Page 68

My stomach churns as gore and blood fly in every direction as the Cadre clash with the small band of Minotaurs.

Even in training, they never display this level of efficient violence.

Their bodies move fluidly, like water coursing down a steady stream, while striking blow after blow against their foes.

Though the creatures dwarf the Cadre in size and force, the deadly soldiers are stealthy and lethal in their own rights.

Riordan utilizes a series of high-pitched whistles to control the formation of the “death-ravens.” The winged beasts of chaos sail down, swiping their pinions along the bodies of two unsuspecting Minotaurs.

The creatures yelp in pain as round, bubbling holes appear in their flesh from the contact, burning through sinew and bone.

The Nattravnen continue their assault until the Minotaurs are no more than charred heaps on the ground .

Emyr’s blade slices through each foe with ease. However, blood doesn’t drip from Scrisis.

His blade is quite unique indeed.

A creature charges Emyr from behind, attempting to catch him off-guard. As the Minotaur draws closer, Emyr doesn’t turn around as he fights another in front of him. The horrid beast raises its ax above its head—just yards away from Emyr.

My heart lurches in my chest. “Emyr! Behind you!” I scream.

While I’m not sure if he heard me above the chaos, I release a breath when Emyr turns swiftly, blocking the creature’s ax attempts to sever his head from his body.

Emyr’s quickness saved him by mere seconds as he ducks out of the way, tripping the charging Minotaur into one of his companions.

The creature’s ax buries itself into his comrade’s chest. It roars in anger as it watches blood spurt from the friend’s open gash.

Angrily, the burly creature whirls around.

“You’ll pay for his death with your life,” it seethes.

Before the Minotaur can react, Emyr slashes the creature’s throat once with the bloodless sword. I expect to hear the sputtering gurgles of the dying foe. Instead, the Minotaur simply vanishes in a smoky haze.

What in all Celestae is imbued in Emyr’s sword? I ask Saoirse.

His abilities, my dear, she replies. The ancient blade is called Scrisis. One slash of its steel against flesh and you are sent immediately into Eternity.

Holy Celestae.

How was Emyr entrusted with such a blade? I ask.

Siorai gave it to him as a boy, Saoirse replies, as if the answer was obvious.

The clashing sounds of battle redirect my attention to Laisren and Virgil as they work in tandem.

Virgil’s shadows envelop the ghastly creatures while the beast version of Laisren shreds them apart.

They’ve destroyed three in a matter of minutes, and the carnage is unlike anything I’ve witnessed before.

I’ve only seen the violence of the soldiers in Aurelius, but even their torture wasn’t to this magnitude.

The contents within my stomach threaten to rise.

Suddenly, Danté stomps his hooves and whinnies loudly. Apparently, the poor dear doesn’t enjoy watching the scene before us either. “Hush, Danté,” I whisper, stroking the horse’s mane. “Everything will be over soon.” Despite my best efforts, my placating words don’t affect him.

As I whisper to Danté, the sound of Emyr vanquishing another Minotaur cuts through the clearing.

He looks like death incarnate as his gaze roams for another creature, daring them to attack.

However, there aren’t any other creatures charging forward from the shadows of the woods.

Laisren, Virgil, and Riordan also search, but again, no creatures emerge.

I point to the Galrosan soldiers. “Look, Danté,” I coo. “The creatures are gone. There’s nothing to fear, boy.”

My words only make the poor horse whinny louder.

Apparently, I’m not great at taming wild beasts.

The quartet of soldiers walks in our direction, red stains freckling along their faces, as the bloody remains of the Minotaurs lie on the ground.

Emyr smirks as he looks up, only for a wild look to replace it. I furrow my brows as he charges toward me, his shadows spinning like a vortex around him. The rest of the Cadre follow him, waving their arms frantically.

“MAEVA!” Emyr yells.

I grimace, wondering if they’re upset with me for not calming Danté by now. It’s not like I didn’t try to?—

Then, a hot, foul breath rustles my hair at the nape of my neck. Before I can react, a large arm twists around my abdomen, pulling me off of Danté, and against their enormous body. Danté stomps wildly in protest, while the Cadre yell obscene threats at my captor.

“EMY— ”

The creature’s ax rests against my throat, silencing me. The sharp metal bites into my skin as he applies slight pressure. “If your shadows so much as touch me,” the deep, somber voice rumbles, “she dies.”