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Stars winked out, unable to compete with the power of the Angel’s display.
Time slowed to a crawl as flashes of my mother, my father, and my sweet, sweet sister twisted my clamoring heart. Then Olrus and Izgath surged from the depths. The priestesses I’d barely gotten to know. All the people I loved who had died. Who I would meet in another world should we fail tonight.
Terror seized every muscle in my body. But I refused to fucking yield. Not now, not ever, to them. I’d show my people who and what we fought for.
“Prepare yourselves!” Rokath boomed, the depth of his voice reverberating along the stone. From his back, he drew his sword. The garnets embedded in the eyes of the skull on the pommel glinted in the light.
I yanked my own blades free, knees bending slightly as I prepared to face our enemy. Shouts threaded through the tension for the archers to prepare their first volley.
Almost instinctively, I sent a prayer to the three deities who had put me on the path that led to this moment—where my destiny would be realized, where all our fates had converged across Keleti.
Weaver, Giver, Reaper, hear me. Grant Rokath and I life after this. One more breath together. One more kiss. I will bleed the world dry for you. Feed your earth every drop of my blood if I must. So long as in the end, I have him.
A collective roar rose from the Demons, raising the hairs on the back of my neck with its ferocity.
And then, arrows flew.