I flip the dagger in my hand, wipe the blood off on my trousers. “Where’s the fun in that when the enemy’s up there?”
Reon stretches his back with a grimace. Copper wings flare out, the edges gleaming gold. He gives me a crooked grin.
“I’ll throw some down for you to finish off.”
With that, Reon soars upward, sword flashing free from its sheath. He crashes into another Ithranor mid-flight, and true to his word, kicks the bastard hard from the sky. He spirals down, heading straight for me.
I don’t flinch. I just wait, blade poised and as he hits the deck with a sickening crunch, I slit his throat in one clean pull. Blood spurts across the boards. Reon nods once before vanishing into the fray, leaving a crimson trail in his wake.
But then I see it. A fresh wave rising from the Ithranor ship like a swarm of insects.
A sharp twist of pain in my chest signals a truth I cannot deny.
There are too many. Even for us.
A heavy thud lands beside me, splintering the deck. I twist around, dagger ready to finish off another of Reon’s airborne gifts. But it’s not an Ithranor.
It’s Zyphoro.
She groans, blood streaking from her lip, feathers torn from her wings and scattered like ash around her.
“Sister,” I say, reaching down.
She grabs my arm, hauling herself to her feet with a grimace.
“You alright?” I ask, eyeing the blood seeping through her leathers.
“It’s not mine,” she mutters, but she’s cradling her left arm like it might not be working properly. “I have to get back up there.”
She’s barely spoken when a loud crack above makes us both look up.
Orios slides down the mast, one wing limp and dragging. He doesn’t get a chance to breathe. Two Ithranor dive after him, blades flashing. He snarls and parries, but they come hard, fast.
Solena appears just in time, intercepting one of Orios’ attackers, but a third closes in immediately.
“They’re coming faster than we can slay them!” Reon shouts.
My hands twitch at my sides. Smoke curls from my fingers. The air turns cold.
The void hums.
It would be so easy to call it. So easy to give in, to let the darkness rise and devour them all. One breath, one whisper, and the Ithranor would fall screaming into nothing. Meat for the beast.
It is not only a want, but a need. A need to let go, to lose myself in the forsaken gift that is my birthright.
But before I can take the step over that edge, a hand finds mine.
I flinch, thinking it’s Zyphoro, dragging me back.
But no, there’s a softness in the touch. Gentle. Grounding.
Amara.
She’s beside me, calm in the chaos, her smile lighting something in my chest.
“What…” I murmur. “You’re supposed to…”
I glance toward the cabin.
