Page 132 of Ashen Wings

“I don’t believe that’s any of your concern, Ms. Sunwither.” Samkiel lets out a sickly chuckle that boils my saliva and I clench the sword tighter in my hand. “But it won’t be a threat to our great faction anymore. That I can assure you.”

I memorize the soldiers one by one, counting thirty until the crowd of crimson cloaks fade into the shadows. I know there’s way too many to take on alone, but the scent of blood blurs the line of rationality.

My focus pinholes on Saphine and Samkiel. If I can take both of them out, then maybe the soldiers will retreat? Smoke’s military is trained on compliance and obedience. Without someone to sling orders, would they run? Do I care?

Right now, every fiber of my being is set on one goal—total, fucking carnage.

These fuckers slaughtered innocent dragons, desecrated a sacred land. They threatened my friends. My breath hitches. No, not just comrades…family. Isra, Jace, Tenebris, Niaxa, Sera, even Roe. These people are a home I’ve built for myself. I’ll be damned if I let Samkiel, or Saphine for that matter, tear us to shreds.

Tears stain my vision as I rise from behind the log, my resolve as steady as the thundering pulse in my veins.

Astora, Morvayne, if any of the gods are listening, I pray they hear my one last plea before I turn my back on them forever.

Then, I shut down my thoughts and slip into the dark chaos I’ve turned to time and again.

No fucking mercy.

No hesitation.

I am an extension of the blade I carry. Not a woman. Not a slave. Not a lover. Not a daughter.

My pulse steadies, my breath slows, and the world fades.

Then I charge.

Samkiel isn’t prepared for the attack, but Saphine catches a rustle of wind on the silent air. Her violet eyes meet mine and grow wide. Something like regret flashes in them. Good. Let her feel the guilt. The pain. The anguish.

Let her fucking drown in it.

I slam into her with enough force that the soldiers closest to her stumble back.

Startled shouts rise around us. Shields clank and swords draw, but Samkiel’s fist juts into the air, a delighted grin spreading over his mouth.

He wants to watch this play out, like we’re entertainment for his men. I don’t care if I’m made an actor in his fucked up performance. I don’t care that I’m flanked by a sea of soldiers. All I can taste is Saphine’s life slipping into the abyss.

Her blade screeches against mine as she barely manages to keep it pinned between us. Steel grinds like bones.

“Nova…” she breathes, voice cracking.

A growl erupts through me, uncaging the predator I keep so tightly chained.

I don’t let her speak.

I don’t let her beg.

“What happened to trusting your own faction?” I snarl, teeth bared. Every ounce of grief rises like a knife from my gut. “We never should have trusted you.”

Saphine tries to steady her stance, but she’s faltering already. Maybe from the explosions or the weight of her own guilt. Regardless, I steal every misstep and use it to my advantage.

Our blades clash, steel on steel.

Silver on silver.

Amethyst on amethyst.

“I wasn’t given any choice, Nova, please. You have to understand that? The debt I owe to Ashar…”

Our weapons clash against each other again with a ringing shock of force. She stumbles, breath catching, and I follow relentlessly.