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“DaiSzek can’t defend himself!” Warrose tries to reach me again. Dessin’s arms unwind around me as this seems to break through the impenetrable glass of our shock.
A swarm of soldiers hold tall shields as they close in on the wounded RottWeilen. Slow marches to ensure he doesn’t attack from being cornered.
A searing filter of red fills my vision. My nostrils flare as I turn my head to the right, slowly, like a possessed doll coming to life. In the distance, closer than before, the Mazonist Brothers riding like kings in a merlot-rusted chariot. Their old, weathered faces smile down at me. They watch DaiSzek fall from glory like a theater performance.
And they’re resting in the safety behind their army.
“Protect our boy,” I grit in rageful daze to Dessin.
“Skylenna…”
“I’m coming with you.” Marilynn touches my elbow, still covered in Aurick’s blood.
“As are we, dashna,” Asena says with the conviction of the white wolf queen she truly is. And along come the remaining members of her pack, stained in red and black against their fluffy coats of snowy fur.
Dessin blinks at her, parting his mouth to tell her something that weighs heavy in his heart. But it’s as if Asena already knows what he’s going to say. She bows her head as if she already knows whatever it is he wants to share.
“Did they fight well?” she asks.
“The best I’ve ever seen,” Dessin says.
Runa shows up with a wide grin of defiance, followed by Bellanne from Faecrest colony.
I turn back to Dessin, trembling with an energy that conquers all and quiets my mind.
“Protect. Our. Boy.”
I wait for no one as I make my descent on the twins that have enforced evil and unforgivable cruelty on their nation. The leaders who are to blame for the death of Knightingale. The rulers who kept us locked in prison.
The dead brothers who will carry the brunt of my retribution.
Because a scorned angel is far more frightening than the devil himself.
Jumping over piles of bodies, severed limbs, and burned carnage, I feel the other women tread behind me. They clear a path as my arms twitch and shiver with pent-up hostility. The thought of Knightingale springing into the darkness as it closed around her, running with a flaming explosive, singeing the inside of her mouth…I can’t unsee it. She was so brave. So small compared to DaiSzek, yet fierce with her conviction.
We’ve lost Aurick.
We’ve lost Kaspias.
And although they were not always friends, they lost their lives for us.
My brain splinters and curls at the corners, reaching for the void, channeling every tear I am going to spill from this day forward as I endure flashbacks of this day.
Malcolm and Maxwell are dressed in their most royal attire, with jewels and robes and smug smiles that begin to fade as the women around me slay their best defenses to get me closer. Their white brows rise cautiously, darting their eyes back and forth. Swamp dawpers are sent in to attack from every angle, but between my ancient sword removing their heads and Asena siccing her white wolves on them…all that’s left is their supreme guard.
The most powerful of Vexamen Breed commanders just like Kaspias.
My mind flashes through the void like a whip, and I snatch the guards before Runa and Marilynn can touch them. My unit halts behind me as the commanders go stiff, eyes rolling in the backs of their heads. I dominate their souls like a bad omen, filling their bloodstreams with my authority as I sink my claws into the essence of their brains.
“You are mine now,” I command in a voice that echoes with darkness and a lack of humanity.
The supreme guard drops to their knees.
“Eat your masters.” I grin with bloodshot eyes. “Slowly.”
Those around us watch the show of cannibalism in horror. The Mazonist Brothers are too old, too weak, too fucking spineless to defend themselves against the now bloodthirsty guard. It was too easy to summon this violence, to get what I wanted from the void.
And even though my body quakes and pulses with hypothermia clutching at my nervous system, I watch the demise of the men who have ruined so many lives. I relish in their screams, the choking sounds that gurgle in their throats as teeth rip at their necks.
