Page 67

Leon

F or a few, terrible moments, pain pierces my mind. High-pitched and sharp as a knife lancing through my ears. It punctures every thought except for my focus on Sophos’s malevolent stare. He must be responsible for this agony.

Then something overtakes it, drowning out the sound stabbing at my brain—Hyllus’s voice, soft and encouraging.

“ Don’t worry, captain, I can block his magic. Just make sure you get the bastard. ”

A gentle melody plays in my ears as I tighten the hand on my sword, regaining control of myself. Sophos still stalks toward me, holding his blade low, but he pauses when he sees me smile at him.

“I’m afraid we’re a bit used to your tricks by now,” I say and lunge at him.

He’s surprisingly fast for a human, graceful too, parrying and attempting strikes with impressive precision.

He’s practiced—but not experienced. That much is obvious when I surprise him with a block that allows me to spin my sword around and jab him in the chest with the pommel.

He goes stumbling backward, and I step back from his flailing blade.

“Come on,” I call after him, almost starting to enjoy myself. “You’d think you’d do a bit better with the gods on your side, wouldn’t you?”

His face twists in anger, and he charges at me. But I’m ready. As we clash, I let the metal of my blade slide along the shaft of his sword and catch against the handle. It throws his grip off balance, and as he tries to straighten, I bring my sword swinging down, connecting with his wrist.

His hand hits the grass with a wet thud, and Sophos screams, staring down at the bleeding stump like he can’t quite believe it.

“ There’s more ,” Hyllus’s voice rings in my ears as I kick the bearer’s sword away. “ The acolytes are here. ”

I look up to see a crowd of yellow-robed acolytes chasing after the retreating rebels, picking them off with their dual powers.

It’ll quickly become a bloodbath unless the rebels have someone to cover them—or at least to make the ground dangerous enough for the acolytes to stop their magical attacks.

My distraction is enough for Sophos. When I glance his way, he’s sprinting back toward Bastion, just a glimpse of red robe disappearing round the corner.

At least I got a piece of him , I think grimly, turning away from the pale hand lying abandoned on the ground.

Sprinting after the acolytes and rebels, I reach my magic into the earth. Its tendrils stretch out, burrowing into the cracks of the grassland, forming a band between the members of the Hand and the Temple.

I smile again as the ground begins to shake.

Kestis looks like any old town in the moonlight. I suppose that’s why the rebels picked it, and I find myself wondering exactly how many bases and safehouses they have planted in inconspicuous places across the country. Enough to wage a small war against the Temple and not be wiped out, I suppose.

It’s actually pretty impressive. I think maybe I’m warming to them after I saved so many of their lives tonight.

My power was enough to slow the Temple down at Bastion, and most of the rebels made it out of the valley. The problem was that the Temple sent in hunting parties after them, and my soldiers and I had to help them evade more clerics before we could safely make our way to the rendezvous point.

On the way we found Alastor, blind with worry, wondering why we weren’t back by now.

He settled down once we were reunited and Hyllus and Mal assured him that Harman’s wrecked shoulder wouldn’t kill him.

I’m not sure what I unleashed when I asked my friend to get to know the rebel leader, but that question was quickly overtaken by his news about Eryx.

Eryx—that wonderful, cantankerous man. I saw Damia, in particular, fight to hide her tears, her serpent Barb winding comfortingly around her arm. The pair had bonded in their cynicism, both hardened by a world that had taken too much from them early in life.

He’d promised me they would keep Ana safe, and he kept his word. I can only pray that now he’s living it up in the celestial realm with his wife and child by his side.

Right now, all I want is Ana by my side too, to hold her again and smell her jasmine scent. I know only that might ease the pain of this grief and let me shed the tension of battle. Without her safely in my sights, I can’t accept any form of victory.

“It’s just up here,” Esther murmurs, pointing to a little cottage.

My gut immediately twists, telling me something’s wrong. I can spot it even in the gloom—the house is like a face with the eyes missing.

“Where are the windows?”

I dismount, sprinting toward the house and confirming my fears. The glass has been shattered. Smashed inward, not outward, so that the shards litter the dusty floor inside.

From here, I can see a body lying in the doorway between the kitchen and the back room.

I throw myself through the empty window frame, my voice hoarse with fear.

“Ana!” I shout. Relief floods through me when I see the too-still body on the floor is male.

I leap over it, only to find three more corpses piled in the hallway.

My heart beats hard enough to break my ribs.

I bend to check their faces—all members of the Hand.

Their eyes are blank and unseeing, but otherwise they look untouched.

There’s no blood, no sign of magical injury. They’re positioned as if they were heading toward one of the rooms, but that room is empty except for a rumpled bed and two more rebel bodies.

I search every inch of the house, tearing it apart. Only when my soldiers wrestle me onto an empty chair can I accept what I sensed from the moment I saw the broken windows.

Ana is gone.