Page 75 of The Midnight Death Match

Vash launches into the sky, a black streak of fury. Sapphire follows, unleashing a roar that shakes the stone. Flame roils over the rooftops.

“Where’s the breach?” Einar growls, sword in hand.

Lys’s eyes flick across the skyline, narrowing. “There are too many. This isn’t a raid. It’s an execution.”

My pulse spikes. Then I see something at the western wall. The wolves bypass the main barracks entirely, headed straight for the old quarter.

“Mirendel’s heart.” My father raises his sword. “They’re not just trying to kill us, they’re trying to erase everything.”

“Split the forces,” someone official looking commands. “I’ll take the north. You take the west.”

“I’ll hold the inner circle,” Lys says calmly before vanishing like mist.

I run, my sword and my palm glowing brighter than I’ve ever seen. I’ve never been around so many evil fae. It will be a miracle if I survive this. I don’t know who I’ll face first, or if it matters.

If I could handle climbing onto and flying alone on a dragon, then I can do this. Of course, this is far more dangerous. But I’vefaced countless fears and dangers lately and survived every one of them. I can do this too, even if I don’t know how.

A wave of determination rises through me.

They want a huntress? They’re about to get one.

We march toward the western quarter, which is in chaos. Flames lick rooftops, choking the alleys with smoke. Civilians flee in every direction—including up into the air—some herded by wolves, others lost in the madness.

My palm flares bright, then I cut down a wolf with a single strike. Its eyes stare at me. Those will haunt me. The fae weren’t always evil. Something changed them. But it doesn’t matter. They’re destroying Mirendel, which makes them the enemy.

It’s time to focus, fight, and prevent further destruction.

I push deeper, carving a path toward the inner wall, but I can feel something’s wrong.

The air itself feels evil. My palm and sword both glow, though nobody is actually here.

My father catches up, gasping for air. His sword drips red, and more is splashed on his vest and face.

“What’s going on here?” I ask.

“Their essence.” His voice is grim, and he wipes blood from his jaw.

“I don’t understand. Didn’t our swords capture their souls?” I’d been too busy to notice.

“The evil they’ve taken in spills out.”

“Now you sound like Lys.”

“Hey, now.” Lys appears alongside us like smoke, a long gash down his face. His tunic is scorched at the edges, and his blade is also bathed in crimson.

Too much death.

“Explain it to me in basic terms. What is their essence, and how is it different from their souls?”

They exchange a glance before my father puts the task on Lys by darting down a smoking alley, his palm and sword both glowing brighter with each step. In other words, stepping closer to danger. The realization lands like a blade in my chest.

I turn to Lys. “We have to go with him. You can tell me about the essence later. Or not, I don’t care. Let’s go.”

“First I have to tell you something.”

My stomach knots. “What now?”

“Someone on the inside is working with them.”