And with a burst rivaling a shattering star, light exploded between my clenched fingers. Gold, effervescent, andburning. It was reckless and uncontrollable, coiling fear through my gut.
The dead screeched, an echo that would haunt me for all eternity, but its hold slackened.
I fell back to my feet, hunching over my knees, and gulped down air. My ears rang with a dull buzz. Damien’s emblem scorched my skin, but I pulled the heat into my bones and let its healing properties repair whatever was damaged in my throat.
As my vision adjusted once again to the dim tunnel, I froze at the sight before me. The rotting corpse of the warrior was nothing but a pile of ash.
The presence it had carried was gone, as dead as any resting spirit should be.
After a few moments, the world stopped spinning and the ringing faded from my ears, only to be replaced by the clash of metal against stone. Through the dust of the crumbling wall, in the dark chamber at the end of the tunnel, Lancaster, Mora, and Santorina rotated around a second corpse warrior.
Unsheathing Starfire, I ran toward them, hurtling over chunks of rock. In the damp, death-filled air, my sword sang.
This one was different than the one I’d fought. Where that had been precise, using strength gathered within ancient bones to pin me to the wall, this one was wily. It swung a claw-nailed hand at Santorina’s face—scraped across her cheek—before pivoting quickly to pounce on Mora.
The fae female struck, swiping one of her shining blades toward its neck. But the creature slyly dodged, much nimbler than the dead should be. Instead of decapitating it, Mora severed a chuck of dead flesh and bone from the warrior’s neck.
Lancaster shouted to his sister to turn, to dodge, but it was too late. In a slow, calculated movement, the creature swiveled its head toward Mora. It lunged forward, and?—
“No!” I gasped.
The corpse sank it’s cracked and rotting teeth into the female’s shoulder, through leathers and skin. Mora shrieked as the pair tumbled into the wall.
Lancaster launched himself at the dead with the force of an Angel. Mora, wrestling with the warrior atop her, gritted her teeth in a snarl. The corpse was wild, a being who—when living—had likely been untamed. One who lusted after blood and warfare. And now, in death, it appeared those traits had festered. Or maybe it had been locked up for so long, instinct had taken over.
Lancaster gripped the hungry one with a brutal force I’d never seen of fae or warrior. “I’m sorry!” he roared to his sister.
Then, he ripped the corpse off her.
And a chunk of flesh went with him, Mora’s tunic quickly soaking crimson as she cried out. Lancaster went after the corpse without remorse, dismembering him. One finger at a time.
Santorina scurried around us, crouching beside the female. With Lancaster, I circled the predator. Those jaws still snapped, now coated with Mora’s blood. And each gleaming drop ofcrimson that flew was another strike against the dead warrior’s existence.
“Magic, Mystique!” Lancaster demanded.
“I don’t know how!” I argued.
“You just did!”
I gripped Starfire tighter. “I don’t know what I did. It can hurt you all!”
“I command?—”
But I was not taking another demand from him tonight.
Before Lancaster could finish speaking, I clung to my last flimsy hope, and I struck with steel.
Starfire sliced clean through what was left of the corpse’s neck. Head and body toppled to the ground in opposite directions, and finally, the dead stilled.
“Decapitation,” Lancaster contemplated as we approached the body. “That’s what happened to the other one?”
“No,” I breathed. “But it’s something even the mountains can’t fix.” I turned away from the corpse and shoved Lancaster in the chest—hard.
“What in Aoiflyn’s?—”
“You donotcommand me during a battle again!Neverpull the bargain when it could get others hurt!”
“It didn’t,” he argued, canines flashing.
