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‘Thea!’ Wilder shouted. ‘We need you.’
Thea leapt between the trees and wraiths, twirling her dagger menacingly as she approached the monster beneath Torj’s punishing blows. The Warsword left her to her carving as he took on another.
Wilder swore as a lash of dark power burned through his sleeve, setting his skin on fire with pain. Ignoring it, he started to duel another pair of wraiths, both larger than the rest. They weren’t reapers, but they were definitely leaders. They hissed and circled him as though he were prey.
He was anything but prey.
Wilder threw himself at them, his swords a blur of silver as the blades met and cleaved through the tough, leathery flesh.
More lightning lit up the forest, and the wraiths shrieked in unison, as though celebrating the power that pulsed around them.
Wren screamed, but Wilder couldn’t see her.
His gaze shot to Thea, who stood before a huge wraith, her dagger lodged in its chest, out of her reach. The monster batted her away as though she were a ragdoll.
A scream caught in Wilder’s throat and he flung himself towards her as her back hit a tree. But Thea scrambled to her feet, her attention snapping from the monster who held her dagger captive in its chest to where her sister’s scream had come from.
She didn’t even notice Wilder coming towards her. Her attention was singular, focused beyond a line of trees, her jaw working as her hand reached for her fate stone. She ripped it from her neck and cast it aside.
‘I don’t fucking think so,’ she growled, lightning dancing at her fingertips as she ran to her sister.
‘Thea!’ Wilder bellowed.
All that killing calm was gone, and in its place was pure terror. The same terror he’d felt when he’d watched the reaper pierce Thea’s chest with its talons. He vaulted towards the wraith that had thrown Thea, catching it by the dagger that protruded from its sternum. Flesh and bone tore beneath Wilder’s weight and he wrenched the Naarvian steel from its body, only to deliver a criss-cross of slashes that left its skin hanging and its heart exposed for the taking.
Wilder obliged.
And then a crack of thunder shook the whole forest.
Wilder ran for Thea. ‘Thea, stop!’ he shouted. ‘You’re like a fucking beacon to them!’
But then he saw why she had acted.
Both Wren and Kipp were hanging in mid-air, in a swirling mass of obsidian power. Wren’s lightning was fading, as though the darkness were suffocating it.
Wilder watched in horror as Thea threw herself into the fray, drawing lightning from the sky, which had opened up and unleashed a downpour upon them all.
Whips of shadow magic came for her, and she threw her lightning at it with full force. All Wilder could do was keep fighting the wraiths surging across the forest floor around them, Torj at his back, Cal shooting his dwindling supply of arrows into their wings and limbs, pinning them down for the slaughter.
With all his Warsword strength and agility, Wilder cut them down, tore their hearts from their chests and fought his way to Thea, who wielded lightning at her trembling fingertips, her eyes mirroring the storm around her.
The assault she summoned was unlike anything he had seen before. Multiple forks of lightning speared down to the earth, leaving woodland and wraith alike in cinders, no Naarvian steel needed. Wind ripped through the woods, stripping trees of their bark and leaves, tearing at the shadows whipping around them all.
The ground trembled.
Several strikes of blinding light hit the forest.
Wilder’s hand shot up to shield his eyes against the force of it.
Suddenly, there was a quiet breath in the storm and Wilder blinked until the spots left his vision, lowering his arm and taking in the destruction before them.
Where the largest wraiths had stood, scorched hearts lay steaming in the dirt. Wilder loosed a trembling breath, unable to quite believe what he was seeing.
Thea had burned out their hearts with her lightning.
Any remaining wraiths spread their wings and shot through the canopy, leaving a shower of leaves in their wake.
Both Wren and Kipp were released. They crouched on all fours, dry heaving into the dirt, sheens of sweat coating their brows, their faces drawn and pale.
