I shook my head, walking backward as the creatures closed in from the side rows. They pressed forward, segmenting me off from my friends. “What does that mean?”
“It means I can’t heal it. And I can’t access my magic.”
The cyphers. The trees we’d thought were nothing more than magic conduits across Gallantia but were actually gifted to repel fae spirits. In more ways than one.
“Rina, help him! Get to Mora, both of you!” I called. And I braced myself with Starfire and Angelborn. At least if I didn’t have friends fighting beside me, I could ground myself with the weapons that were extensions of my body.
The corpses rushed in from all sides. And my pulses pounded, pounded, pounded. Warred with me to run elsewhere.
One jumped at my left, and as I spun to meet it, another tugged my foot out from under me. I went crashing to the ground, my cheek scraping against rock and teeth slicing into my lip.
I flipped over, the tang of blood sharp in my mouth, and tried to scramble back, but the warrior loomed closer. I tightened mygrip on Starfire and Angelborn. No way in the Spirit Realm I’d let them go.
This corpse hovered above me, seeming even older and more aware than the others. It assessed me with a vacant stare, seeing Angels knew what within my spirit. I adjusted my grip on Angelborn, waiting for my opening.
But the dead surged, lifting his foot in an unnaturally quick motion, and stomped on my ankle.
And even through the thick leather of my boots, something cracked. A cry ripped from my throat, but I bit it back, refusing to show him pain to widen that horrifying smile.
The shadows of the other corpses shifted, surrounding me.
Predatory magic called within my blood. It wanted out, wanted to feast on the bones of these corpses.
Use me, it begged.
“No,” I gritted out, forcing it back.
It was too risky to use—too explosive.
I clenched Angelborn tighter. If this one got a step closer?—
“Alabath!” The last voice I expected to hear called through the void of the distant tunnel, and my heart leapt.
“Vincienzo!” I yelled over the pain in my ankle. “Get out of here!”
The corpse closed in on me overhead, long, gangly limbs flopping almost puppet-like.
Tolek emerged from the darkness, the dead forming a wall between us. His eyes widened as he beheld what was happening. I could hear his wrathful growl as he captured the surprised dead’s arms and wrenched them behind his back until his decaying shoulders popped, and he kicked it in the spine.
Tolek threw the warrior to the floor. “Not a fucking chance.”
“Decapitate it!” I shrieked, and he followed the order.
Panting over the pain of my ankle, I swung my own sword, forcing the others back. Tolek helped me to my feet, my step buckling.
“Injury?” he asked, standing in front of me with his sword up.
I tried to take a step and hissed. “Likely broken.”
I didn’t have time to pause to use Angellight to heal it fully. Couldn’t wait for the mountains to set it.
I willed a quick flash of Damien’s light through my veins, straight from the emblem around my neck. Only enough to soothe the ache. It was sloppy, didn’t quite work right, but between that and the adrenaline coursing through my body, I grabbed Tolek’s hand and pulled him into a limping run.
“Let me carry you,” he demanded.
“We both need our hands to fight, Tol.” It sounded more like a plea than anything—something within me calling out for help as the four remaining warriors pursued us.
Only four, though.
