Page 49 of Reaper’s Ruin (Reaper’s Ruin Trilogy #1)
Shouts echoed through the hall, the pounding of armored boots growing louder. Lord Marwyn’s body lay sprawled in the doorway, my dagger still protruding from his chest. Blood pooled beneath him, spreading across the polished stone floor.
“Run,” I told Soraya, already moving toward the door. “Stay behind me.”
We burst into the corridor just as a squadron of guards rounded the corner, their faces registering shock at the sight of Lord Marwyn’s body. Recognition followed immediately, then rage.
“Seize them!” the captain shouted, drawing his sword. “They’ve murdered Lord Marwyn!”
I pushed Soraya behind me, scanning our surroundings for escape routes.
The only way out was through the guards.
I pulled the dagger from Lord Marwyn’s chest and charged.
The first guard raised his sword, but I was already inside his reach, driving my blade into the gap beneath his helmet.
He fell without a sound. I claimed his sword, the weight familiar in my hand, awakening muscle memory from a lifetime ago when I’d been a warrior defending a kingdom.
“Stay close,” I called to Soraya as I engaged the next two guards. Their movements seemed slow, predictable—martial training was no match for my skills.
Steel clashed against steel, the sound reverberating through the hallway. I fought with cold precision, each strike calculated, each movement efficient. One guard fell, then another. But more were coming.
“This way!” Soraya called, pointing to a side passage I hadn’t noticed. Smart girl.
We sprinted down the narrower corridor, the sounds of pursuit close behind. My hand gripped hers tightly, keeping her at my side as we fled.
We rounded a corner and found ourselves in a grand hall—high ceilings, marble columns, enormous windows overlooking the city below. Under different circumstances, it might have been beautiful. Now, it was just another battlefield.
And we weren’t alone.
My stomach dropped. Not guards. Not soldiers.
“Storm Warriors,” I growled, recognizing the distinctive armor of the elite guards emerging through the far doors.
Unlike the regular palace guards, the Storm Warriors were trained battle mages who had survived the Storm Court’s brutal trials.
Each could summon and control lightning, wind and storm elements at will.
They were the most dangerous fighters in the Storm Court—and there were six of them barring our escape.
“Surrender,” one called, his voice amplified by the hall’s acoustics. Lightning crackled in his hand. “You cannot escape.”
No human could survive their shocks. I’d learned that back when I was alive and they had torn through the humans with ease. Only Storm fae were impervious to shocks, and in a matter of seconds, these warriors could eradicate us.
But I didn’t matter anymore. Only she mattered. And though I couldn’t slice down six Storm Warriors before their bolts of lightning tore through me, I could hold them off and give her a chance to flee .
“Stay behind me,” I murmured to Soraya. “When I engage them, run for that door.” I nodded toward a smaller exit to our right.
She shook her head fiercely. “I’m not leaving you.”
Before I could argue, the first bolt of lightning arced across the room, aimed directly at us.
Something primal awakened inside me. Without conscious thought, without understanding how, my Veilwings erupted from my back, unfurling with explosive force. I wrapped them around Soraya, shielding her as the lightning struck.
The impact was like being hit by a battering ram, but the wings absorbed it, the electricity dissipating harmlessly into shadow. I felt the power course through me, raw and untamed, ancient and familiar.
I wasn’t just a man with a sword anymore. I was Death again. And these fools had threatened what was mine.
With a growl that rumbled through my chest, I launched myself forward, wings extending like living weapons. They sliced through the air and through flesh with equal ease, leaving bloody arcs in their wake. I moved with supernatural speed, a dark blur among the stunned Storm Warriors.
Their lightning crackled harmlessly against my wings as I deflected each blow. Their blades found only empty air where I had been a heartbeat before.
One warrior fell, his chest torn open by my wing’s edge. Another screamed as I drove my stolen sword through his throat. A third managed to land a blow against my arm, but the pain only fueled my rage.
This wasn’t the controlled, precise fighting of moments ago. This was primal, ferocious—a slaughter.
In the span of heartbeats, four warriors lay dead or dying. The remaining two backed away, fear finally registering on their faces. One turned to flee. The other raised his hands, summoning a storm of lightning that filled the hall with blinding light.
I launched myself to Soraya, enveloping her in the protection of my wings, curling my body over her as the lightning assaulted me. I heard her soft, scared cries as she huddled beneath me. They only drove deeper the raw need to protect her.
I would always keep her safe.
Even with my shadowy shield, I still felt the sharp pains of the merciless bolts coursing through me, but I clenched my jaw, muscles tightening as I held fast keeping her safe below me.
When the last of the strikes ceased, in one swoop I unfurled my wings from her shield and propelled myself forward with unnatural speed.
I crossed the distance in the blink of an eye, appearing before the startled warrior as his lightning faded.
One slash of my sword, and his head separated from his shoulders.
The hall fell silent except for my ragged breathing. Six elite warriors lay dead around me, their blood pooling on the marble floor. My wings remained extended, shadow energy rippling along their edges like smoke over water.
“Rhyker,” Soraya’s voice pulled me back from the edge of battle-rage. “More are coming.”
Shouts echoed from the corridor we’d fled, reinforcements responding to the commotion.
“Let’s go,” I said, forcing my wings to fold against my back.
They didn’t vanish as they had last time I’d somehow willed them to protect her when the Voltmauler had attacked.
My instincts, this primal power I seemed to be able to will for only her, knew she wasn’t safe yet.
Instead of dissipating, they remained, covering my back like a cloak of living shadow.
We ran for the far doors, bursting through into another corridor. The palace was a maze, and we had no clear route to freedom. All I knew was that we needed to get down and out .
As we rounded another corner, we encountered another group of guards—regular soldiers this time, not Storm Warriors, but numerous enough to be dangerous.
“Give me a weapon,” Soraya demanded, her eyes fixed on the approaching threat.
“What? No—”
“I’m not going to stand here helpless while you fight,” she insisted. “Give me something!”
There was no time to argue. I handed her the dagger, keeping the sword for myself. She gripped it with surprising confidence, dropping into a defensive stance.
As we prepared for battle, my wings unfurled again, stretching wide and blocking the light behind me.
The faces of the opposing guard twisted with confusion as I stood in that hall, consuming the space with my fury.
The living didn’t know Reapers existed. Maybe in lore, but not the cold reality now standing before them.
The only time a Reaper was seen was just before a soul was extinguished.
Now I was legend made real promising death with nothing but a stare.
“What the fuck is that?” one shouted.
They pressed tighter together, eyes darting back and forth as they tried to make the choice between life and death. Run or fight.
“Kill him!” one brave, or perhaps just stupid, guard shouted, charging toward me with his sword raised.
After a moment, the other guards roared forward behind him, and we met them head-on. My wings sliced through the first wave. I fought with sword and shadow, cleaving a path forward. To my surprise, Soraya held her own, moving with unexpected grace as she fought off a soldier that had slipped by.
Rage at seeing her attacked roiled inside my chest, and my wings carried me to her in a breath, ripping through the armor and flesh of the man who’d dared to threaten her.
He fell into a bloody heap at my feet.
“Where did you learn to fight?” I asked as we pressed forward.
“Three years of self-defense classes after a stalker incident in college,” she replied, her eyes wide and lit up like, dare I say, she enjoyed this. “Plus, I think some of it’s instinct. Storm Court heritage, maybe?”
Whatever the source, her ability was impressive. But these were trained warriors, and I didn’t want to press our luck, so I surged forward and cleared a path with a sweep of my wings, leaving the two remaining guards blocking our escape dead at our feet.
The corridor opened into a grand staircase.
We descended quickly, cutting down any who stood in our way.
My wings responded to my needs as easily as breathing, spreading out behind me when danger was greatest, then receding to a soft shadow at my back when the threat subsided.
They responded instinctively to my need to protect Soraya.
We reached the lower levels, the smell of horses and hay indicating we were near the stables. Freedom was close.
But so were our pursuers.
A bolt of lightning streaked past my head, so close I felt my hair stand on end. I turned to see a Storm Warrior at the top of the stairs, hands raised for another attack. This one was aimed directly at Soraya.
I lunged toward her, but the bolt of lightning was faster. It struck, illuminating her silhouette in a blinding flash of blue and white.
My breath hitched, agony tearing through my heart as I waited for her to fall. A direct hit would be fatal to most, and debilitating even if she survived it.
But she stood there, unharmed.