Page 307 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“There’s no guarantee my magic will work. Commander or not, I’m an outsider,” I cautioned.

“And?” she demanded, leveling me with a glare.

Mags’ sigh sounded more like a growl. “And the enchantment could’ve corrupted the portal. It could take you anywhere or strike you down.”

“Like I give a fuck,” Lana growled.

“Freya might,” Mags said, more irritated by Lana’s flippancy than her vitriol.

Rika sounded timid, as though she wasn’t entirely sure she should weigh in. “I’d care.”

“I certainly would.”

Lana huffed, rolling her eyes, then threw her arms open in begrudging acquiescence. I did the same, wrapping her in a bear hug that had her sputtering into my chest.

When I eased away, I widened my stance and closed the distance, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Look at me, Lana.” Eyes like razors flicked to mine, lifeless behind her mask of irritation. “Good girl,” I added just to rile her. Those hard blues narrowed—a good sign as far as I was concerned. “Listen to me. This team needs you, now more than ever. Ansel trusted you to keep us together. He trusted you to look after Freya. You have every right to be livid.”

“Oh, do I?” she hissed. “What a relief.”

“I understand what you’re feeling,” I vowed, that soul-deep wound pulsing with the reminder.

“Don’t,” she bit out. “Your mate inexplicably stands while the sharpest blade in our arsenal has become one with the Pacific. Don’t talk to me about knowing what this feels like, Aren. Not until you know what it is to watch your coven light arrows for the better half of your soul. Ansel is gone⁠—”

“And I miss him every goddamn day.” I wrapped my hands around her shoulders. “I don’t understand what it is to lose a mate. I’ve never had to.”

“Then don’t speak to it.”

“Fair. But I do know what it is to lose him. There is a chasm where his wisdom stood beside mine for five centuries. I miss him. Every fucking day. I miss his insight. I miss his laugh so bad it hurts. I miss his shoulder beside mine as we faced down death, shields in hand. But mostly… I miss him for you, Lana.”

“Stop,” she bit out, her eyes glassy. “Aren, please.”

I nodded. “You are not alone. Your agony might well and truly be unique to a loss so catastrophic I can’t fathom it beyond the nightmares that plague me. But you are not alone, and if it comes down to standing between you and the enemy that took him, so be it. I will stand between you and the demons at the helm and wage hell together. As it has been for well over a century. If it’s the last thing I do, I will bring the witch to her knees. But that killing blow belongs to you and Freya.” I tucked her short hair behind her ear, hating the way her lips thinned, her eyes jamming closed. “Fight for him, Lana. No one will fill his space between us, which means it’s up to you and me to hold the line. No matter what happens—no matter what you face when your boots hit the earth, promise me something: don’t let go of the rope. No matter how much you want to drown in the beyond, you cannot let go.”

She gave a stiff nod, running her tongue between her lips before opening those agonized eyes—whittled hollow by grief and righteous fury. “Hold the line.”

I nodded, jaw tight as I pulled her into my chest for one last squeeze. With one arm still looped around her shoulders, we turned toward the portal. Hell. I hadn’t taken a mission without Lana since I sent the coven to Solskivall.

Mags and Rika stepped between us and the gate, their eyes scanning the runes. They lifted their hands in a synchronized motion—a swirl of shadow and mist rising to ring the archway. Light poured through the vines behind it as though a storm had cleared, a faint green glimmer fracturing through Magnolia’s power.

Together they said, “Seven Sisters guide us. I clear this space of all entities without our highest and best interest in mind.”

Mags added, “I welcome in my light team—Lana’s light team—to illuminate our path forward and guard her on her journey.”

I squeezed Lana’s shoulder, and her hand came up to pat my chest as we disentangled. I knelt, as I always did before a battle, and prayed my own words of blessing. When I rose, Lana already had her dagger outstretched. I sliced it across the back of my arm, where the wound wouldn’t distract me if I needed to fight our way out of this harebrained Hail Mary.

Smearing my blood across the rune for protection, I called out to the entity buzzing in the air like the charge before a storm. “Rhiannon. I ask for your protection. If you are with us, show us the way. Free Lana to carry a message home.”

At first, I thought nothing happened.

We all watched, searching for any sign she was listening. Goosebumps ran down my skin as the leaves rustled around us, branches bowing and creaking. A haunting melody rang out across the stones, vines and leaves shifting—déjà vu raising the hair along my arms.

Those ghostly vocals chilled my chest, and slowly, I recognized them for what they were—the notes from the music box Moros brought to the battlefields, carried on a woman’s voice instead of plucked metal teeth. A supernatural wind stirred, tossing loose strands of Magnolia’s hair across her face as Lana, Brody, and I all drew blades and Jason backed up to shift.

As the wind picked up, Lana and Brody rotated into a natural formation, all of us watching each other’s backs.

The arms of charred vines climbed down the stone wall behind the archway like demons scampering across the earth. One by one, the runes illuminated in a faint silver-blue glow until the archway shone in its entirety.

“It’s working,” Mags breathed, awe in her voice.