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The kid’s eyes bulged, his mouth gaping at whatever was behind Boraleashe, a warning that was too late. Razor-sharp claws slashed across his chest, slicing through his armor.
Liquid heat covered his torso before he was thrown across the field. His body slammed into the side of a towering elm before he fell to the ground in a heap of pain and defeat.
Boraleashe was on all fours, spitting blood across the once white snow. Warning snarls were directed his way, the creatures circling him. He tried to get to his feet, yelling in agony at the white-hot fire licking up his chest and into his throat. The scent of fresh blood—his blood—invaded his senses.
Boraleashe’s guard commander’s booming voice rang in his ears, the ground vibrating beneath his palms at their arrival. Boraleashe opened his mouth to shout at them to go back and choked on the blood pooling in his mouth.
He needed to somehow warn his battalion that their swords and spears would be useless against the trolls, but all that escaped his throat were strangled gurgles. He had one hand gripping the shredded armor over his seeping wound, and with his other, he tried his hardest to generate enough wind to prevent the demonic beasts from delivering the final blow of brutality that would end his torment.
He whispered a prayer to the gods, staggering upright, tugging at the last amount of life left in his wounded core. He refused to die on his hands and knees. Standing shakily, he closed his eyes and waited for the end.
“There! He’s over there. Move it!”
Boraleashe wanted to double over and plunge his own spear into his gut at the sound of Enosabe’s voice screaming across the blood-soaked battlefield. And if his oldest was there, then that meant—
“I’m right behind you!” Kallos answered, terror tinging her voice when her shimmering eyes met his, then traveled to the blood soaking through his chest plate. “No! Father!”
Both of his daughters were there and in grave danger. So was the fate of Amárach. He couldn’t allow them to face off with the trolls—he wouldn’t allow them to risk their lives.
Enosabe was the first to reach him, dismounting her powerful war steed and landing at his side in a defensive stance. She wielded a spear in one hand and a pearl-handled sword in the other. Her sharp eyes didn’t linger on him, her mind focused on the threat in front of her.
“Be!” Kallos skidded to a halt at her sister’s side, tears flooding her eyes. “Father,” she cried while staring at his fatal wound.
Boraleashe tried to clear the fog of pain from his mind and the blood clogging in his throat, struggling to communicate through the terror. His oldest spoke the words he was unable to.
“Father can protect himself! Wipe those goddamn tears and get your head in the fight, sister.”
They stood in front of him as though they were his personal guards. Boraleashe staggered backward, shaky on his feet, the tree at his back bearing much of his weight. He wanted to leap in front of his daughters and protect them, but he didn’t even possess the strength to raise his arms over his head.
“Run,” he coughed and spat blood, begging his heirs to be smarter than this.
“Fuck that! Amárach is ours to protect,” Enosabe swore, stabbing her spear into the ground. She leaned forward, inhaling the frigid winter air deep into her lungs.
Boraleashe was just able to slam both hands over his ears before his oldest opened her mouth wide and screamed her battle cry across the open field, creating a sonic blast that threw the beasts hundreds of feet away.
His daughters were not his direct descendants, so they did not possess the power of harnessing the wind, but they were still titanesses of his blood, and they held unique abilities and strength that made them a force when combined.
Kallos knocked her fist on her sister’s Spartan helmet in admiration, then yelled for the army to maintain their positions. “Hold this line! No matter what!”
It took a lot longer this time, but of course, the beasts were able to shake off the effects of Enosabe’s sonic waves of rage and come at their intended target again. They were programmed to never stop until the Snow Moon’s target was eliminated.
“Run, my daughters. Please,” Boraleashe tried again, feeling his life force leaving this realm. His voice was a mere whisper now. They couldn’t hear him amid the commotion. They didn’t realize the severity of his wounds and that he was dying only inches away from them.
Boraleashe closed his eyes, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up. He tried to focus his last few seconds on the sudden warmth encompassing him like a weighted blanket. The air shifted around him, the frigid temperature of Amárach heating to a degree that stunned Boraleashe’s world into complete silence.
