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“She is the best of us from both worlds,” he’d said. “The tainted lied! She can live here and still possess magic. She can heal from sickness and be powerful. We don’t need to turn into animals like her. Her mother was human. Don’t you all want to be powerful and immortal like her?”
The problem was that having a foot in both worlds meant she belonged to none.
She felt a thicker kinship with these beautiful monsters than with her family. She saw understanding, acceptance, need, and desire—beings trapped in the dark who wanted a slice of the light.
Yes, little wolf. It is not night when we see your face. Tear a hole in the veil. Close the gap. Be our skin.
The whispers were so familiar. They’d comforted her in lonely times. They’d dreamt alongside her. They’d wiped her tears. And now, they needed her to save them.
Defiance burned through Willow. She submitted to her instincts. The world fell away. Sound dimmed beneath the roar of buzzing wings until her heart pounded like a drum, and her power shot into the stars.
There, she found what she needed. She latched on, clawing into it. Then she tugged it back to the earth. Brought it closer, closing the gap.
Wake.
Rise.
There is no between, only life—one existence for all.
Willow lost all sense of reality. There was nothing after that but blood, buzzing swarms, screams, and the sense something wasn’t going according to plan. The taint in the Well changed her intention and mixed everything up. Pain, agony, and the horrifying realization that her power leaked from her body like blood from a gaping wound.
Worse than leaked—something sucked it out like a vampire, and it wasn’t the queen across the battlefield. It was someone far, far away, and hungry. Ancient. Greedy. Righteous.
Willow fought, scrambled, lashed, and tried to hold on. But it was as futile as catching air. She wasn’t experienced enough. This ancient entity was borne of stardust, and Willow had woken it from slumber along with everything else.
An ear-piercing scream ripped from her throat. A tether snapped inside of her. And then there was nothing but the dry, crumbling hole inside her body.
Sweating, panting, numb, she looked around, dazed. The world seemed so dull now. A familiar voice shouted two inches from Willow’s face.
“What?” Willow mumbled, touching her ears. Blood oozed out, but they were still pointed, still fae. So then, why did she feel so barren inside?
“We have to go!” Rory barked, eyes flashing.
Burning seared Willow’s jaw and shoulder, knocking her to the side. Crying out, she clutched her arm and felt a warm, sticky wetness on her dirty flesh. A man’s face appeared before hers. His nose was gone, and she could see bone. The clothes hanging from his body were threadbare. He reached for her with fingers worn to the bone, like he’d torn through something. Dirt, she realized. He’d dug himself out of a grave. Rory yanked Willow out of the way and slammed her boot into the noseless man’s face.
A screech in the dawn sky lifted their gazes. A demonic dragon flew over the battlefield, its jaw gaping as it swooped and stole souls for supper. Each time it fed, its body shimmered like an oil slick. Its white exposed skull and horns glimmered on the outside of its head, but its jaw was covered in black scales. Dark, fathomless eyes looked right at her as it passed. An acknowledgment.
“Up!” Rory growled, taking Willow’s numb hands and placing them on the ladder’s rungs. “Climb!”
“What—what happened?” She let go, turning back to the battle.
Rory screamed in frustration and used her weight to shoulder another undead out of the way. “Snap out of it if you want to live. Climb.”
Willow’s understanding of events returned with sudden clarity. This devastation was because of her. She’d called the army of undead like Nero had wanted. Or something else had wanted. But she lost control of them. They attacked heedlessly, turning on their master because… Willow’s power was gone.
Broken teeth snapped at her. Darting back, she tripped and fell. She landed hard, jarring her spine. She fought back as the undead fell on top of her, desperately trying to recall Rory’s lessons.
Block. Calm yourself. Your body is a weapon.
But Willow’s claws had slipped beneath her fingertips. She kicked and shoved, lashing the undead away. Each time she scraped spongy skin, it tore off their face like paper. The rank smell of death smothered her. She averted her face as the creature gnashed, spraying spittle.
I’m going to die,she thought, squeezing her eyes shut.
The weight lifted. Cold air whooshed in. Willow opened her eyes, gulping in fresh air, and glimpsed a handsome face flashing with the imprint of a skull beneath his skin. Then he was gone. Darkness shrouded her. She tried to lever off the corpse to stand, but her arms trembled, and she slipped on bloody flesh.
Featherlight pressure surrounded her limbs. Her stomach dropped as ghostly hands lifted her. For a horrifying moment in time, she was weightless, powerless. And then her feet touched the ground. Confused, she looked around as six sets of dark wings swooped, their owners twisting to kneel before her in a circle. The fallen angels bowed like knights before a queen, their wings like veils spilling behind them to cover the gore and death.
Oddly, beyond their circle, the undead were held back by an invisible force. But nothing penetrated that ring.
