Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37456 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 150(@250wpm)___ 125(@300wpm)
"This isn't working!" Tori cries, hurtling another blast of Light into a group of wolves.
She's right. It isn't working. Rissa said we're stronger together, but we're still working as individuals. We need to work as one. One weapon, not four.
"Feed your Light into me," I say, not entirely sure what I'm doing. But I let instinct guide me, trusting it in a way I never have as I reach for every ounce of Light I can find, pulling it into me.
My sisters respond instantly, our connection flaring to blinding life as they pour their power into me. Rissa's fierce determination, Tori's unwavering loyalty, Abigail's potent visions—they all flood into me in a dizzying tide, merging with my own Light until I can barely tell where I end, and they begin.
The nimbus around us pulses and grows, expanding outward. It bathes the battlefield in stark white brilliance. The Forsaken shrink back from us, the wolves howling as they turn to flee.
Our combined Light crashes through my veins in a raging torrent, threatening to consume me. But I embrace it, surrendering myself until my skin hums and crackles with barely contained power.
We are no longer four women. We're an army…a weapon. And for once, it's not us who's afraid. It's the Forsaken.
As we march forward, they break ranks and flee, scurrying like ants to get away. Those who aren't fast enough die where they stand, burning as soon as the fiery nimbus surrounding us touches them.
They don't scream. They don't ignite. They simply die.
When the Fae come into sight, I nearly sob in relief. And then in terror. Malachi is on his knees, a Forsaken looming over him, dark magic flowing from his hands.
One of the other Fae lobs the monster's head off with his blazing sword, only to fall beside him when a wolf plows into him from behind.
They're falling. Failing.
No. They won't fall. We won't allow it.
"Look out!" Rissa shouts to the Fae as I reach for more Light, drawing it into us. The inferno around us blazes brighter, expanding outward.
The Forsaken surrounding the Fae fall back, cowering. Fleeing.
"Hurry," Rissa says. "I don't know how long we can hold it."
One of the Fae grabs Malachi, hauling him to his feet. The Fae beside him leaps to his. They rush toward us, their swords still spinning even as our Light engulfs them. Unlike our enemies, it doesn't burn them. It welcomes them, Light greeting Light.
"Marion," Malachi breathes.
I bite my tongue, fighting back a sob.
The Forsaken send dark magic spinning toward us, but it melts against the blazing inferno, unable to penetrate as we turn, marching back toward the gates of Eitr.
My legs shake beneath me, the Light wavering. It's too much power.
"Hold it," Rissa whispers to me. "Just a little longer, Marion."
I grit my teeth, nodding. I can do this. For Malachi, for the Fae, for my sisters, I will do this.
"I've got you, ljúfr. I'm here," Malachi murmurs. "Lean on me."
"No," I gasp, afraid of what might happen if I lose control of it. "Don't touch me."
He ignores me, wrapping an arm around my waist. The Light sears into him, his body going rigid. I know it hurts to have that much raw power humming against his bare skin. I feel his pain. But he doesn't make a sound. He simply anchors me to him, supporting my weight as we march toward the gates.
Within minutes, we're safely through, and they're slamming behind us.
As soon as they close behind us, I lose control of the Light. It flows out of me all at once, leaving me swaying dangerously on my feet.
"Easy, ljúfr," Malachi croons, scooping me up into his arms. "Easy."
"T-thought you were going to die before…" I rest my head on his shoulder, so exhausted I can hardly think.
"Before what?" He skims his nose down the side of my face, breathing me in.
"Before I said I'm sorry."
"Nei," he breathes, pressing his forehead to mine. "Nei, Marion. You don't apologize to me."
"But I—"
His fingertip is gentle against my lips, the beads in his braids clicking as he dips his head to meet my gaze. "Were grieving, little one. I knew I was pushing when I asked. I knew how you might react, but I did it anyway because I needed you to feel it." He exhales a mournful breath. "You needed to let yourself feel it."
"Why?" I ask, my head lolling on his shoulder.
"Because I need you to survive," he whispers fiercely, the same ferocious desire reflected in his eyes. "And the only way you survive is if you fight. I need you to fight like hell, ljúfr. It's the only way out of this for any of you."
I shiver in his arms, but he's right. Regardless of what the past holds or the future brings…we have to fight. There is no other choice. War is here whether we're ready for it or not.