We are well and truly fucked. After all we came through,thisis how it ends—we get fried by a creepy druid with a penchant for arson, or murdered by a bunch of self-righteous assholes drinking the anti-witch Kool-Aid.
We didn’t even get a chance to fight for our friends. For each other.
We don’t even know if our friends are stillalive.
Anger boils up inside me.
No. We aren’t going out like this. Not here, not now.
Fuck.
This.
Bullshit.
A scream burns its way out of my lungs. Sword raised, I spin around and slice open Judgment’s throat.
“Holy shit!” Baz cries, then grabs my arm, recovering from the shock just as Judgment falls to his knees. “Fuckingmove, Stevie! Move!”
Judgment claws at his throat, eyes bulging as he gasps for air. Black blood surges from the wound and soaks his robe.
“Choke on it, fuckface,” I snarl, but that’s all I manage to get out before Baz hauls me away. We hightail it out of the caves, deciding to take our chances with the mages in the meadow.
My whole body is vibrating with rage and adrenaline, muscles burning as I push myself to my limits, running hard and holding onto that blade with everything I’ve got.
The Black Sun is close on our heels, his fury a palpable force, squeezing my lungs and making it hard to breathe, much less run. But still, I don’t dare stop.
It’s only when we’ve cleared the meadow that I realize what the fuck is wrong with this picture.
Eastman and his mages haven’t moved.
But Judgment has.
Trailing his little pet Sun, the monster I just slice-and-diced is back on his feet and quickly gaining ground, the blood-drenched robe the only evidence of my attack.
“Unworthy!” he calls out, taunting. “You shall burn at his command! Forhispleasure! Then you shall rise for mine!”
Baz whips around, calling on his earth magick to bring up a wall of rocks and debris, buying us a few seconds to catch our breaths.
Behind the makeshift protection, the Black Sun shouts at Eastman and his mages. “Do it now! Hurry, before they get away with the artifacts!”
“Why aren’t they attacking?” I ask Baz.
“Don’t care,” Baz says, still holding up the wall. He turns his head and spits out a mouthful of blood. “We need to get out of here. Now.”
“Can you portal us out?”
“No can do.” Baz’s arms begin to tremble, and the wall he erected falls away. “I’m tapped out.”
We’re about to run again when a string of curses slips from Doc’s mouth, so low and dark I’m not even sure it was really him.
But the fear in his eyes is unmistakeable.
I follow his line of sight—first to Eastman and his mages, their arms outstretched like they’re about to receive a blessing. Then to Judgment, holding his Wand up toward the sky, the wood letting out a low hum. Beside him, the Black Sun bows his head.
The three objects still in our possession—my Sword, as well as the Chalice and Pentacle in Kirin’s pack, let out the same hum as the Wand, as if answering its call.
A wave of dark, terrifying magick sweeps across the meadow. The once beautiful trees ignite in flames, a raging fire that spreads across the grassy earth, devouring everything in its path.
