Page 178 of The Reaping Rose

I had proved what he needed me to: that I was capable of showing mercy. He needed to know I had limits and what they were. Only then was I worthy of fighting at his side.

Over the centuries, I’ve leveled battlefields, sent more souls to Sarrow than I’ll ever be able to count, but like my mate, I have never had the stomach to prey on those who are not a threat. My mother called it weakness, but it was why Darvel trusted me.

With both hands gripping tightly, I point my blade to the sky and grit my teeth, prepared to take on the beast with my life. I brace myself as a gentle caress of glowing light weaves over my hands. It winds down my forearms and up the blade, turning it nearly translucent. A ripple of moonlight in the darkness.

Elorie’s magic winds around me, and I wrangle my last burst of strength as I stand, striking the beast with the infused blade. It shrieks, coiling back.

My hands shake as I turn and find Elorie running toward me with Greer at her side.

“Is something wrong? I sensed you fading.” Her eyes are wide, her voice laced with panic even in my mind.

“I’m fine. I just needed a second.”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

Maybe so, but there’s no time for her to worry as ravagers continue to flood the beach.

My attention snags on Atlas, still battling the palemor with Callum. They’ve yet to strike its heart, although the damage they’ve done has allowed them to move closer.

“Atlas needs our help.”

“They all do,” Greer says, her gaze drifting over the battle.

Ravagers flood the shore. Malachi isn’t even using his own army to attack us; he’s summoning beasts from wherever he’s hiding. I search the tree line for a sign, but he’s nowhere to be found.

Andare’s army struggles to keep up with the onslaught, even as another wave of Darvel’s forces steps through the Arch. It’s not enough.

We’re losing.

Elorie and Greer run to help Atlas, while I wipe my blade clean on my leathers and storm toward the beach. My magic might be failing with the pulse of the orb tangling in the essence of the realm, but I’m unyielding. I will fight to the end.

Bodies cover the sand. There is more flesh than dirt as I step over them and make my way through. Each sweep of the sword is true, carving a path to the army ahead. A group forms a line, splitting the battle between the palemor and the ravagers. With every step we push forward, we’re shoved back two.

Thankfully, Elorie is on alert, picking off the ravagers that break through our ranks.

Another wave crests in the north, rushing from the trees. Defeat hangs in the metallic-tinged air until the wind shifts with a charge.

The sand ripples. A wave stirs in the water. Sand trembles beneath my feet. Particles float with the magnetic force swirling in the air.

A Gateway carves open at the center of the battle.

Desert sun and sand.

Unflinching heat and the sweetest scent of cherries.

The air swirls as Lochlan steps through, an army behind him. They flood out while he scans the beach, taking in the bodies all around. He does not balk or run. A wicked grin stretches his face.

I open the thread into his thoughts. “I thought maybe you got the day wrong.”

“Says the king always making a grand entrance. You know I wouldn’t miss Malachi falling for anything.” Lochlan steps forward, reaching for the scythe at his back.

A cluster of ravagers circle, and he moves faster than my heart thunders in my chest. One sweep and seven heads roll to the ground.

He grins, meeting my gaze, and I nod.

More of Lochlan’s personal army streams through the Gate, but we’re running out of time.

The palemor has shifted, and its coloring has changed. It’s so subtle I almost don’t notice it. The white scales have an undercurrent of a golden glow. Fire brews in its belly, almost fully replenished. Without my ability to call on my aether, there will be no protecting us from this wave.