He growled in rage as the Umbra laughed lowly. A Fallen with long, blood-splattered hair and flickering dark eyes.
"You should try harder, Sorren," the Umbra hissed as Graves used his free hand to grab the Umbra’s neck, shoving him away. He was careful not to let the Umbra’s mouth anywhere near his forearm.
He slammed the Umbra against a wall, vibrating from the beating of dragon wings above. Vale was waiting for them to deposit more of the Umbra on the prison island so he could burn them all.
Graves didn’t even try to speak through their mind link. When Vale was like this, he was far beyond their reach, had no rationale besides death and possession. Only one thing would keep Vale going now, and it was the same thing that strengthened Graves’s steps:
Luella.
Graves didn’t bother speaking.
The Umbra kept goading him, however. "So quiet all of the time. I bet you won’t be quiet when your little toy’s screams fill the air." Graves drove the Umbra harder against the wall. "I betshe screams so beautifully." The shadows in the Umbra’s eyes darkened. "Hewonders if she tastes as sweet as she looks."
Graves twisted his right arm up, shoving the dagger into the underside of the Umbra’s chin. The blade pierced his jaw and went straight up into his brain, silencing him.
It was a grisly sight. Graves let his gaze linger. He wished he could fucking bring the Umbra back and kill him all over again for those words. Rage coiled inside him like a living thing.
No, the only being who deserved his true anger was the Tenebrae.
He fell back into battle.
After some time, he saw Emarelia. The female was lithe as she raised her hands, sending tangles of vines throughout the room, cracking the floor as they shot from the very ground. Merath was by her side, fire sweeping from one hand as she expertly wielded a sword in the other, protecting Emarelia as she used her magic to ward off the Umbra.
Graves met their eyes, then nodded.
He kept having to wipe his face to get rid of the blood, and wipe his dagger on the edge of his shirt to clean it. He was taking no godsdamned chances—not when so much was at stake.
A loud cry broke through the mist of crimson.
Graves ripped his dagger away from an Umbra, and the male fell to the ground.
With wings tucked to his back, Graves turned to find the source of the noise.
When he did, everything stopped.
"No," Graves breathed.
Soro fought in the corner of the room, a sword in hand as he battled with an Umbra. He was losing. The Umbra held a curved sword. The blades zinged as they met. Soro was forced back against the wall, his wings slamming against it. Feathers fell to the ground behind him.
In a flash, Graves flew to his brother.
The Umbra cackled as he raised the sword, swinging it out and down, heading straight for Soro’s neck. A killing blow—he’d cut it off?—
Graves gasped as he used the momentum from his wings to force the Umbra away. Sharp, fiery pain lanced up his side.
He looked down.
The sword was lodged in his ribs. His blood spilled over the silver blade. At least it wasn’t tainted with Umbra blood.
Soro gasped at his back. "Sorren?—"
Graves stumbled as the Umbra yanked the sword away. Blood gushed from the cut in his ribs. Hands slick with blood, he twisted, dagger ready, and kicked with everything he had. His boot connected with the Umbra’s chest so hard, he heard a crack. The Umbra fell.
Graves fell forward, shoving his dagger right into the Umbra’s heart. Blood bubbled from the wound, and the Umbra’s head fell to the side.
The roar of the battle grew distant in his ears. Graves collapsed to his knees before the dead Umbra, wings dragging in the gore on the floor.
"Sorren, Sorren." Soro knelt beside Graves, hands fluttering over the wound on his side. "Fuck—godsdammit, Sorren! Why?" Soro’s eyes glistened with tears.
