The concentrated power exploded toward the Mindshaper, and for a moment, my heart fucking sang. My mind emptied out as if the torture I’d suffered at the hands of his clan was dying with this blast, and that beating energy reared inside me. But Thorn’s eyes locked on mine.
At the last moment, he turned so the perfect shot narrowly grazed his wing.
I swore, turning back to the cannon. “Reload!”
The warriors along the building’s edge fired a barrage of arrows. A number of them struck true along the foot soldiers, and the warriors fired at anyone that appeared to be fighting the alliance army—though I wasn’t sure what that made them—but none touched Thorn. Seviren helped me swing the cannon around, trying to follow the Angel’s path.
“Where did he go?” Seviren breathed, wiping sweat from his brow.
Thorn had vanished. Right among his own storm cloud light, he’d been swallowed up by the night.
A buzz hummed through the air, my pulse spiking. And then, lightning struck the roof beneath our feet. It caught the crates of pulverized rock and sent a barrage of cobalt flames igniting around us.
“What’s the order?” Seviren yelled. Seawatchers rushed to stamp out the fires in a losing battle.
“GO!” I commanded. Another crate exploded, the heat searing. “Get to the other lookout points and man the borders.”
They fled as I swiveled the cannon around, the strain nothing. I pulled the lever, lining up another shot and preparing to ignite the powder at a moment’s notice.
“Where are you, you fucking eternal bastard?” I muttered to myself. Flames burned higher on the roof. I only had minutes before the thing caved in, the bronze adornments melting in the heat of the pulverized magic.
But a cruel, cackling voice dripped down my spine from behind me. “Here.”
And magic plunged into my brain with the force of a thousand damn lightning bolts, every tortured emotion that built me roaring to life. The darkness that had consumed me at my sister’s death mounted, the buzzing power from the Blackfyre surging it on.
Hastily, I tried to shove every thought and feeling and thing I cherished deep down, locked away where no one could touch them. Where the Mindshaper couldn’t taint them.
But he took the rest.
Chapter Seventy-One
Malakai
Mila doveout of the way of a poisoned arrow and my heart fucking crashed around the cage in my chest. Angels, I would fuckingkillEchnid.
I ripped a blade from my vambrace and threw it at Rozelyn, the white-haired gorgon who’d been my own personal fuckingplaguesince Damenal. Like she had a sick fascination in knowing my whereabouts at all times and trying to lure me in. It made my stomach curl.
The tip of the knife dragged across her cheek, leaving a stark red line against her blue-tinged skin, entirely shifted to her demonic form now. I avoided her eyes, dropping to help Mila up.
“Nice throw, Warrior Prince,” she said, brushing dirt from her bare hands. We couldn’t find any gloves her size or a full set of leathers, so she’d slipped into a pair of tight pants and torn the skirt off her dress, strapping a slightly loose breast plate over her chest.
Alongside the tunic I still wore from Barrett and Dax’s ceremony, vambraces and weapon’s belt secured over it, it was the best we could muster up.
“Thanks, but now she’s bleeding,” I pointed out. We’d have to be careful to avoid that. In her fully shifted gorgon form, we’d die from any of that poison making it into our bloodstreams.
Mila nodded grimly, scanning the area for the blonde gorgon who had threatened her. “Where are the others?”
“Barrett and Dax have Salteaire,” I said, keeping my attention on Rozelyn. I tracked her steps, hands, anywhere that blood may be dripping from her body without looking at her face. “Cypherion killed another.”
We backed down the ally and emerged into an empty square. As long as we kept the gorgons away from the general public we were doing well.
The space was wrecked, a fountain in the center in ruins and shooting water straight into the air, like a blast of power had shattered the stone. Rubble sprinkled the courtyard, rolling beneath my boots, but the buildings rimming the square—apartments by the looks of it—were either empty or the inhabitants knew to hide, thank the fucking Spirits.
“And we’re here,” a voice answered Mila. And from the shadows of the courtyard stepped those two males, dressed head to toe in black, suit jackets buttoned immaculately and shoes unscuffed.
“Demigods,” I growled, pulling my sword as Rozelyn emerged with a lethal grin. Children of a god and the demonic challengers to the seraphs. What kind of powers would they hold?
Barrett and Dax charged into the courtyard, herding Salteaire as Mila searched the males. It was clear from her dazed eyes that she was seeing through a veil, using those Reflector powers to identify them. “They were born in this realm. The ones Echnid formed from shadow and fire.”
