It had to be enough.
“Ready.” He drank down the sight of her as she lifted her bow and released the first arrow into the forest. She shot off four more when he called up his own magic, and the forest came alive. Three dryads stood at his side, doing the same.
It was time that they took back what was theirs.
A high-pitched shriek pierced the air as the vines caught fire, and he ruthlessly ignored the way the sound scraped along his nerve endings. The vines began to writhe and squirm as they burned, lashing through the air as if searching for a way to ease the pain. One vine wrapped around a nearby tree, tore it from the ground with a loud ripping sound as the roots snapped and broke, then began beating at the flames.
One of the dryads sobbed at the death of the tree. Atlas didn’t feel it nearly as strongly, more like someone had just yanked out a patch of hair by the roots.
It stung like a bitch.
Then he pushed the pain away, knelt, and stuck his hands into the soil. Trees and branches shuddered at the rush of power, and he closed his eyes to focus. He forced the branches together, weaving them into a canopy, starting from the ground and arching it over their heads. It was slow at first, the effort making him grit his teeth, the magic dragging on his insides like his flesh was being stripped from his bones.
The trees gradually woke to his magic, thanks to the prodding of the dryads. When the forest figured out what theywere trying to do, the woods joined their efforts, and the ground underneath them rumbled under the strain.
When it felt like his soul was tearing free from him, he felt Morgan’s hand on his shoulder…and nearly choked when her magic began to funnel through him.
It was beautiful.
Like a reflection of her soul and it stole his breath.
By the gods, he’d known she was powerful, but he didn’t think any of the others had any clue about the vast amount of power she could access. It was like she could connect directly to the void.
No wonder the elves were so intent on getting their hands on her.
Atlas was more determined than ever that no one would lay a finger on her, not while he lived.
Morgan’s heart stuttered when she felt Atlas fade from her mind. Without even a command, magic burst from her, tearing through time and space until she was standing behind him without even moving. She placed a hand on his shoulder, determined to hold her to him, shuddering when she realized that she’d nearly been too late.
The magic searched every inch of him for injury and healed him. Only when she was satisfied he was healthy and whole did she pull back. Knowing they didn’t have much time, Morgan took a deep breath. It was now or never. “Everyone head out!”
The villagers charged forward with a roar, hacking at any vines that tried to tear apart the passage Atlas had created. They moved faster than she’d expected, working well with each other, helping everyone to keep moving.
When Atlas lurched clumsily to his feet to follow, she steadied him. To her surprise, Caedmon grabbed Atlas’s arm and slipped it over his shoulder. “Go. I have him.”
They were near the last to leave, only a few of the vampires remaining to cover their retreat.
A couple of people tripped over a vine, then screamed when it quickly latched around their leg and pulled them through the wall, shredding flesh as it did. Only a few were fast enough to cut their friends free before they were taken.
It seemed to take forever, the vines battering at the canopy. Branches shuddered under the force, twigs and leaves raining down on them. When they ran out the end of the tunnel, Morgan turned and called for one of her blades, waiting until Caedmon and Atlas were free.
Then, without hesitation, she sliced her palm down to the bone and began to trace a sigil in the air with her blood, ghostly shapes of the runes taking form.
Vines began to streak down the tunnel, desperately searching for prey. More and more punched through the barrier of the trees. When the last of the vampires cleared the path, Morgan lifted her bloody hand and slammed her palm against the smoky sigil.
A spark raced along the lines until the whole thing caught fire and flared bright. A blast of power shot out in a whoosh, and Morgan found herself flung backwards. Arms caught her, but her momentum was too much, and they all fell to the ground in a tangle of arms and legs. Morgan wasn’t surprised when she found Atlas and Caedmon surrounding her.
Flickering light in the distance caught her attention.
She turned and saw everyone frozen, staring at the forest.
Because it was on fucking fire!
The dark flames licked hundreds of feet in the air, going on for miles and miles in each direction as it spread. The majesty of it filled her with awe.
The forest itself remained untouched, but the vines curled up as they crackled and turned to ash.
“The wrath of the gods.” Petre stood next to her, his eyes wide as he stared down at her in shock, and a touch of fear. “It’s said that when a sin is committed against the gods, they breathe fire down on the world to cleanse it.”
