The light flashing above shadowed Xenique’s expression, and for a moment I feared what deaths she was seeing. What warriors’ spirits were falling.
“The heart.” She swallowed. “His weakness.”
I nearly laughed at the prospect of Echnid having a heart. “If you speak true, Xenique, you need to get me to him.”
“That is why I am here now.” She nodded, fear still in her eyes, but her gaze turned skyward. “To help open the way to right this.”
Following her attention, I paused. The power churning within those lightning-streaked clouds was jaw-dropping. A dense heart, pulsing as if life breathed just beyond. A giant beast ready to devour what waited below. It rivaled even what I’d seen Echnid blast across the desert.
And it was that amassed magic that truly made me understand. The Angels had been waiting millennia for this singular chance—whatever their reason—to bring Echnid down. They’d been waiting to show that final hand.
It was all or nothing for them tonight. Though I could not care less about their motives, perhaps we could work together.
“Thank you,” I said.
And then, I ducked around her and ran.
I’d only taken steps when the sky ruptured. Purple lightning streaked down, catching the seraph sword in my palm, and an arch exploded around me. Blinding and rushing. Walls of sparkling Angellight slammed up, forming a perfect tunnel. At first, they were the deepest purples, but then, constellations broke out within the light, shimmering silver and whirling with?—
Oceans.
Gaveny joined the ranks of Valyrie and Xenique, carving out a path through the city for me. My eyes stung, and I gasped over breaths.
Fires roared along the base of the walls, lapping at the ground and scorching any debris that stood in my way. Inky tendrils of black and pure gold joined in. Ptholenix, Bant, and Damien. And finally, prickling clouds rolled through.
Thorn.
Even Thorn, whose mind was too far gone to reason with his crimes.
All the Angels who had betrayed and used me for their own means now sent gusts of light at my back. My seraph magic purred in acceptance, and I raced faster toward the god, flying over rubble and ruin.
Alone, the god’s form shadowed the end of the tunnel, growing larger by the second.
I moved so quickly he didn’t understand what the explosion of light surrounding him had been. Hadn’t realized the Angels he turned his back on were prepared to drive in the blade.
The whites of his eyes became clear, and Echnid threw up a wall of mist.
But it was too late.
I swept out my sword and sliced cleanly through his power, as though the god’s magic was nothing more than steam.
And as my blow came down, I drew back the Vincienzo dagger.
And with the most satisfying give, the blade imbued with the power to raise and slay myths sank into Echnid’s chest, splintering bone and piercing a heart I hadn’t believed he had.
Godsblood poured across my skin, and I relished the warmth of it as I stared into the Warrior God’s eyes. As I watched dark irises part the milky white. As I twisted the blade and refused to break his gaze.
The light of all seven Angels roared around us, the tunnel becoming a howl of rainbow wind, the effervescent heart of a tornado.
Echnid gasped, his frail grip latching on my wrist, but I forced in the blade.
“I hope you die seeing nothing but my rage,” I whispered. My own seraph magic erupted, crackling through the rumbling orb surrounding us. Fire and lightning and stars, I was made of the universes the gods built, and as the hilt pressed flat against his chest, I ripped the masterpieces to shreds.
But his skin…his skin on the hand gripping mine was not paling. It was darkening to a healthy hue. As were his eyes and hair.
“My seraph,” he wheezed, the sound so cold and cruel that my heart stuttered, “I am not dead yet.”
And he shoved the blade from his heart, sending me crashing back against the wall of light.
