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Bleed and live.
When I ran out of fresh skin to slice on my left arm, I swapped hands, holding Venom in my other hand and slicing through the fresh, untouched sleeve of my right arm.
Bleed and live.
Lord would not be disappointed in me. I would give every single ounce of this blood to Moira if it meant returning home to him victorious.
Whatever Lord needed of me, I would fulfill.
I owed him at least that.
Fire.
Fire.
Fire.
I let the magic run through me, and with each drop of blood that fell to the ground, it grew stronger.
Fiercer.
Hotter.
My heart pounded, cutting out any other sounds that weren’t the constant, rapid beating of blood in my ears.
I tossed my head back.
And I let go.
Fire erupted around me, so fierce and full of fury that I thought I was imagining it at first. My entire body relaxed as my magic—the blood magic—poured around me.
I no longer doubted the archangels; I no longer worried I wouldn’t have enough blood to offer them.
This was it.
Fire roared in a circle around my feet, giving off waves of heat but never touching my skin. It spread outward, crawling over the dried grass, as if awaiting an order.
I waved my hand. Fire flew into the air.
Laughter bubbled my chest, mixing with the pure euphoria I felt from the release.
More. It needed more blood.
I cut my arm again.
More flames rose.
I moved to my torso, not bothering to lift my shirt as I cut a line across my stomach.
Another rush of adrenaline fueled me.
Laughter and the sputtering of flames and chaos filled that empty, hollow space in my soul until it all went black.
The rush of adrenaline stopped. The rush of magic ceased. As quickly as it began, it was over.
Voiler stood before me, nothing short of horror on her face. She must have put out the fire, must have stopped the magic that was only beginning to fuel my body.
I could feel how much power remained, how much my body liked the strength of it.
