Page 73 of Demon Touched

The unspoken “to you” at the end of that sentence hangs between us. And while we both know I can’t promise anything, it’s the best peace offering I have to give before I slam up my walls and block him out entirely.

The emptiness of being alone in my mind aches, but I try to use it, letting it sharpen me to a point like the arrow in my hand. I nock it and draw the string of my bow, scanning for a target. I will probably have to kill today. It’s a reality I accepted the moment I heard what the second trial was. That doesn’t mean I won’t try my best to limit the cost.

I spy a pair of ephilium in bronze armor about forty yards away. Two overeager fledglings who’ve ignored the instructions to await General Sawler’s orders and have flown straight into the fray. A bone-white demon with a chain mace steeped in choking shadow is beelining toward them, easily dodging the unwieldy stalks of lightning they’re trying to cast his way.

I take aim, imbuing a little lightning of my own through the tip of the arrowhead, then release my bowstring.

My aim is true. The arrow whips through the taut membrane of the demon’s wing, ripping a hole in it and searing the edges with the white-hot energy of my magic. The demon screams as he quickly loses altitude, unable to adjust to the sudden drop in air resistance.

The irony doesn’t escape me that it was the Lord of Malice who taught me how to do this—to fight for myself fiercely and without remorse. But there’s no time to celebrate my twisted victory, because there’s a sudden breach in the ephilium front line a hundred yards away. Even though a surge of golden warriors from the other side of the battle rush to defend it, the edges of the battle balloon outward, breaking containment.

We fledglings are now in the very heart of the fight, as Brigade and demon soldiers come crashing toward us, volleying shadows and lightning between them. I stuff my bow back between the straps on my shoulders and draw my sword.

“Fledglings!” a woman bellows as she rises above the fray. The impressive plume on her helmet tells me she’s probably General Sawler. “Watch the rear!”

There’s no keeping my distance now.

I join the other fledglings in encircling the ephilium side of the battle, giving the Brigade security from the back to focus on the demons coming at them from a small break in the eastern flank’s line. I find a free spot and drop down into it, hovering within a few yards of some other fledglings I recognize. The nearest, a woman with dark hair named Mila, gives me a nod. My wings are already starting to ache a little. I’m not used to keeping myself off the ground for so long.

“On your right!” I hear Rowan shout from somewhere ahead of me. I turn, as do the nearest twenty fledglings, setting eyes on a small rabble of demons soaring toward us.

Then everything is a blur of magic and weapons as we fall upon each other. I let Swiftwing guide me, and the blade’s magic seems heightened with so many threats around us. It tells me to swing left when a fanged demon tries to slice me up my side with her axe, catching the weapon’s handle and sending it flying out of her grasp. She dives to catch it while Swiftwing guides my hands up and across my right forearm, piercing straight through the wrist of a large demon who was about to try his own hand at skewering me.

He hasn’t even finished his growl of pain when he’s struck from behind by a bolt of lightning, the magic scorching him right down to the core. I recoil from the bitter smell and horrible scream that rises from his throat as he tumbles earthward.

Mila hovers in the spot behind him, her hand still outstretched from where she released her magic.

“Thanks,” I say. Before she can respond, our attention is pulled toward an agonized scream. A demon rider on a kelaryn has swooped past a fledgling, pelting them with a small, glass projectile that exploded on impact. It’s coated the fledgling’s face in demon blood, which burns like acid through their flesh. The kelaryn banks toward us with another projectile poised, aimed at Mila this time.

“No!”

I dive in front of her, taking the full impact of the projectile. It hits me low on my breastplate, but my jaw and cheek are still coated in a spray of blood as the glass shatters.

Yikes, that’s going to leave a nasty rash, but a bit of itchiness I can handle.

I turn to Mila as three fledglings swiftly fall on the kelaryn rider. She stares at me, shocked, as I wipe away the blood with the back of my hand.

“Y-you’re okay?” she stutters.

“Yep. Sometimes it pays to be nephilim.”

She nods in agreement as we separate, diving toward new threats. When I steal a moment to assess the larger scene a bit later, I can see we’re making headway. With us protecting the back of the western flank, the Brigade has been freed up to push forward—a prong of gleaming soldiers now extending out into the demonic forces to the south.

“Leah!”

I spin around, then instinct tells me to look up, and I see Filippa coming toward me, fast. Her wings catch the air awkwardly, making it a clumsy descent, and I have to pivot when she nearly crashes into me.

“What is it?” I ask, staying alert to our surroundings as she straightens up.

“I’ve spotted something,” she gasps. “From up there.” She jabs her finger skyward, indicating a spot of clear air high above the battle. I don’t ask her what she was doing up there. We both know Filippa is best positioned far away from the action, trial or no trial. Part of me thinks that’s where I should be too. Except…

My fellow fledglings, my friends, need defending.

So maybe, for the first time, this isn’t just about survival for me.

“Keep talking,” I prompt, curving my wings to spin me around in the air, checking no one’s about to take advantage of our distraction.

“There’s someone coming this way. A lord I think, maybe the new Rancor ruler. They’ve already taken down three Brigade sections, and they’re coming for ours next.” She points to the prong of ephilium we’ve all worked so hard to help gain ground.