I surged toward the opening.
“What are you doing?” Frost seized my arm. “Stay here! Aelindor will have my head?—”
I shoved him. The Fae warrior skidded back two feet. His eyes went wide. I’d just shown him how strong I was.
“If I don’t go up, you might not have a prince to answer to.”
I leapt through the hatch. The jump carried me higher than it should have, five feet of clearance. I landed in a crouch on the speeding train. Wind slammed into me. The world blurred: gray sky, dark plains, the distant wall of the DarkVeil shifting against the horizon.
Frost followed. I didn’t look back.
One purpose burned in me: protect Aelindor.
Only I could.
Murder the Fae!Coldiron chanted.
No, you won’t!I answered.
I planted my feet wide, crouching low against the wind and the rocking momentum. I’d filled out, denser than in the mine. My size anchored me to the steel.
The rooftop was a war zone.
Aelindor engaged two demons at the front of the carriage. His longsword sang, star-steel cutting precise arcs through the wind.
The first demon was fast. Faster than anything that size should be. It ducked the Fae prince’s opening slash and drove a barbed fist at his ribs. Aelindor twisted. The barbs shredded his sleeve and opened a red line along his forearm. He answered with a diagonal cut, faster than a flash, and sliced off three fingers from the demon’s left claws. The demon hissed in pain.
The second demon used the opening. It slammed Aelindor from the flank, driving him toward the edge. His boots skidded. Half his body hung over the rushing ground. Then he planted a foot, torqued his hips, and wrenched the sword free in a rising slash that opened the first demon’s throat. He reversed the blade and drove it through the second’s chest. But the demon seized the steel as it entered, refusing to die. It dragged itself along the length of his own sword to reach him. Aelindor put a boot on its sternum and shoved. The demon slid off and collapsed, fingers still twitching toward him.
Caspian fought mid-carriage in his nine-foot warrior form. He had Demon A by the throat, claws deep. But the foul thing wasn’t dying. It hammered the shifter’s ribs with concussive fists, each blow vibrating through the roof. He wrenched sideways and tore flesh free. The demon raked its talons down his flank. Four deep furrows. Red blood hit the steel.
Demon B locked both arms around the prince’s torso from behind and lifted him off the roof. Caspian threw his head back. His skull cracked against the demon’s face. The grip broke. He dropped, spun, and drove both sets of claws into its chest. Three strikes before thecreature buckled. Even falling, it tried to drag Caspian’s warrior form over the edge.
Drakken held the rear against a demoness and a bull-horned demon fighting in tandem. One pressed. The other flanked. They rotated with the discipline of soldiers. His palms blazed with dragon fire. The bull-horned demon met it with hellfire, black and red against gold. Neither yielded.
Watch this, girl.The creature in me demanded my attention.Fire demons fear no dragon fire. They’re led by an archdemon.
The demoness closed the distance while the fires canceled each other out. She was enormous, taller than Drakken, armored in fossilized bone. She moved at high speed. Her claw caught the dragon prince across the brow and split skin. Blood poured into his eye.
Half-blind, he staggered. The bull-horned demon charged through the dissipating fire and drove a shoulder into his chest. Drakken skidded backward, boots carving grooves in the steel.
He abandoned his flame and drew his ebony broadsword. Met the demoness head-on. The impact jolted up his arms. She pressed down with her full weight. The dragon prince held against a force that should have driven him through the roof.
Then he redirected her momentum sideways, stepped inside her guard, and buried the broadsword in her shoulder. He ground through bone until she shrieked and reeled back.
The bull-horned demon came again. Drakken torethe blade free and split its armguard in a two-handed swing.
Sulfur and burnt metal choked the air. The train took every curve at full speed, rocking beneath us. The DarkVeil swirled in the distance—shadow hanging from sky to ground, as if the world ended at its edge.
Seeing the heirs bleed hurt me on a profound level. Rage brimmed in every fiber of my being. But I hadn’t come here to join the battle. I’d come to stop it.
My gaze snapped upward.
The archdemon stood at least ten feet tall, riding a hell beast—smoke and sinew, its wingspan blotting out the churning sky. He wore obsidian armor. Flaming horns curled from his skull like a crown of fire. His face was ancient ruin—angular, carved with sigils that glowed ember-red. In his hands, a massive war bow.
Two arrows notched.
Both aimed at Aelindor.
