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"Who are we speaking to?" Azrail asked, pulling Maia closer even as he reached for more magic, sinking deeper into the pool than he had even at the palace. It went further than he'd ever dreamed or dreaded, and the back of his neck tingled at the sheerdepthof magic inside him.
Beven, that raspy voice replied, and a shiver skated down Az's spine.
The saint of crossroads and rivers was speaking to them. Not Sephanae or her mate, but the Sentry. The saint who guarded the gates between the living world and the chasm.
You need him,Beven added, but whatever else he might have said was swallowed by a roar loud enough to make Az flinch away from Maia, his hands raising to his ears. He'd worry about the saints later; right now this creature was a bigger threat. The Levaen. Another myth come to life, just like Maia's three-headed wolves.
"Find the way out," Azrail ordered Bryon. "Fuck what the saint said; we need to get out of this place."
Wherever the hell the soldier's trap had actually sent them. What had Ark been thinking coming here? He was usually level-headed and smart, not rash. He’d led them right into a trap.
"Run!" Bryon boomed when the Levean moved faster than anything that size ought to be able to. Fast enough that it would be upon them in minutes.
Bryon bent and grabbed Ark before Az or Maia could react, slinging the injured guard over his massive shoulder as if he weighed nothing.
"Time to go," Az said, squeezing Maia's hand and running after Bryon.
The ground shook, the stench intensifying until Azrail gagged. None of the stories had said the Levaen stank like a slaughterhouse. They'd said the creature ate anything in its path, however; it had swallowed whole worlds, and according to Lore had eaten the Wolven Lord himself before it had been imprisoned in the darkest pit of the chasm.
But there was no way the soldier had sent them to hell—it was physically impossible for the living to access the chasm. This had to be an in-between realm.
"Az!" Maia choked out when the next quake sent him flying to his knees on the dusty ground. She pulled at him frantically, helping him back to his feet, her eyes so panicked that her pupils almost swallowed the gold ring of colour.
He wanted to tell her they were going to be fine, but the ground rocked again, the Levaen dragging itself closer, and a wave ofsomethingcame from it. Noxious and smoky, it was too close to Azrail's own smoke magic for comfort. The only difference was this was as red as blood, and fluttering like the huge vultures above.
When it grew close, moving impossibly fast, he saw the cloud was made up of hundreds of tiny red birds.
They moved too swiftly for him to take more than two steps. The second the smoke birds hit his skin, his knees weakened and all the air ripped out of his lungs as they were absorbed into him. "What the...?"
Maia swore viciously as she buckled, gripping Az frantically to stay upright. But the birds that ate at Azrail's strength must be waning Maia's too, because she fell to the hard ground, dragging Az with her. Pain cracked through his knees, and he twisted on instinct to catch Maia before her face hit the ground.
"Breathe," he hissed, pushing hair off her face to meet her eyes, his teeth gritted against the sensation of something being torn out of him. More birds brushed over his skin and vanished into him like a poison he couldn’t help but absorb.
Several steps ahead, Bryon growled and thudded to the dirt, Ark knocked from his arms. The grunt the golden guard made, despite everything going to shit, was a relief to Azrail's ears.
He knew what the smoke was, had read about it as a child when he thought it was a thing of myth, not a real terror that could kill him. Before the Levaen devoured its prey, it sapped all the life from them with wave after wave of noxious mist. That was what hung in the air, what the tiny birds were made of, what stunk this whole place.
The giant black vultures circling above weren’t the real threat. They’d only known what was going to happen and shown up to devour what was left.
Az felt the mist ripple through him, stealing his power, his strength, and draining his life, and even when his own deadly smoke blasted from him, nothing he did stopped the crimson birds hitting him.
He knew what realm this was now; the shadow realm where beasts went to die. Az and his mate were going to die like animals.
"Come on," he slurred, holding Maia with limp hands, breathing shallow breaths. He reached for his earth magic, but it was already slippery and evasive. It had lost too much power to form even a vine in his hand.
"Az," Maia whispered, fumbling for his hand and linking their fingers. "Something's wrong with me."
"Hold on," he pleaded, his tongue thick and clumsy in his mouth, his limbs brittle and muscles limp. He lost what balance he had left, slumping onto his side in the dirt, his breathing jerky and faltering as he watched Maia struggle to get closer.
He felt the Wolven Lord’s power fade from his reach, like the Levaen slurped it all up, and even though he fought to keep his eyes open, his eyelids shuttered.
Hold on,he tried to repeat, but he couldn't even slur anymore. Darkness closed around him as the Levaen's mist erupted in another wave of wings and talons, fatal for Azrail. The last thing he felt was Maia's fingers flexing around his, and then he was gone.
