperate attempt to thin the herd, to prevent the Collectors from completely overrunning us.

Bolts of uncelestial light, tinged with the gold of my angelic heritage and the black of my fall, strike down infiltrators, but for every one that falls, two more seem to take its place.

They are relentless, driven by a singular purpose that I can almost taste in the air – Isolde.

If Damadere arrives now, we are doomed. She will take advantage of this chaos to make her move on Isolde. To kill her, extinguish her as a threat to her Blood Crown.

I bank sharply, diving towards the main building, deflecting a volley of dark energy aimed at my descent. I need to reach her, to provide some measure of protection, but the path is choked with enemies. The battle for SilverGate has truly begun, but it’s not only Isolde who is in the spotlight.

Suddenly, I’m yanked out of the air by a force that feels like an invisible hand clamping around my wings, twisting them painfully.

I hit the ground hard, the impact jarring through my entire body.

Before I can recover, a Collector is on me, its shadowy form solidifying as it presses me into the stone.

“Fallen one,” it hisses, its voice like scraping bone. “You will make a nice grimoire of knowledge heretofore unknown to the academics.”

“Like hell,” I growl, bringing a bolt of lightning to my hands that will smite this creature from existence.

With a roar of defiance, I force my uncelestial grace outward in a concussive blast. The Collector recoils, its form flickering, and I seize the momentary advantage, driving my black-light blade into its core. It dissolves into shadow and dust, but others are already converging on my position.

I fight my way back to my feet. The courtyard is a charnel house, the scent of ozone and spilt blood thick in the air.

CJ is still airborne, but he’s clearly struggling, ice encasing one wing, making his movements sluggish.

William is a blur of motion, a dark avenger cutting down Collectors, but even his seemingly endless stamina is beginning to wane.

Students are dropping like flies. Benz has been mauled to near death by a creature associated with The Collectors that is half bear, half something I’ve never seen or heard of before.

“We will not lose!” I roar and blast out a circle of pure magic that knocks several creatures off their feet.

The energy I unleash buys us moments, nothing more.

The Collectors surge back, their shadowy forms relentless, their hunger a palpable force in the blood-soaked air.

From the corner of my eye, I see William go down, swarmed by at least five of the bastards.

He roars in fury, dark magic exploding outwards, but it’s not enough to break free.

CJ is being attacked from all sides, but their mission seems to be to capture, not kill.

Desperation, cold and sharp, cuts through the battle rage. We are losing.

With a bellow that sounds like it came from the depths of hell, I see William rise from the midst of his attackers.

What I see makes my blood run cold. He is truly terrifying. The vampire in him has morphed into something more, something that I can only imagine represents the Sanguinarch in him.

His skin is pulled taut over his bones, runes blazing with a wicked light that casts flickering shadows across his monstrous features.

His eyes are pits of crimson flame, and his fangs are elongated, dripping with a black ichor that sizzles where it hits the stone.

His muscles are knotted and corded, his hands ending in vicious claws that tear through the Collectors with horrifying ease.

This isn’t just vampire rage. This is something older, something darker. The Butcher of SilverGate, unleashed.

He moves with a speed and ferocity that eclipses even his usual deadly grace, tearing through the Collectors, ripping them apart with his bare hands, their shadowy forms dissolving into shrieking motes of darkness.

He is a force of nature, a whirlwind of death and destruction, and the Collectors, for the first time, seem to hesitate.

CJ, seeing William’s transformation, lets out a guttural roar, a challenge and a call to arms. He dives, ignoring the spells striking his scales, and lands heavily in the courtyard, his impact shaking the very foundations of the academy.

Fire erupts from his maw, a searing torrent that engulfs a dozen Collectors, their screams swallowed by the inferno.

The tide of the battle, for a moment, seems to turn, and it revives my determination.

Inspired by their raw power, I launch myself back into it, my wings beating a furious rhythm against the blood-moon sky.

Uncelestial light, now burning with an intensity fuelled by desperation, streams from my outstretched hands, each bolt finding its mark, each strike a defiance against the encroaching darkness.

The courtyard is a symphony of destruction. CJ’s draconic roars mingle with William’s guttural snarls and the dying shrieks of Collectors. Fire and shadow dance across the ancient stones, the Crimson Moon bearing witness to our desperate stand.

But even with their transformed might, the sheer number of Collectors is overwhelming. They are a tide, an endless flood of shadowy figures. For every one we strike down, more appear, their forms coalescing from the air, drawn by the scent of power and blood.

I fight with a cold fury, my angelic heritage and fallen grace merging into a deadly combination.

My black-light blade sings through the air, cleaving through shadowy limbs, dispelling dark energies.

But the battle is taking its toll. My reserves are dwindling, my wings ache with every beat, and the metallic tang of my own blood is sharp on my tongue.

A chilling premonition washes over me, colder than any Collector’s touch. This isn’t just a battle for SilverGate. It’s the opening salvo of a war that will determine the fate of far more than just Isolde.

My muscles are heavy as I spin, my blade raised to defend against the creature that has appeared behind me.

But something in her eyes makes me pause.

She smiles, it’s serene, as if there weren’t a bloody battle raging all around us.

She sidesteps around me and practically glides across the courtyard, while I’m still frozen in place.

My eyes track her, and then I’m blown backwards, hitting the blood-soaked ground and breaking my wings in various places.

With a cry of agony, I struggle to catch my breath as a shadow passes over me, once again, freezing me, unable to move except to breathe.