by Jaci Miller
The remaining windwitch used the billowing smoke to push back the horde of daemons trapped on this side of the breach. He knew what the witch was trying to do. The cavernous crack was deep and if she could push them back far enough the daemons would fall to their deaths or at the very least be trapped at the bottom.
As she created a wall of wind and smoke in front of them her powers began to falter.
The altars infused the dome with an abundance of ancient magic but as the dome fractured, the magic escaped into the night sky leaving the witches of the earth without the added boost to their natural-born powers.
Fighting two daemons, Drow watched helplessly as the windwitch’s magic ebbed. The wall of thick, blustery smoke vanished allowing the horde of daemons to surge and overpower her before she could react. Her scream pierced the darkness for an excruciating moment before she was silenced by death.
After finishing off the daemons in front of him he ran toward the ones that had killed the witch. From his peripheral vision, he saw Marlee and Elyse do the same.
As the distance closed between them and the remaining daemons Marlee drew her weapon. With the magic contained within the dome weakening, they could no longer rely on their physical powers. Earth did not sustain enough elemental power to create an abundant source to fuel their magic. Without the dome’s protection and the altars’ connection to the ether, their only defense was their fighting abilities. In order to survive this night, they would have to defeat the remaining daemons on this side of the fissure and hope no others found their way across.
The daemons surged toward them at an awkward gait but with uncanny speed. The yellow light glowing behind their hollow eyes forced the rotting corpses to move in impossible ways.
They were the ultimate weapon created by dark magic.
Elyse swung her polearm back and forth cutting through withered skin. Black blood sprayed from the wounds and covered her in a thick, dripping, rancid sludge. She didn’t care. Anger coursed through her veins, and she thought of Cal, her husband, who was in Britain unaware of what was happening here at home.
I will see him again, she thought as she used the heel of her boot to push the head of a daemon from the tip of her weapon.
She thought of Marlee who stood feet away, her arrows drifting noiselessly through the night air until they found their mark. Nothing would ever be the same between them. Their paths had been irreparably altered and their friendship changed forever by an ancient feud. Whatever their fate, one thing was certain, she and Marlee would co-exist, nothing more.
As she sliced through the face of a horribly deformed daemon one thing was clear, because of her true destiny she’d lost a friend.
Marlee kicked a few of the daemon bodies into the chasm. A thud echoed back up to her as the decaying corpses found the bottom. Thick smoke stung her eyes, and she wiped at the tears. Her mind reeled at the horrors of the night, so much violence and death but at least her mind and magic were her own. Her power felt different from when she was first reborn, but it still ached of ancient betrayal, loss, and revenge. She was glad for the separation from her Keltie ancestry, but she knew somewhere in her blood and magic the ancestral race would always exist.
They’d dispatched all the daemons on this side of the breach, vanquishing them back to whatever hell spawned them in the first place.
Good riddance, she said, wiping the blade of her knife on her sleeve. Movement in the smoke caught her attention, and she turned her knife at the ready, but it was just the elf, pulling her weapon from the head of a corpse. No matter their mortal past Elyse would forever make her blood simmer with a deep-seated hatred. She wished it could be different, but she was no longer the same person. In fact, she’d become the one thing she most feared—
Before she could finish her thought, a shadow in the thick smoke behind Elyse moved.
She yelled out a warning just as the daemon emerged but the screams and sounds echoing through the field drowned out her words.
In its rotting, deformed hands it held a long blood-soaked pike, the sharp blade pointed at her back. It lumbered forward. Marlee ran, her excessive speed propelling her quickly to Elyse, and pushed her out of the way with moments to spare.
The blade of the pike pierced her chest.
The daemons momentum and otherworldly strength pushed the razor-sharp blade clean through her until the tip protruded from her back. She gasped as a red-hot pain seared through her torso as the sting of dark magic flooded into her blood. Fighting against the foreign object which severed it in half her heart struggled to beat. Air evaded her and a black haze flooded across her vision as all ambient sound disappeared.
The cold night clutched her in its chilly embrace, but she welcomed its sweet sting.
Powerless, Elyse watched from where she fell as Drow swung his sword and lopped the head off the daemon. As its body tumbled to the ground, the weight of the pike’s handle pulled Marlee forward. Her hands feebly grasped the handle trying to dislodge it from her chest. But the end jammed into the damp, soggy earth acting as a wedge and holding her at an obscene angle.
“No,” Elyse cried as she scrambled to her feet, rushed to her friend, and pushed her upright.
Blood poured from the wound in her chest and dripped from the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were glazed and when she coughed the blood sprayed.
“I’m sorry,” Elyse whimpered as she grasped the handle and pulled with all her might.
Marlee screamed as the pike’s double-sided blade cut deeper into her flesh as it retreated from her body. Elyse tried to hold her upright, but she staggered and collapsed to the ground. Her blue eyes shone with tears as she gasped for air, the wound bubbling blood with every breath.
Elyse threw the pike aside and sank to the ground beside her, pulling her close. “You’re going to be fine, Marlee, I just need to find a healer.” Tears streamed down her blood-stained face. “Hold on.”
Marlee heaved in her arms gasping for a breath that would never find her lungs.
She could feel Drow’s eyes on her as she rocked back and forth, Marlee’s head cradled in her arms. Her gaze drifted to his sword. The blade was thick with black blood, yet the sheen of the steel still glimmered beneath. The contrast mimicked the dark and light colliding this night.
“I thought we couldn’t die,” she sobbed, her eyes begging Drow for an answer. Tears flowed and the mark on her face cooled. In her sorrow, the magic of the Elves of the Wood faded.
Drow shook his head and his shoulders slumped. “There was no way of knowing how our magic would affect your mortal lives. Whether you would endure an immortal existence or still have a fragile life as is the way of mortals. The effects of dark magic are even more unpredictable.”
He hesitated for a moment, trying to find the correct words to comfort her.
“Even immortals die, Elyse. Sooner or later all life comes to an end.”
As she cradled Marlee in her arms, her chest stopped heaving. Blue eyes stared, unblinking into the night sky. Elyse crumpled over her body as her agonizing wails drifted across the open field.
Guilt and grief engulfed her.
Marlee had given her own life—to save an elf.
Chapter 39
The endless battle continued under the ethereal glow of the prophesied full moon. Smoke from the braziers turned black as blood and flesh filled the metal cauldrons and the moans of the dying echoed through the night air.
Rafe drove the blade of his sword through the rib cage of a daemon.
There were so many.
Withered and decaying bodies surrounded them—an army of death. Their eyes glowed with malice as they lumbered through the battlefield, using weapons infused by ancient magic to kill the ones who once wielded them.
They were outnumbered and hopelessly trapped by the sudden appearance of vast fissures that carved the property into islands.
Over the last hour, fractures had appeared in the dome as one by one the altars failed. The ancient magic weakened as did those fighting inside the protective structure.
It would not be long before the dome collapsed entirely and released the horde of daemons on the unsuspecting town of Brighton Hill. The remaining witches waiting on the outskirts would be overrun and those inside the dome would not add enough strength nor magic to help defeat them, even if they could get to them in time.
They were losing.
The smoke and fire dragons Stevie had conjured circled the area aimlessly, seemingly no longer under her control.
Rafe eyed the bloody battlefield, searching for her. Through the smoke, he spotted her standing with her back to Killenn’s, swords swinging as they fought to stay upright among the horde of daemons surrounding them. Across the fissure to his right was Gabriella. Her wings spread out as her dual blades found the neck of a daemon sending its head sailing into the sky as she sliced it cleanly from its body. Beside her, Gabriel swung his mace knocking three daemons back in a single blow while ramming his sword through the eye of another.
But even the mighty Seraph was waning. As the portal stones went cold, the ancient magic of the ether disappeared taking with it the vitality of their magic.
The fissure behind him hissed as another fire sprang up from its depths. His eyes searched the waterline for Tauria finding her in the upper branches of the towering oak that stood on the banks of the lake. Her arrows flew, each one hitting their mark with precision. But it was futile for she would run out of arrows before she ran out of targets.
His eyes drifted to the base of the tree where Kai attempt to keep the daemons from overwhelming them. She pulled water from the lake and sent waves crashing across the earth, but she too was losing ground as her magic diminished. Soon she would be unable to manipulate the water element to the extreme she was now, and the daemons would swarm the tree.
Rafe scanned the field looking for the others but could not see Elyse, Marlee, Brannon, Drow, or Sebastian. He knew others were still alive for he could hear shouts and the clash of metal somewhere in the smoke-filled distance. If they couldn’t defeat the horde, eventually they would all perish and there would be no one left to halt the ascent of the ancient dark.
The prophecy that would come to pass would not be the one foretold and the Second Coming would ensure mankind’s downfall.
He attempted to lift his sword as another daemon approached, but he was too late. The forceful impact sent him sprawling. His back hit the edge of the breach and his shoulders and head hung precariously over the fiery fissure.
Instantly, the daemon was on him.
Broken and chipped fangs gnashed at his face, but he managed to hold it off with his sword. His muscles ached as he struggled with the daemon. Throwing its decaying body aside he scrambled to his feet just as the daemon jumped again, but this time he was not distracted. It landed on the tip of his sword and the sharp blade slid through its decaying body without resistance. As he kicked the screeching daemon off the edge and into the raging inferno consuming the fissure, a deafening roar exploded from the mill.
The ground shook as the building broke apart. Bricks and mortar crumbled as the structure collapsed, sucked into the yawning cavern opening under its foundation.
The portal to hell had opened and the ancient dark was ascending.
From the depths of the fiery canyon, an earthshattering roar echoed upward.
Some daemons retreated toward the crumbled ruins of the mill heeding the call of their master.
Rafe felt a twinge, something he hadn’t felt since Dane disappeared. It pulled his attention away from the odd behavior of the daemons and toward the other side of the fissure.
The smoke thinned, and she appeared standing across from him with Lucien Beck. The incubus returned Rafe’s gaze and smiled, pulling Dane into his arms in victory. Rafe called out to her but the fierce roar of the ancient dark as it rose from the fragmented ruins swallowed his pleas.
Lucien’s eyes were full of glee at Rafe being confined to the other side of the gaping chasm. It will not be long now, warrior. Dane will forget you, and she will be forever mine.
His eyes left the warrior as he surveyed the surrounding devastation.
Daemons climbed from the chasm, clawing their way to the surface and away from the raging fires. Bodies lay strewn across the battlefield. Swords clashed in the distance and arrows flew through the smoke-filled air.
Lucien breathed in.
This world is forsaken and those that don’t rise with the new one will be cast aside or enslaved for eternity. He glanced around at those who continued to fight valiantly. The ones whose blood surged with ancient magic—her friends.
When the beast rose, they would be the first to die.
Lucien pulled Dane to him, his arms encircling her waist. “You chose the right side,” he said, kissing the top of her head and pulling her in tight.
As their skin touched, he stiffened. Something wasn’t right.
He took a step back as she lifted her face.
The full moon cast its beams across her skin and lit her eyes with its glimmer. Her irises were no longer a dark black instead, a gleaming light jade stared back at him.
Her lips curved at the sides as a look of confusion darkened his features. For a moment he seemed in disbelief unable to grasp the fact she was no longer under his control.
“Dane?”
Breaking his embrace her hand gripped the athame and her eyes lit up with a quiet fury. “Yes,” she whispered. “I did pick the right side but unfortunately you did not.”
Before he could react, she swung the knife upward and plunged it through his chest piercing the center of his heart. His handsome face contorted as he staggered backward. Desperate hands reached for the knife, but as instructed Dane had pushed the blade in up to the hilt, and he couldn’t pull the athame out—the Druid’s bone had fused to his chest.
White light flooded from the blade and seeped into the wound. His face registered uncertainty, disbelief, betrayal, anger, and then fear as his mind realized what was happening.
He dropped to his knees as bright crimson stains appeared on his shirt and blood dripped from his lips. Frantically, he clawed at the hilt trying to dislodge it from his chest as the white light snaked its way through his body. Sweat covered his pale skin, and he howled in pain and rage as the dragonscale blade infused his blood with ancient Druid magic.
Frightened eyes locked on Dane’s.
Why? He mouthed as his body began to shake violently. White light exploded from within as the ancient clock unwound, and the dark magic was cleansed from his body.
Dane raised her hand blocking her eyes from the searing light as it swirled upward and disappeared into the night. She lowered her arm just as Lucien crumpled to the ground, blue eyes drenched in panic. He looked so vulnerable as he lay dying surrounded by the chaos of his making.
Kneeling beside him she lifted his head into her lap and stroked his forehead. His breath became raspy and shallow and his skin, a sickly pallor, was cold and clammy to her touch. The blood pact had been broken and the darkness that enthralled him was gone.
“I’m sorry,” he gasped, taking her hand in his. “I really did love you.”
His eyes drifted to the sky and he coughed. Blood bubbled from his throat covering his lips and chin. She held him until his body went limp and his heartbeat slowed.
As the last of his life essence dwindled from his eyes a tear fell from hers.
She sat for a moment staring into his lifeless face as the battle raged around her. The stench of burning flesh seared her nostrils, but she didn’t move. Incoherent yells drifted on the wind and the sound of metal clashing with metal echoed closer, but she stayed with Lucien. Minutes ticked by before
she closed his eyes and lifted his head from her lap laying it tenderly on the blood-soaked earth.
A thunderous growl erupted from the rubble that was once the old flour mill and Adaridge’s words surfaced in her mind, “killing the incubus and ending the pact will weaken the ancient dark.”
Dane stood and pulled the athame effortlessly from Lucien’s chest. The blood on the blade had turned black. It was thick and congealed, and she wiped it on the sleeve of her cloak.
Her heart clenched as Lucien’s beautiful face drew her attention once more. He looked so peaceful under the light of the full moon, and she felt a surge of empathy for the man he used to be, not the one he’d become.
Unclasping her cloak, she laid it over his body.
“Goodbye, Lucien.”
Chapter 40
A tremor rippled through the ground under her feet as another deafening roar erupted from the cavernous hole. She steadied herself until the quake subsided.
The ancient dark must be near the surface.
Fires burned on the other side of the breach sending thick, sooty smoke curling upward. She couldn’t see far in any direction and feared for her friends.
Were any of them still alive?
The pods had obviously borne the daemons Lilith had unwittingly created, and they swarmed everywhere.
She scrutinized her surroundings. Deep and cavernous fissures cut her off in every direction leaving her with only one option and one way to go—back toward the mill.
Without warning a searing pain rifled through her arm, and she dropped to her knees. Her forearm was on fire. Tears streamed down her face but through the blur, she could make out a fresh scorch mark on the inside of her wrist. The skin was bright pink and raw, but she recognized the shape of the symbol. It was one she’d become all too familiar with.