Page 70 of Realm of Crows (Wings of Ink #5)

Fifty-Two

Herinor

Pain lances up my spine, blazing white fire, as I leap into the tear in the world, Ephegos firmly pressed against my front. The knife in my side scrapes against bone, slicing through more flesh with each heartbeat of forcing Ephegos along, his hand clasping the hilt, pushing deeper, still.

“You’ll die for this, Herinor,” the male hisses as he struggles to break free from me, but I’m determined.

No matter the cost, I will rectify what I broke.

I will end this once and for all. For the king and queen who deserve to live so they can lead what’s left of our people to a better future.

For the female with fire in her veins, who I’ll never get to share that future with.

For all of those I’ve wronged and all of those more deserving of happiness, I’ll end this.

“I am already dying.” My voice is weak, but my grip on Ephegos doesn’t falter as he strains against it.

Wind whips my face, eyes watering at the force of the tossing darkness rushing past us. My heart pounds in my throat, in my ears, drowning out the thundering of the void swallowing us whole.

If this is Hel’s realm, it’s not the peaceful place I’d always hoped I’d one day find. It’s loud and full of pain, of screams and the stench of blood and steel, just as the place I left behind.

Icy air kisses the back of my neck, spreading across my scalp, my blood-caked hands.

Then we’re falling.

Streaks of gray and brown flicker past my vision, a blur of glittering white blending into the mix. A scream tears from my lungs as we hit the bloodied, frozen ground amidst a raging battle. Snow-capped mountains surround the killing field. A killing field that isn’t the one we left.

Stunned by the impact, my fingers uncurl from Ephegos’s leathers, allowing him to slip out of my grasp and punch me hard in the face while he draws his knife out of my side.

My teeth clang, and blood leaks from my lips, but the pain is nothing compared to the knife wound where the blood now spilling freely promises less than a minute of consciousness before Hel will claim me. But I’m grinning.

With a teeth-gritted smile, I reach for the dagger still sheathed at my hip and ram it into the side of Ephegos’s throat so fast he doesn’t stand a chance at blocking me .

“ Not in this world, ” I quote him, and as if he’s noticing it only now, his eyes fall on the snowy peaks enclosing the battlefield, on the intricate, foreign armor the soldiers now staring at the two males who’ve plunged from the purpling skies above are wearing, fight forgotten.

A silver streak of lightning needles down from the clouds, striking the bloodied soil beside me, and a whisper of darkness and starlight strokes against my shoulder just as my vision starts to blur and my strength is leaving me.

“Come,” Hel hums, darkness slithering from the sustained silver gash in the world waiting for me to step through, but I can’t.

A river of crimson slides down Ephegos’s front, soaking his leathers, as he grapples for breath. He’s as close to fading as I am, but I’m not done: Not yet.

With a final surge of strength, I shove the traitor into the fingers of lightning and watch him tumble into the darkness.

Then the world slips away, and I fall into darkness myself. Only, this darkness, I won’t come back from.