The world simply … melted.
Fabiana didn’t know how to explain it. Colors muted, vegetation shriveled up, and the Zealot looked half alive and half dead. Literally. The part of its body within the muted colors was more corporeal, the skin intact and green instead of gray.
“That woman should not be here among humans. Totally wasted on your kind.” Nanshe shrugged. “But then, we all have our parts to play.”
Fabiana didn’t know what that meant. Nanshe had a way of speaking in riddles so she could convey information she couldn’t say outright. Fabiana didn’t want to try to play charades in the middle of the battle. The Zealot froze, trapped in the spaces, and Carlo howled, the sound deafening as a large portal opened to the side of the Zealot.
Heath, Kallan, and Teague sliced through the Hollows, clearing the land with Raphael and Adonis as Zahara worked. Finally, the Witch Doctor clapped her hands together and the Zealot was pulled to the other side. Carlo brought his arms up and then down to the ground, and the portal closed.
Their biggest threat now contained, the battle had turned.
“We have to get to Zahara!” Nanshe pulled Fabiana away, blocking her view of the field, and took her to where Zahara swayed on her feet. Fabiana caught the Witch Doctor before she fell face forward.
“Such power is hard on the body,” Nanshe explained. “She’ll be out for a time. I didn’t want to leave her unprotected.”
No, Fabiana wouldn’t have wanted that either. Zahara had just saved her mate and her pack. The power within her body was frightening, but the way she was exhausted after using it often left her unprotected. With great power, as they say.
Portals opened once more, and the Hollows faded through them, leaving as quickly as they’d come. But the portals stayed open, windows to the other side. Through them, Fabiana saw Fae, clad in armor and roaring for battle. The Zealot was at their back, with a dragon and more Hollows.
“A warning of the future.” The disembodied voice sounded as if it was everywhere all at once.
“Skuld,” Nanshe whispered.
“Eventually, your little tricks won’t save you. I’ve grown tired of trying to be kind, and now I’ve played enough. Next time, youalldie unless you hand over the Ales, the Fae Queen and her sister, the Witch Doctor, as well as … the one who thinks she’s me. You have a fortnight to meet my demands.”
“‘The one who thinks she’s me’? What did she mean by that?”
Nanshe sighed. “You, Fabiana. My sister wants you too.”
