Page 64 of Reaper’s Ruin (Reaper’s Ruin Trilogy #1)

Behind him strode in our two other allies—Skorn, a mountain of a man with dark skin, a deep contrast to the white beard and matching white hair twisted in rows that descended down his back.

Ice clung to his armor like a second skin.

His hands glowed with frost magic that crystallized the air around him.

Beside him came Lorien, tall and lean, his sharp blue eyes radiating the danger he promised anyone who moved against him. Water coiled around his muscular arms like living serpents. It shimmered with magic—fluid and unpredictable—ready to strike or shield in a heartbeat.

These weren’t just Reapers. These were Court Warriors. Trained killers. Ancient, powerful, and now risking it all—for us.

“Hello, love,” Lorien said to Soraya, his smile widening as he looked between us. “So, this is the girl we’re all going to die for? I can see why Death has a soft spot.”

Skorn eyed our opponents with a predatory grin. “Judging by this sorry turnout, I don’t think we’ll be the ones doing the dying today.” He frowned. “Shame. I was actually looking forward to getting the fuck out of this place. Oh well. The Veil Lords can reap me after.”

“Less talking, more fighting,” Taelon suggested as more Reapers appeared at the end of the corridor. “Get her to the courtyard,” Taelon said to me. “We’ll hold them here.”

I tried to swallow the guilt I had at the risk they were taking for us.

Even if they survived this, they’d become outlaws like me.

And how we’d ever hide from the eyes the Veil Lords had everywhere, I didn’t know.

But right now, I couldn’t think about them, their risks, their lives now likely forfeit.

“You’d better survive and find us where we agreed,” I said to Taelon.

He winked. “Don’t you worry about us. We’ve all been in worse scrapes than this. We’ll be there.”

I nodded my thanks, grabbing Soraya’s hand. “Stay close,” I warned her as we broke into a run toward the open courtyard .

Behind us, elemental magic exploded against shadow energy as my unlikely allies engaged our pursuers.

Flames roared, ice crackled, water crashed against stone.

The very foundations of the Umbral Keep seemed to shake with the force of their battle.

I risked a glance back to see more court warriors arrive.

Flames, ice and water, flew from each direction.

A Sylvan Fae flung a wall of dirt toward my allies, blinding them for a moment in a cloud.

A lightning bolt lit up the space behind us, and I knew a Storm Fae had entered the fray.

Part of me burned to turn back, to fight beside the allies I’d only just begun to trust. Leaving them felt like betrayal—like running from the battle instead of charging into the fray, as I’d done a thousand times before.

But Soraya was the mission. She was the reason for everything—my everything—and they’d made their choice to fight for her, just as I had.

And I would let every realm collapse, every ally fall, every goddamn star burn to ash before I let anyone lay a hand on her.

We burst into the courtyard, the massive gates of the Keep visible across the open expanse. So close. Just a few hundred yards of exposed ground before I could slice out through shadow and whisk her far away from danger.

But the courtyard wasn’t empty. A dozen Reapers stood between us and the gates, their attention divided between the commotion inside and their duty to guard the exit. The moment they spotted us running, they moved to intercept, scythes materializing in their hands.

“Hold on to me,” I told Soraya, gathering her against my side as my wings expanded to their full span.

I launched toward them, my wings not meant for true flight but capable of carrying us in powerful leaps. I crashed into them with a force that sent them flying in all directions as I charged for the gates.

So close.

If we could just get to the gate...

More Reapers converged from all directions now, the alarm fully raised. I fought with one arm around Soraya, her small frame clinging to me as my scythe cleaved through any who came too close. But there were too many. For every one I cut down, two more appeared.

A scythe grazed my back, tearing through leather and skin. Another nearly caught Soraya, missing by inches as I twisted us away. We were surrounded, the gates tormenting me with their close proximity but it may as well have been a mile.

Then through the press of bodies came a familiar trio—Taelon, Skorn, and Lorien, fighting their way toward us with elemental fury. They carved a path through the Reapers, their combined powers creating a momentary clearing.

“What the fuck are you still doing here?” Taelon shouted, flames erupting from his hands to drive back our attackers. “Get her out of here!”

“I’m fucking trying!” I shouted back, fending off another Reaper who almost clipped my throat.

With Soraya still clutched tight against me, I launched us forward again, my wings carrying us in a mighty leap toward freedom. We landed just yards from the gates, the barrier of the Keep’s magic palpable now, a shimmering presence that distorted the air itself.

Then a familiar voice cut through the chaos. “Death!”

I turned to see Sevrin, his wounds leaking shadow but healing fast, unbowed, pushing through the melee. Before I could react, he flung something—not at me, but at Soraya. A bolas weapon, its weighted ends trailing shadow energy, wrapped around her legs, yanking her from my grasp.

She fell hard, crying out as Sevrin dragged her backward across the rough terrain. Rage exploded within me—raw, primal, unstoppable. My vision narrowed to just him.

The man who dared to touch what was mine.

I moved faster than I ever had, my body a blur of shadow and vengeance.

He dropped the weapon holding onto Soraya, and she rolled to her knees, struggling to free the grip it had on her legs.

My scythe sang through the air, meeting Sevrin’s raised blade with an explosion of purple veil flame.

He met me blow for blow, our speed and strength matched with each strike.

“You’re not getting out of here, Death. True death is all that awaits you. And once I kill you, I’m going straight for her.”

I caught her out of the corner of my eye, climbing to her feet as I positioned myself between them. Her eyes met mine, and the look in them—the love—ignited something inside me. A fury hotter than veil fire roared through my veins.

I turned that fire on Sevrin.

He met my first strike with a sneer, blades clashing in a shower of purple sparks.

“I’m going to enjoy ending you, Death,” he spat, scythe locking with mine.

“I want her to watch you fall. I want her— everyone —to see you’re not the most powerful Reaper in the Shadowveil. That title should be mine.”

He pressed forward, his rage and envy driving his every strike, the purple glow of our clashing scythes lighting the charged air around us.

His technique was admirable. His skill, undeniable. He was strong. Fast. Brutal. Powerful.

But not more powerful than me .

I drove him back with a flurry of savage blows, my scythe an extension of everything I felt—my rage... my love for her... my need to protect what was mine.

I wasn’t just fighting for my life. I was fighting for hers.

Sevrin snarled as he barely deflected a strike that would have ended him. “I won’t let you win. You always got everything—the power, the praise, the respect . But it should’ve been mine!”

His jealousy made him reckless. But I fought with clarity, with purpose.

And I was done holding back.

I struck again and again, each blow fueled by pure violence, pure love. Then I slammed the hilt of my weapon into his gut. “You could never be me, Sevrin. And when I’m done, you’ll be nothing but shadows in the wind—forgotten.”

Sevrin staggered, coughed, but didn’t fall. He twisted low and slashed across my side. The blade bit deep. Shadow spilled from me like smoke.

I didn’t slow.

The pain only anchored me deeper in the fight.

“I was always better than you,” he hissed. “They just never saw it.”

I ducked beneath his swing, spun, and drove a crushing strike into his shoulder. His scythe arm gave way with a sickening crunch.

“They saw you,” I said coldly. “Jealous. Small. Weak.”

With a roar, I surged forward. One blow cracked his scythe. Another shattered it.

His defense fell with it.

Before he could recover, I struck again—my blade cleaving through armor, through shadow-forged flesh, and down to bone black as pressed night.

His eyes widened in disbelief as the killing blow landed .

Shadow burst from the wound like smoke, curling into the air as his form unraveled.

Ending a Reaper wasn’t like destroying a normal soul. There was no flash of light. No pop of release.

He bled—his very essence seeping out in thick plumes of darkness.

His hatred. His ambition.

All of it dissolved into nothing.

“Impossible,” he gasped, staring at me with disbelief as he faded.

“You dared to threaten what was mine,” I growled, kneeling over him as the darkness tore through his dissolving form. Then I rose, voice cold as the void. “And when Death comes for you—he doesn’t miss.”

His last words were a whisper. “The Veil Lords... they’ll never stop hunting you.”

“Then let them come.” My voice was low, steady, final. “Death’s coming for them too.”

I watched the smoke of his soul twist and vanish, drifting away to nothing. I turned back to Soraya, not wasting a second enjoying the end of Sevrin though I wanted to savor the moment.

“Rhyker,” she whimpered, tears filling her eyes as I grabbed her.

“Almost there,” I said, helping her toward the gates. “Just a few more—”

A piercing scream cut through the air, so high and terrible it drove every Reaper to their knees, hands clasped over ears in agony, me included. I looked up to see what I’d feared most—the Sentinels had arrived.