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“It did,” Nesta snapped. “I felt it.”
“Shit,” Azriel said.
“We need to run,” Bryce said.
“No,” Nesta said, silver fire in her eyes again. “That thing doesn’t get out of this fight alive.”
As if in answer and challenge, the Wyrm leapt from the water, a massive, powerful surge, jaws opening wide toward Nesta and Azriel and Bryce—
A flap of Azriel’s wings and the three of them were airborne, faster than even the Wyrm could attack. It narrowly missed Azriel’s booted feet as it dove again, vanishing once more.
“We need it restrained,” Nesta said to Azriel. “So I can get close with Ataraxia.”
“If your power didn’t kill it, there’s no saying Ataraxia will, either,” Azriel panted, landing them on the bank. “It breaks through my tethers like they’re spiderwebs.”
“Then we get something else to do the fighting for us,” Nesta said, and Azriel whirled to her, as if in alarm.
But Bryce said, “Fine.” And reached a hand out to Azriel. “Give me the Starsword.” She’d led them into this mess—she could try to get them out of it. The Starsword had killed Reapers. Maybe it would kill this thing, too.
“Don’t you dare,” Azriel began—but not to Bryce. Dread paled his golden skin. “Nesta—”
Something metallic gleamed like sunshine in Nesta’s hand. A mask.
“Nesta,” Azriel warned, panic sharpening his voice, but too late. She closed her eyes and shoved it onto her face. A strange, cold breeze swept through the tunnel.
Bryce had endured that wind before, in the Bone Quarter. A wind of death, of decay, of quiet. The hair on her arms rose. And her blood chilled to ice as Nesta opened her eyes to reveal only silver flame shining there.
Whatever that mask was, whatever power it had … death lay within it.
“Take it off,” Azriel snarled, but Nesta extended a hand into the darkness of the tunnel.
Mortal, an ancient, bone-dry voice whispered in Bryce’s head. You are mortal, and you shall die. Memento mori. Memento mori, memento—
Bone clicked in the darkness. The earth shook.
Azriel grabbed Bryce, tugging her back against him as he retreated toward the wall, as if it’d offer any shelter from whatever approached. The Starsword and Truth-Teller hummed and pulled at Bryce’s spine, and her hands itched, like she could feel the weapons in her palms—
She didn’t see what it was that Nesta drew from the dark before the Wyrm found them.
As it had before, it leapt from the river, thrashing into the narrow tunnel, blocking the way back. Azriel’s shield glowed blue around them. Jaws open wide to reveal rows of flesh-shredding teeth, the Wyrm shot right for them.
But something massive and white slammed into the Wyrm instead. A creature of pure bone, larger than the Wyrm.
The skeleton they’d encountered down the tunnel. Reanimated.
Its jaws snapped for the Wyrm, long arms ending in claws finding purchase on either side of the Wyrm’s unholy mouth.
The Wyrm shrieked, but the creature held firm, biting down on the Wyrm’s head and shaking, shaking, shaking—
Azriel dragged Bryce back, sword and dagger calling to her to draw them, use them. But he kept pulling her away, deeper into the tunnel as the undead thing and the Wyrm grappled with each other. The ceiling shook, debris shattering on the floor. Azriel arched a wing, shielding them both from its slicing rain.
But there was nothing in that world to shield them from the being standing a few feet away.
Hair drifting on a phantom breeze, Nesta glowed with silver fire. Still wearing her mask. A finger pointed toward the fight. Commanding that creature of bone and death to attack the Wyrm. Again. Again.
“What is she—” Bryce began, but Azriel clamped a hand over her mouth, hauling her farther down the tunnel.
So Bryce could only watch in awe and utter terror as Nesta’s fingers closed into a fist.
