Page 47

CHAPTER

FORTY-SIX

Oralia

I pressed the tip of Typhon’s dagger to the seam of one white wing within his armor.

He froze, wings flaring wide as if it might shake me off, but I only pressed harder, beads of blood appearing across the gold. What was it Samarah had said what felt like centuries ago when we had first met?

Horrible thing, to be stripped of one’s wings. It is the easiest way to subdue a timeless god, you know.

To rip the wings from a timeless god was a tragedy. That was why Typhon had done it to Ren centuries ago.

The ground rumbled beneath our feet, but I paid it no mind, not even when in my peripheral vision I caught sight of a whole band of Aetheran warriors frozen in place, eyes wide and horrified, with Samarah in their midst. A spray of rocks and earth flew high, molding, twisting, and changing before plummeting back to the earth in the form of her demon Hezanah.

The blade sank another inch into Typhon’s skin. Around us, his men fought wildly, consumed by the flames Zayne conjured or falling prey to Samarah’s pet throwing soldiers into the air as if they were treats for the taking.

Typhon’s hands flew back as if to stop me, but he was impeded by the span of his own wings. His father’s ring caught my attention, the glittering gem of Daeymon’s blood taking on an unearthly glow.

“You kept me weak,” I gritted through my teeth as my blade sliced through a tendon. His rasp of pain was a balm upon the raw spot in my chest where the scared child within me still knelt on his throne room floor. “You kept me afraid like one might keep a pig before it is ready to be slaughtered.”

Another slice. Another gurgle. Ren fought efficiently beside us, allowing me room with Typhon.

“I think I would like to see your fear.” I dragged the blade down.

He cried out as his wing fell at our feet, and he pitched forward onto his knees.

“Perhaps, through this, you can begin to understand what it means to truly suffer.”

I gripped his remaining wing, slicing down cleanly through bone. He jerked. His scream was loud enough to rattle my teeth and sweeter than the softest melody. But when I wrenched the last of the sinew and muscle away, throwing the feathery white mass to the side, he only reached one hand forward toward his golden sword.

To find a delicate foot placed upon it.

I could barely hear my gasp over the fighting, but I thought perhaps Typhon made a similar noise.

“Hello, boy,” Asteria murmured, gazing down upon Typhon as if he were the child she had once known.

Typhon’s hand jerked back as if burned. Her silvery wings glittered as she stretched them wide. A gilded soldier rushed through Ren’s defenses, and before he could reach me, my shadows snapped out, slicing his head clean from his body. He was a good few feet from me when his body tumbled to the ground, but I only had eyes for Typhon.

“Asteria,” Typhon whispered in a rasp, pressing up to his knees with shaking arms.

Asteria toed the hilt of the sword, flipping it off to the side and out of his reach. “I have no taste for war or for the violence you seek. I merely wished to gaze upon you one last time before your magic was sent back to the world to begin again—hopefully in someone better suited.” She leaned down until her mouth brushed the shell of his ear. “Death is a mercy I am not sure you deserve.”

Her lips brushed his cheek, fingertips passing over his hair, before she launched herself into the sky with those silvery wings. Typhon stared, slack-jawed, at her retreating form before he unsteadily rose to his feet, laughing bitterly.

“You— You do not have the power to kill me, girl,” he wheezed as he turned to face me but it was clear he was rattled, that Asteria had unseated him.

I smiled, weighing the dagger in my hand. His father’s ring glimmered on his finger, reminding me I should not use my shadow magic for fear he would take it. Around us, the cries of the fallen swelled to a fever pitch, dirt and dust mixing within the mist, tendrils of it winding around my legs and shoulders. The scent of death was everywhere, cloying and sickening.

One step forward, and he matched it. Then another. Another. He reached for me, wide hands going for my throat, but I slashed at his hands, metal wrenching through leather and bone sending the cursed ring flying off into the mud. Blood sprayed across my face, but I did not move to wipe it away before I sent a wreath of flames forward to twine around his neck.

His sunlight exploded from his skin, working to slice through the fire only to find no purchase. This was not the darkness he could dissipate. My free hand clenched into a fist as I drove the dagger into his belly.

He roared, swiping out wildly. Knuckles caught my chin, snapping my head to the side, and I stumbled. But my flames did not flicker. Blood exploded from my mouth, but I only turned with a smile to spit it across his face.

Typhon screamed as I lifted my hands, placing them over his cheekbones.

Black veins crept up his neck, spiderwebbing across his cheeks. Here was the true monster I had grown up with, the facade tarnished until I could see him clearly. And I would never forgive him, regardless of how I knew it would haunt me. But I would try my damnedest to forget.

“Now is the time of reckoning.”

My hands pressed to his face.

His gold eyes widened, the inky veins spreading out across his skin. The cry of agony on his lips was short-lived as his body twisted. The sword in his grip clattered to the ground, and I dropped my hands from his face as his skin curled into ash.

The world went silent. Typhon’s body cracked and fell as his magic was swept up into the wind and carried off into the sky. But I could not find relief in the sight, only some maddening lack of satisfaction, some wish for his blood to coat my hands.

I might have screamed—perhaps I did, because I was spun in place, tugged forward into a wide chest. The scent of sandalwood and ash filled my lungs, and I cried out again, clutching at Ren’s tunic, my knees buckling beneath me.

“He is gone,” he murmured, hand stroking my hair. “You are free.”

Free. I did not know the meaning of the word. But I clung to Ren, all the same, savoring the feel of his true body against mine. All around us the battle continued to rage, Typhon’s men unaware of his destruction. But the fighting did not touch us for this brief moment, not as Ren drew back to peer into my eyes, his thumbs brushing against the dirt on my cheeks, mixed with my blood.

Far off, someone yelled in triumph, and I thought it sounded like Gunthar. Another cry echoed the first, until around us golden soldiers fell to their knees, their swords upraised in defeat.

“We are free.” Ren leaned down and covered my mouth with his.

The kiss was not merely a kiss. It was a revelation. The moment his lips touched mine, my heart cracked open. Power flooded my body as if light was filling my veins, sliding through the cracks in my soul until none remained, filling those lost parts of me. I gasped against his mouth, long-forgotten warmth spilling into my chest with each pass of his lips over mine, each swipe of his tongue.

And when he pulled back, he wiped at my tears with a smile, tracks shining down his cheeks. He was so beautiful with his night-dark wings spread protectively behind him. His dark blue eyes filled with so much love it made my chest ache.

“I missed you,” I breathed, raising a shaking hand to cup his cheek.

His forehead met mine, and all around us, the sound of fighting faded, not from magic, but from the sweeping tide of victory and the endless cacophony of death. Even now, I could sense the souls gathering on the far side of the river, waiting for Vakarys to shepherd them home. But such things could wait a while longer, I thought, as we breathed in each other’s scents and reveled in the bond thrumming between us.

Ren leaned into the touch, cradling my palm. “And I missed you, my heart.”