Page 92 of The Curse of Gods (The Curse of Saints #3)

Liam had never much considered the end of the world. He’d learned long ago that focusing on the worst-case scenario never did him any favors, and so, he’d tried to keep his attention on the present.

Perhaps he should have spent more time contemplating it. Perhaps it would have prepared him for what he was seeing now.

This wind…it was as if the Ventaleh had become a living thing, and it was intent on making its wrath known. It tore through the mountains, brutal and terrifying, its howl more of a scream.

It ripped trees from their roots and sent Liam staggering, the vicious whip of the air tearing at his fighting leathers. And in the midst of it all, the sky came to life, shimmering and cracked and…

Falling.

What in the hells is this?

Had Evie torn open the veil? Had the gods intervened?

Most of the battle seemed to pause, as if everyone on the field had frozen in the face of a larger enemy. Even the Kakos force was staring at the sky not with glee, but with fright. Whatever they had anticipated victory looking like, they were clearly not prepared for this.

Liam stumbled again as the ground shook beneath him so violently he feared not just portions of the Wall behind him might fall, but the whole structure, formidable as it was, could perish entirely.

Soldiers were running, some toward the structure, some away, and he could not tell who was who in the pandemonium. He’d lost Azul in the melee. And still, in the center of the field, fighting continued.

Liam staggered, his breath shallow and sharp. A hand gripped his arm, tugging him forward.

“Keep moving son,” Callias Veliri ordered.

There was blood on his face, fresh and wet.

“You need a healer,” Liam rasped. His ears were ringing, the shouting from the battle not helping, but he didn’t need his hearing to detect the weakness in Callias’s voice. He could see it on the man’s face, his olive skin turned a sickly shade of gray.

Liam ducked under Callias’s arm, wedging his shoulder beneath him to keep him standing. “You need to get inside the palace gates,” Liam tried again. “You need a healer.”

“No time.” Callias nodded toward the battle that continued to rage. Liam could just make out Mathias Denier swinging his sword. “They need organization.”

Liam didn’t know if the wind was dying down or he’d simply become accustomed to its roar. But Callias’s words were clearer now, Liam’s focus sharpening as the ground seemed to steady.

A pained sound escaped from Callias’s tightly pressed lips, his knees buckling. Liam caught his weight, his shoulder sliding further beneath his arm as he forced Callias to stay standing.

They’d never make it inside the Wall.

“Healer!” he yelled as he tried to drag Callias further. But Callias, it seemed, had given Aya her stubbornness. He dug his heels in, using the last of strength to keep Liam from retreating toward the palace gates.

“The hells are you doing?” Liam gritted out, anger sharpening his voice. But he knew Callias could hear the beseeching beneath it.

Callias blinked at him, his brown eyes going hazy. “They need you,” he breathed.

“And Aya needs you,” Liam seethed.

This time, Liam couldn’t prevent the man from falling to his knees. Liam went with him, his hands scrambling to regain their purchase on him. His wrapped his arm around him, his palm landing in something warm and wet.

“Callias…” Liam stammered. Blood soaked his skin from where he’d touched Callias’s side. Callias’s head tipped back so he could meet Liam’s gaze, but his eyes…his eyes were unfocused.

“Tell her,” he breathed, “that I love her.”

“Godsdammit. Healer!”

Callias lifted a trembling hand and patted Liam’s cheek with fatherly affection. “The realm,” he uttered, his head lolling toward the battle. “The realm.”

A reminder.

Or perhaps, a command.

Callias went still in Liam’s arms, his gaze vacant as he stared at the war that raged on. Liam choked back a pained sound, but he lowered Callias to the ground, his fingers gentle as he closed the man’s eyes.

And then he stood, his back to the Wall as he faced the disorganized lines of soldiers. Liam shoved forward, pushing through the soldiers trying to get their bearings. “Re-form the lines!” he yelled, his voice wet but strong. “They fear the gods more than we do! Re-form the lines!”

His call echoed down the lines, again and again until the gaps were filled as Midlandians and Talans and Milsaions and Trahirians united, no longer divided by army or rank or country.

Relief stole his breath as he saw Azul among the wolves dotted within the lines, but he didn’t have time to linger in its lightness.

Liam glanced toward the Wall.

The wind had died down, and his voice carried as he yelled, “Archers load!”

For a brief moment, he wondered if any remained. But then, one by one, they raced forward from where they’d retreated, the Wall now steady beneath their feet. They nocked their arrows, the Caeli doing what they could to assist as Liam called for their release.

The sky above them flashed with brilliant light, and still, they persisted, pushing the Kakos troops back toward the town. A new group of soldiers had joined the fight—Trahirians, if their flag was any indication—and they pinned the Kakos soldiers between their unit and Liam’s.

“It’s healing!” someone shouted. Liam’s gaze darted up toward the sky.

Those webs of light…they were closing.

“She did it,” he breathed, pride swelling in his chest. Pride, and fear, because he did not know how she had done it, and gods, he hoped it had not been at the cost of her life, too.

Liam shoved his fear aside, his focus narrowing in on the task at hand.

“Advance!” he yelled, his sword flashing in the light of the veil. “Advance for Eteryium!”

The soldiers met his command with a roar, a great wave of momentum moving them forward as they slammed into the Kakos lines.

Slowly, they moved forward as one army—one realm—against one enemy.

“We have them on the retreat!” Liam called. “Advance!”

Step by step, they did, backing the Kakos soldiers toward the Trahirians fighting at their flank.

And they kept going, kept fighting, until every last Kakos soldier still standing laid down their sword.