The Angel’s words echoed in his wake, both a threat and a vow. Something I couldn’t peel apart—couldn’t tell if it meant to choke off my life right here or fuel my anger into battle.
Perhaps that was what they wanted. Us feeling small and lost, unsure whom to trust. Those who were afraid were easier targets. But I took that fear and sharpened it to a point. Everything Echnid had done to us heated the forge. The lives snuffed out too early were the coals, the feuds Damien and Bant had passed down to their warriors were the molten steel hungry to be shaped, and the memories of Echnid stealing my autonomy were the hammer.
My body was my own. My mind was my own. And I was the weapon he never meant to make.
And now, with the imbued Vincienzo dagger burning into my thigh, I faced the god—poised to kill.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Cypherion
Vale was madeof wrath as we rode Dynaxtar high over the city.
My Fatesworn bond had gone wild, and for a moment I’d feared it was being torn in a way only death could sever. But it had thrashed and thrashed, and as I followed that instinctual sign in my soul to find the woman at the other end, I’d known it wasn’t Vale suffering. Not physically.
That was pure despair echoing from her side.
I’d had a selfish rush of relief, then terror when I burst around the corner to see Vale crashing to her knees behind the wall of Valyrie’s light—Harlen dead at the Angel’s feet. Then, that slicing pain was my own, too. Harlen hadn’t deserved this, no one falling through the capital did. Harlen had done nothing but atone for his unintentional betrayal, and he’d been such a dependable ally since, leading the Starsearchers and calling their troops to our side. Organizing the preparation of the imbued blades our forces were fighting with below.
Spirits, I’d been so damn certain Valyrie was on our side.
We’d hidden Harlen’s body, then hopped on the khrysaor. As I searched over the khrysaor’s wing, Starsearchers shoutedresults of their readings to other clans, telling them where to head to help evacuate the city, where the gorgons were going next.
Vale shook before me, her tears dried but their tracks a constant reminder as she gritted her teeth and said, “The Angels will pay.”
A collision echoed high in the sky, a shower of silver-blue flames and gold sparks. Ophelia and Jezebel. No Angellight followed in response, and I prayed to every cursed Spirit that was a good sign.
“They sure will, Stargirl,” I swore along with her.
What I couldn’t figure out waswhythe Angels were killing their warriors. Gaveny had shot Ezalia. Valyrie, Harlen. And I’d witnessed Thorn and Ptholenix take out members of their own clans before I found Vale. I hadn’t seen any of them amid the foot soldiers since.
You or her. Vale said Valyrie gave Harlen the option. And Gaveny had claimed he didn’t want it to be this way. They weren’t just taking out their people, they were each targeting one specific warrior.
Why? My jaw ticked over the question as I searched the ground.
“There!” I shouted, pointing to where Malakai fought a pair of gorgons, Mila, Barrett, and Dax with him. Thank the fucking Spirits they all appeared okay, even if the triangular wedge between low storage buildings was strewn with fallen pillars. One entire wall had crumbled, blocking the way back to the plaza at the heart of the city where light flashed animatedly.
Dynaxtar dove, landing in the center of the battle and roaring a column of blue fire that had the gorgons scampering back long enough for Vale and me to dismount. I pulled her after me, not wanting to let go of her hand after what she just went through.
“Cyph!” Malakai called, racing to me as the others backed the gorgons to the edge of the courtyard.
“Are you guys okay?” I asked. “We were all wondering where you’d been.” Despite the dust and grime covering him, he seemed in one piece. He’d found weapons at least—a sword, and he still had Lucidius’s dagger.
“We’re fine.” He waved me off, guiding Vale and me into a shadowed corner. “We were still in the capitol building when we heard the first attack. But listen, Cyph, I need to talk to you.”
His words were rushed, urgency causing him to fidget. His eyes flicked between me and where Mila was attempting to corner the blonde gorgon, Dynaxtar guarding her back and breathing a ring of that blue fire around the demon. This small pocket boasted no shelter but had solid corners. They’d lured the gorgons here to try to keep them contained and away from commoners and the fighting lines.
“About what?” I asked. Aboomsounded, not a collision above this time, but somewhere in the city. I focused on Malakai, though.
“When Mila and I snuck off tonight, we ended up in a room with this mural of Artale. And Xenique was handing her—Duck!” He shoved me down, an arrow embedding in the wall above our heads.
“Fucking Spirits,” I cursed, casting a glance over my shoulder to find yet another gorgon.
Two men trailed her, both radiating with that same kind of unnatural beauty and grace. Their dark hair was styled pristinely, black jackets and pants cut perfectly to their lean frames. Nearly identical, they marched with easy steps behind the woman in a flowing white gown with the same dark hair and olive skin. And while they appeared otherworldly, they also seemed to blend perfectly into the night, like they were carved from Ambrisk itself.
Moving ahead of Vale, I pulled my scythe, and Malakai took up a spot beside me. Fuck, they caught us with our back to the wall. We couldn’t pivot, but at least that meant they couldn’t sneak up on us.
Malakai continued, “Xenique was handing her mother a scythe, Cypherion. One that looked an awful lot like yours.”
