Page 138 of The Nymph Prince

My body had been born for evil. The blood that ran through those veins was not the blood of a man meant to do good in the world.

The reason for my body strengthening and growing larger during the weeks leading up to the battle was clear to me. The magic flowing inside me had craved more power. Craved a stronger vessel that could do more malevolent deeds.

Even if I hadn’t been killed and Haman’s soul hadn’t been placed in my body…I fear I would’ve ended up in the same place; hurting those I loved. Evil didn’t spread all at once. It grew over time. Mine would’ve eventually consumed me.

Ezra approached Lorcan, holding the dagger he’d taken from me.

Stay away from him!

I screamed for it to stop. For all of it to just stop. No one even looked up. I was but a lost spirit, haunting the battleground.

The blade inched toward Lorcan’s throat, and I bellowed my pain.

I cannot see him die.

Reif appeared from the shadows and stabbed Ezra. I watched as he then carried my mate away from the temple and to a small field. Malik and Troy joined them there, and I hovered over them.

I yearned to touch Lorcan’s cheek, to comfort him, as he returned to the cold man again. It was his defense mechanism, replacing his grief with a murderous wrath.

They were going after Haman. But Haman was strong—stronger than I’d ever been. He knew how to use the powers I’d fought against.

“If we all charge him at once, it could buy us a second or two,” Malik said as they formulated a plan. “Troy should stay back.”

“Why me?” Troy questioned, seeming hurt by the suggestion. “My wound is fine! I want to help.”

“Because we need an archer and you’re the best.” Malik touched Troy’s arm, and although small, the gesture said a hundred words. “If Haman freezes those of us who charge him, you’ll be the only one able to stop him.”

Troy trembled. He had a heavy burden to bear.

I was abruptly tugged in the other direction.

No! Take me back!

Was I being forced to move on?

I flew over a field of bodies. It was quiet with only the occasional whimper of a dying man. The majority of the dark mages had been killed. There were only a remaining few who continued to fight. The humans and merfolk fought with everything they had, and it was certain to be a victory.

Only Haman had the power to freeze men and make them kill themselves. The rest of the dark mages could send blasts of energy and knock over their opponents, and some could send swords and arrows through the air, but the warriors had learned to block those attacks.

Their near-victory meant very little, if Haman lived. Once he pulled himself back together from the loss of Ezra, he’d start to use his powers.

I approached the ground, having no control of my movements. The blood-stained grass drew closer, and I tried to steer myself away to no avail.

Men stared up at the night sky with dead eyes. Limbs were missing, bodies were mangled, and it was a sight that would never leave me. I smelled nothing, for I had no nose. But if I could, I knew it’d smell of death and blood. I passed the warriors, most of them human but some of them were from Avalontis.

I recognized a few of them.

One was an older male, probably having fought in numerous past battles. I’d never spoken to him, but I’d seen him training on occasion. He’d been an unstoppable force when I’d watched him. Whoever had taken him down had done so with great skill. Or with magic, as was the most likely reason.

Another fallen warrior was a woman with short black hair. Her name was Carissa, I believed. She’d said I was handsome once when Lorcan and I’d walked through the barracks, and when I’d blushed, she had laughed. Her laugh had been loud and hearty, making me smile. Such a shame that she’d never laugh again.

The last face was the hardest to see. He was a boy no older than eighteen. It’d been his first time going to battle. His wide, lifeless eyes reflected the fear he’d felt in his final moments, and seeing them would’ve broken my heart had I had one.

I was pulled toward a man several feet away. He was on his stomach, so I couldn’t see his face, but his leather armor indicated that he was a merman of Avalontis. He looked young.

Closer I drifted to him, guided by an unseen force. And closer still.

He was breathing!