C H A P T E R T H I R T Y- S E V E N
rheguld reaper was here.A Claws tore through Thea’s shoulder and she screamed as she was sent hurtling through the air, colliding with a tree and sliding to the forest floor with a muffled cry. But she had seen what happened to those who didn’t move fast enough. Biting back a yelp of pain, she sprung to her feet, ripping the shield from her back and bracing it in front of her, scanning the darkening forest.
Where are you? Pain blazed at her open wound, hot blood gushing down her arm, but she staggered forward, clutching her sword, trying to peer through the black shadows that swam around her.
How it had gotten to Thezmarr undetected didn’t matter right now. She just had to survive. She had to find Cal and Kipp and escape — A roar rattled the forest, loud enough that she felt it in her bones.
And there, the reaper appeared, towering amongst the trees, making the earth beneath her boots quiver.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. How in the realms was she going to manage this? She’d seen what they were capable of in Delmira. She’d seen what they’d done to Lachin and the others… Keep a cool head, she told herself, pressing her back to a nearby tree and ignoring the searing agony at her shoulder. Was there more than one? Had they already attacked her friends? The fortress?
Wren? She pushed the barrage of questions from her mind and adjusted her grip on her sword, the blood trailing down her arm making her hands slippery.
Focus, she commanded.
There was a flash of white and suddenly Thea’s blade was sliding down a long, sharp claw, blocking it from slicing into her face. Gasping, Thea parried with it, using her shield to trap the attacking limb. She whirled away, avoiding the rapid slash of the creature’s other claw, already gleaming with her blood.
She could do this. She had trained for this. She silenced her thoughts, slowed the thundering of her heart. She knew she had to find that place, deep inside herself, that pocket of calm before the kill.
Her eyes flew open and Thea jumped aside, dodging the whip of a shadow lashing at her. The tip of it kissed her forearm and she screamed, her vision blurring with tears.
It was the agony of a blade red hot from a forge fire, searing her flesh at the slightest touch.
The creature paused, sniffing the air as though savouring the heavy scent of her suffering. It tilted its horned head, studying her, its ribbons of darkness curling, violently curious. The thing stalked
towards her, its power seeking her out.
Thea shifted one foot behind the other, not taking her eyes off the reaper as they circled one another in the forest.
It was toying with her, taking its time, revelling in the hunt, the game.
But Thea could hunt, too. She twirled her sword menacingly. If it was blood the shadow wraith wanted, it was blood it would get.
She deflected another slash of its gruesome claws and took the impact of its darkness on her shield with a grunt, the force of it driving her boots into the damp earth, the power of it vibrating through her bones.
Feinting right, Thea delivered a hard thrust of her blade to the creature’s sinewy leg.
It shrieked, the ear-piercing sound echoing through the trees.
She lunged again, trying to push her advantage.
But the reaper was clever, experienced in slaying fighters far greater than her, and its patience was suddenly wearing thin. It wanted its prey.
Darting away from another attack, Thea wracked her brain for how the Warswords had done it in Delmira. But they had worked in a team to bring the creatures down and they had Naarvian steel to carve out those dark hearts… And with her friends nowhere in sight, more than likely dead somewhere nearby.
Here, there was only her. And she could not hold it off forever, she could not bring it down on her own.
Maybe if she’d had some rope, or Cal’s bow, she could delay it enough for her to run, but she had neither of those things.
It lunged for her with claws and shadows, ribbons of black whipping at her, coiling past the barrier of her shield, slashing at her legs. Thea scrambled back through the blood-soaked leaves, chest heaving with the effort. She had completed her initiation test with all its dangers and obstacles, only to walk straight into a reaper’s trap. Her limbs were burning, her muscles screaming with every movement, and yet she didn’t stop.
She threw herself forward with a yell, blade slashing at the creature’s exposed limbs. No matter how tired she was, she would fight to the end. She was a Thezmarrian warrior through and through — Thea went flying, and she slammed into another tree, her teeth singing at the impact, the shock jarring her whole body.
But no, this wouldn’t be the end of her. It couldn’t be. Unless she wasn’t to die, but become one of those monsters… She lurched forward, vision blurring —
A shout carried through the air.
Not her own.
And suddenly, the blaze of flaming twin blades lit up the darkness.
Wilder Hawthorne landed in between her and the reaper.
Thea let out a strangled gasp, her knees buckling at the sight.
But the creature wasn’t deterred. It hissed at its new target and the Warsword twirled his fiery swords in invitation.
The reaper gave an enraged shriek as it lunged for Wilder. The predator was a blur of slashing claws and lashes of darkness, but the Warsword knew this deadly dance. He ducked and withdrew from the advance, before attacking in a flurry of slices and strikes to its torso. ‘Thea?’ Wilder called.
She was half-collapsed against the tree behind her, panting through the reprieve the warrior had
given her. Forcing down a breath of air, Thea pushed off from the trunk and raised her own sword. ‘To your right.’ She lifted her shield up to block a thrashing whip of darkness, and gripping her weapon determinedly, she sliced through the shadows, fighting her way to the exposed side of the creature, where she delivered a hard thrust with her blade.
The reaper shrieked in pain and Thea twisted her sword, wringing out every drop of agony that
she could. ‘Block!’ Wilder shouted.
Thea’s shield arm came up again instinctively, just in time to deflect a deadly blow of those razor- sharp claws.
Her strength wavered beneath the crushing force of the reaper’s power and she stumbled, her body suddenly feeling every slice, every bruise. Thea remained crouched behind her shield, wheezing as she tried to gather herself.
The monster seemed to sense her weakening resolve and it struck out more savagely than ever, its ribbons of onyx magic coming for her in a relentless wave of attacks. She couldn’t block them all, she took one on her shield, and slashed another away with her sword, but the third… The third lash struck her across the top of her chest and she screamed and darkness carved into her, her vision going black and then —
The scorched courtyard smelt of blood and heather.
Bodies lay lifeless on the cobbles; seeping crimson into the ground while the wheels on an upturned cart still spun, mead flowing from broken barrels.
Fresh claw marks ravaged the high walls, carving through the tiny flowers which sprouted even in deep winter, the echoes of ear-piercing shrieks still vibrated through the stone there.
Tangled scents of iron and earth drifted up into the night’s air, dancing with the shadows, remnants from the wraiths that retreated into the roiling storm above.
Darkness had descended upon Thezmarr, and at its heart was a copper-haired little girl, no older than six, clutching a necklace of dried flowers and a small scythe of Naarvian steel to her pounding chest.
The last of the onyx power left the blade in curling tendrils, wisps of magic swallowed by rolling thunder that seemed to call her name.
Anya.
With a quiet cry, Anya dropped the scythe, the steel singing as it hit the stone, as it fell amidst the rivers of blood that trickled towards her slippered feet.
Time hung suspended for a moment, and there was nothing. No other noise, no other movement.
Everything was still and silent. ‘You condemn her to death?’ said a voice.
Death. Anya had never fully understood this word. Her mother had tried to explain it to her once… What was once here is no longer. It has moved on to another world, guarded by the great god, Enovius. But it had made no sense then and it made no sense now. ‘She is a daughter of darkness, a monster. She needs to be dealt with before she unleashes more madness upon us all,’ another voice replied. ‘She has brought the truth of the prophecy to our very
doorstep…’ ‘Guild Master, you can’t mean —’ ‘In the shadow of a fallen kingdom, in the eye of the storm
A daughter of darkness will wield a blade in one hand And rule death with the other When the skies are blackened, in the end of days The Veil will fall.
The tide will turn when her blade is drawn.
A dawn of fire and blood.’
Then Anya was somewhere else. A stony shore beneath her feet. ‘I’m sorry, lass,’ a man murmured. ‘There was no convincing him… If Starling was at Thezmarr, it might have been different. He can always get through to the Guild Master. But… I don’t know where he is, lass. Nowhere close enough to help you now.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I don’t know how you did what you did, but… though you don’t look it, you’re dangerous.’ Anya was tired and hungry and scared. Dazed, she let him take her in his arms. He carried her for some time beneath the waning moonlight and she slept against his shoulder, for in sleep, he could have been her father, sturdy and strong.
Only when they came to a stop much later did the little girl wake fully, the fear setting in. ‘I want to go home,’ she cried. ‘I want Mama and Papa.’ The warrior wore a pained expression as he set her down in front of the mouth of a dark cave. ‘It’ll all be over soon,’ he told her, smoothing her hair from her eyes. ‘Your parents, they’re in there, waiting.’ He pointed inside the cave.
In the distance, thunder clapped.
A lie, a soft voice told her.
The little girl knew what a lie was. She had learnt to tell them herself not all that long ago… But this lie was different… Like the shadows that had whipped through the fortress courtyard; the promise of something sinister.
And yet, the cave called to her… A song of recognition, of welcome.
Anya, it called.
She took an unsteady step forward, the warmth of the man leaving her.
His words followed her in a broken whisper, ‘May your death be swift and painless. May you rest well with Enovius, little one.’ They faded away along with the man behind her, her feet moving, one after the other, as though in a trance. Anya walked into the cave, deeper and deeper, until she was alone.
For a moment, the pitch-black swallowed her.
There was no swift and painless death waiting for her. There was no death at all.
A breath rattled from within – not her own.
But Anya was not afraid.
For she knew the darkness, and the darkness knew her.
Thea felt untethered from herself as the strange image faded before her and the rest of the world fell away like flecks of ash from a fire. She was dying, she realised, her fate stone had met its match in the black lashings of the shadow wraith. Pain wrapped around every part of her, a searing brand of torment.
Thea rasped for air, choking on the scent of burnt hair once more.
Claws assaulted her and there was no time to think on what she’d seen. She could only think of the
agony as she braced herself behind her shield. Unimaginable power knocked her back, stealing the air from her lungs. She tasted iron on her tongue as blood filled her mouth.
The darkness came for her.
And Thea let it take her. She had tried; she had tried so hard to leave her mark on this world, but Wren had been right. She was not invincible, and even destiny was no contest to the dark forces sent from beyond the Veil — ‘Don’t you dare give up now,’ came Wilder’s deep voice, shattering the rapture of impending death.
The sound brought her back from the brink and stirred something within. Coming back to herself, Thea ignored the pain as a familiar pressure began to build from the centre of her. Something ancient coursed through her veins and she tipped her head to the darkened sky, dropping her weapons. Her hands unfurled at her sides, power pulsing at her palms.
White lightning split the sky and Althea Zoltaire claimed it as her own.
Magic danced at her fingertips and without thinking, she brought its force down upon the shadow
wraith.
The creature’s scream broke her trance.
The bolt of power vanished, but Thea wouldn’t waste this chance. She snatched up her blade and was on her feet again in a second, her whole body charged with surging strength. She advanced on the wraith where it scrambled upright, its skin smouldering where the lightning had struck.
Thea grit her teeth against the beat of lingering pain. Her hand was slick with blood and sweat around her sword, but it didn’t stop her from throwing an upward cut with the back edge.
Black and red blood rained. ‘To me!’ Thea shouted to her fellow warrior, seeing their opening.
Wilder was at her side in an instant, and together, they forced the weakened creature back, brandishing fire and steel against its shadows.
Side by side, they fought. Thea could feel the searing heat of the Warsword’s blazing weapons as he broke away from the clash of claws, only to wield them with even more power, throwing high horizontal cuts to the wraith’s torso.
The creature screamed again; the sound vibrating through the entire forest, the entire realm.
Thea threw her shield aside and sprinted for the beast, launching herself into the air. She looped her blade around as she’d seen the Warsword himself do, and with all her remaining strength, she delivered a two-handed thrust to the demon’s chest.
Her sword broke through leathered skin, cartilage, muscle and bone.
Suddenly she was falling with the reaper.
Beside her, Wilder had also leapt — They crashed into the monster, Wilder landing right on top of it, pinning it to the forest floor with each flaming blade embedded in the creature’s biceps.
The thing screeched and thrashed in agony, but couldn’t dislodge itself.
Wilder’s face slick with gore and sweat, he reached for his belt, where he unsheathed Malik’s dagger.
Thea didn’t take her eyes off him as he held it out to her, grip first, his silver eyes ablaze with determination. His voice was hoarse as he said, ‘You’re forged with blood and steel now.’ Thea didn’t hesitate, her hand was steady as she took the blade and carved into its chest. Black and red blood oozed from the incision site, as well as dozens of other wounds while Thea worked, cutting through foul tissue and tendons.
Its screams weakened and its whole body heaved a strangled wheeze before it fell silent beneath her blade.
Thea slid the dagger deeper, and Wilder’s gaze never left her as she took the reaper’s heart.
