A Skorn warrior lunged toward me—fast, brutal. I barely managed to lift my spear before he slammed into me with the force of a charging beast.
Pain exploded through my ribs, my breath strangled from my lungs. I hit the ground hard, my fingers going numb around the spear. The impact sent a fresh wave of agony through my already failing body.
The Skorn grinned down at me, his black-painted eyes filled with bloodlust. He lifted his sword, ready to bring it down?—
Rykr was a blur of motion, raw power unleashed.
He was on the warrior before he could react, catching the blade mid-swing with his bare hand.
His bare fucking hand.
Ice crackled over Rykr’s palm, rapidly spreading up the blade. The Skorn’s face twisted in shock just as Rykr wrenched the sword from his grip—then slammed his fist into his throat with bone-breaking force.
The warrior collapsed instantly, choking.
Rykr didn’t hesitate. Didn’t stop. He turned, a predator among prey, his movements blurring with unnatural speed as he tore through the Skorn like a god of war.
Another warrior leaped at him from behind?—
But Ciaran was already there.
I saw his movement first—fast, brutal—as he slammed a dagger straight into the warrior’s kidney. No hesitation. No wasted movement.
Blood spurted from the Skorn’s lips as Ciaran ripped the dagger free, then slammed his boot into the man’s chest, sending him sprawling.
Amahle was a blur of golden light and flashing steel, her stolen sword singing as it clashed against a Skorn’s blade. The Skorn warrior snarled, swinging hard.
Amahle didn’t block. She sidestepped the attack, ducking low, sliding past him with eerie grace. Her sword whipped through the air and the next moment, the Skorn staggered, blinking, before his throat split open, blood pouring down his chest.
She was already moving on before his body hit the ground.
Tara fought with sharp, controlled precision, her blade a viper’s fang, striking fast and true. She parried an attack with deadly ease, twisting the blade in a flourish before carving a brutal arc across the enemy’s chest.
Another Skorn came for her, swinging a massive axe.
Tara dodged just in time, spinning out of the way. A knife in her hand flashed, burying itself deep into the warrior’s thigh.
The Skorn roared in pain, staggering, and Tara took off his head.
One clean, effortless stroke.
Blood sprayed across her face, but her expression was as cold as ice.
Gods, they were all incredible. Fierce. Unstoppable. Fighting for their lives and for each other. For me.
And I … I was on the ground. Fucking useless.
No.
I shoved against the pain, forcing myself upright, using the spear to steady myself.
My legs were weak. Too weak.
The world tilted around me, but I forced myself to move.
Around us, the battle spiraled into madness. Ciaran took a brutal blow to the shoulder, his cry of pain sharp before he gritted his teeth and pushed forward, blood streaming down his arm. Tara was a whirlwind but even she couldn’t be everywhere at once. Amahle’s quick reflexes saved her from a fatal strike, but not before a sword sliced across her thigh, bright blood staining the dirt beneath her feet.
Seth—and Haldron—had underestimated the lengths we would go to for each other. One of us alone may not have survived this. But together? Together we had everything to live for. Everything to fight for.
