Page 40 of Zepharali: Lord of the East Winds (Lords of the Wind Book 3)

Lazaar

Lazaar wanted to flee. He wanted to take Zepharali’s hand and run as far away as they could.

With all the training he’d done, night and day, he still wasn’t strong enough to be of any significant help.

He wanted to scream at the uselessness swimming in his core.

The titanesses battled as fiercely as Ares. Swinging their broadswords, spears, and axes with skills honed over hundreds of years.

They were grossly outnumbered, but they left carnage and decapitated heads spewing tainted blood across the battlefield.

The air grew so thick with the stench of decay and brimstone that Lazaar wanted to gag.

Dorema was easy to spot with her all-gold armor, her spear glowing with the power of the suns, as she took the heads off the soulless creatures, dozens at a time.

Her wife was at her back, with her war scythe gripped in both hands, doing just as much damage.

If Lazaar didn’t already know who their mothers were, he’d swear they were the daughters of Athena.

“You are stronger than her. You can’t think it…knowit, Lazaar. Pull on your darkness with all your might. Do not fear it. Embrace it,” his beloved encouraged.

Lazaar closed his eyes, trusting Zepharali to protect him as he conjured the magic not of his warlock blood but of his vampire.

The black magic coursed through his veins and made his skin ripple as if it were alive. His fingertips sparked with electricity before igniting into flames.

Yes, Zepharali’s voice was strong and full of confidence. Let it roar throughout you.

The flames moved up his arms as he tugged harder. He was giving it his all, a low growl emanating from the back of his throat.

Until Zepharali’s love faded into the background and demonic voices began whispering in his ear. Languages of the dark lords and echoes from the Underworld stuck to his core.

The core that held all the passion and admiration he had for his beloved.

A surge of panic shot through him, instantly weakening him.

His flames were doused as if he’d been hit with a bucket of cold water.

“I am the great Lavinia Drach, the most powerful mage of the Coven of Ember Flames!” His mother reared back and aimed her scepter at the clouds, casting a mighty blast of fire across the sky.

Lazaar’s eyes clouded with worry. He couldn’t shoot his flames as far as her.

She screeched an evil laugh at the expression on his face. “Look at you…afraid, feeble, and too weak. Your powers will be mine. I will be the true tribrid.”

Lazaar gripped Zepharali’s shoulders.

“And your beloved Titan of the East will die first, along with his suns.” She raised her rail-thin arms and shot multiple daggers of black fire toward them.

Zepharali stood in front of him and deflected most of them with his shield, but there were so many razorlike shards moving with unfathomable velocity that he didn’t get them all.

Lazaar saw his death flash before him, thinking this would be the end, but Myst dove through the dark red clouds in enough time to cover him.

The blast was devastating enough to throw them back hundreds of feet and slam them into the steel doors of the armory.

Myst shrieked in pain, her wing singed and limp at her side.

Searing agony burned in Lazaar’s ribs, and blood dripped down his right temple.

“Lazaar!”

Zepharali flew to his side and hurried to assess his wounds. He tore off a piece of his tunic and pressed it to his head.

Lazaar had never felt so useless in all of his one thousand years.

“I can’t fight her on the ground. I have to go to her.”

Lazaar shook his head, his throat closing with a sinking feeling that his beloved would not return.

Zepharali

Zepharali didn’t want to do this, but he had no choice.

He only hoped Lazaar would understand it was the only way to protect him while he was gone.

Zepharali pulled on his wind with everything he had. His suns were still shaded by the mage’s darkness, but they weren’t gone.

His large fists crackled with solar energy, bending the powerful element to his will.

With a loud yell, he slammed his hands down with a force of impact that shattered the atmosphere.

A towering cage of glistening steel forged from the God of Sunfire descended with blinding speed and enveloped his heart’s treasure within its impenetrable hold.

Lazaar and Myst were confined inside, protected and untouchable.