Page 470 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Twelve guards. All but two had blades drawn.

The outliers were worse: reaper bullets.

Suddenly the window wasn’t sounding like the worst option. But could Cyrus catch three of us?

Dragging in desperate breaths, I steadied myself and assessed. Cursed myself for not bringing August with us to plant his shield between the usurper and my siphon.

“Odds aren’t great,” I noted.

Lana huffed; short, curt… amused? “Fuck the odds.”

She’d no sooner said the words than the room erupted. Four of the guards turned on their comrades. Holy fucking shit.

With a gasp, I lunged. Lana took advantage of the opening as steel met steel. One down. Eight to go.

“Seven,” she hissed.

I lurched for a tall motherfucker with no hair, but we both staggered.

The world seemed to… sway. Tilt.

Confusion marred the guard’s brow just as it settled in my chest. A chest rapidly filling with dread as everything around us swelled, twisted, pulled toward some invisible force.

Lana’s eyes snapped to mine a beat before she started running. Diagonal. Toward me and the damn windows. Seizing the momentary distraction, a guard lunged for Moros, forcing him to break focus.

But the power around us rippled. Tugged. And I’d felt something similar only once; when Magnolia erupted.

“Fuck, fuck, fuckfuckfuck,” I muttered with every step. The instant Lana’s hand clasped mine, my gaze snapped to Blythe who’d just staggered toward us, and the world exploded.

I barely tucked my chin, arms raised above my head just in time to slam through the goddamn window. Air gone. Ribs crushed. Flung like a damn ragdoll, I lost Lana’s hand as a wall of power tore us apart.

And then I was spinning.

Spinning over open air.

Glimpses of green, of shattering gray.

My momentum jerked to a stop, knocking the air back into my lungs.

“Fuuuuck!” Cyrus.

Eyes flying wide, I fought down a breath as he grappled for a hold on me, wings tucking in tight as we dove.

For Lana.

For the sea.

For the frothing waves over jagged rocks below us.

For all of a breath, time slowed, just long enough for me to find Blythe suspended midair, her hands limply raised, hair wild—a beat before time roared back and a blur of color collided with her⁠—

Plunging her directly into the dark water below.

Aren

“Everybody ready?” I gritted out, slicing down my forearm before they could answer. Ready or not, we were out of fucking time.

I looked up to the hollow runes of a dormant gate—my gate—before scanning over the scrawled notes around the spell and saying a prayer that we were, indeed, divinely protected.