29. Myron
Myron
Five tired Flames are no match for me on a good day, but five times that many?
I’m panting, my magic sluggish as I send one silver whip after the other to lash the Flames’ fire out. At least, Ayna is out of the building, safe with Herinor—or as safe as she’ll ever be with him. He might not lend her a hand to protect his own life, but he’s doing about anything he can to make sure he aids me in my attempts at protecting her.
How I wish I could trust him to do whatever is necessary to keep her alive. He won’t lay down his life without a second thought the way I’d do for my queen because, deep down, his heart is no longer his own.
I shove all thoughts aside, focusing on the reassuring sensation of Ayna’s presence through our bond while I slice into one godsdamned Fire Fairy after the other. They are surprisingly fast and agile for how clumsily they’re setting their feet. A few months ago I would have been terrified of even one Flame, but my full Crow strength and power has its advantages—and I don’t only mean those in the bedroom. I’m faster than the Flames, more accurate with my aim. Also, I’m flammable, which makes me an excellent target for the Flames’ magic.
Fireball after fireball rushes at me. The moment I bat one away with my sword or my magic, the next one is coming at me. It was way too easy to coordinate my efforts with only five Flames to fight—four after the initial minute when I ripped one Flame’s throat out with a well-placed strike of my sword—but with the reinforcements joining them, I’m at my limit. One by one, they draw nearer, the entrance hall shrinking with dizzying speed. Not long and they’ll have cornered me.
At least I was able to buy Ayna some time. Shaelak knows I owe her my life, my sanity, and then some. Perhaps this is my way of paying her back.
Wherever those reinforcements came from, they wouldn’t have simply come for me had they spotted Ayna and Herinor outside. They did come in through the main door after all.
If I only knew where the others are. They should long have found us and backed us up.
The male closest to me sneers at me before sending a fireball at my chest. I duck, letting the heat bounce off as tiny a shield as I can master to save my strength. It won’t matter how many Flames I’ve fought if some escape to go after my mate.
Hurling a stream of silver light at him, I sever the male’s neck, watching his grin slip as his head slides off his shoulders.
“Not so funny now,” I murmur, attention already on the next one.
They are shooting at me, drawing their circle ever tighter, but they aren’t going for the kill the way I am. Something feels very off about that.
I can’t detonate the entire building without burying myself alive, so I refrain from extreme measures—for now. If I manage to get to the door, I can lead the Flames into the forest where I can seek cover behind tree trunks. Even if they’ll burn, I’d rather have a place to shelter me from their fire when they decide to hit full force. Herinor and the others can also join the fight more easily if they can sneak up on the enemy rather than having to step into a room devoid of hideouts.
I remember playing hide and seek with Royad at the palace in the Seeing Forest. My father never liked the game, said it was for cowards and Crows never hid from anything. Not even in a game.
My opinion differs from his, though. Battles are all about tactics, and places to hide mean time to think, to take a breath, and quickly heal a wound. It means the difference between life and death in a fight twenty-three against one.
That thought in mind, I lash out to the side with my power, leaving my back unprotected while I let my magic escape my shield. It’s a necessary move to bring down the numbers stacked against me, and I pay for it with a hit in the spine. Pain explodes in my back, taking my breath for a heartbeat, making it difficult to lift my arm to block the next blow. That one is aimed at my neck, and if I fail to greet it with my blade, it will end with me headless and bleeding all over the pretty floor.
Shield up and sword moving, I twist out of reach, slicing into the Flame’s arm, severing it, if I’m precise, but I don’t have the time to notice in detail how the lower half of her sword arm plops to the floor. I’m already on the next opponent. This one seems to be dead set on striking me on my cheek like he is challenging me to a duel.
Honestly, I want to laugh in his face, want to flash my teeth the way I used to when stabbing my way through a battle, but something feels off in my shoulder.
It starts with an intense tingle, the sort I’m used to when Ayna experiences heightened emotions. That’s not where it ends, though. My vision blurs as a trail of fire runs through the outline of the bird tattoo on my skin, searing pain stealing my breath, my thoughts, the last of the strength that I thought I had.
Knees buckling, I collapse to the blood-smeared floor right next to the stump of one of the Flames’ necks I’ve severed.
“ Myron!” Her scream is a song on the storms that have always tried to force us apart. It’s a melody of anguish, gut-wrenching onslaught of terror. My entire world goes dark as my skin bursts into figurative flames. Not one hint of orange glow fills the entrance hall. Not one single fireball. The Flames have vanished from view in the starless cocoon wrapping around me. Yet, the excruciating pain won’t yield .
“ AYNA! ”
She’s hanging on by a loose thread, and my fingers are slippery with blood, too clumsy to spool her in.
They are trying to rip her away from me. Those fucking bastards are trying to take my mate .
There’s no room for coherent thoughts as I turn into the monster I’ve resented for millennia. Talons grow from my fingertips, feathers from my arms, covering them from shoulder to wrist. My mouth and nose become the beak of a crow, and my eyes turn into pitch-black pits as the feathers take my neck, my hair, my face. The leathers are too tight, too hot, locking in the raw power of the creature breaking through the surface.
With a growl, I tear my leathers open, jacket falling off my chest, my wings springing free. I’m death and darkness. The storm in which Ayna is being tossed like a doll. I’m the anchor, and she’s the boat, and whoever is trying to sever the chain holding us together will. Fucking. Die.
The roar ripping out of me puts the gods to shame.
I won’t—I will not —not in a thousand lifetimes let anyone take her from me.
A flash of fire enters my darkness, and I remember I should be afraid, but the orange sphere is swallowed by night like water in ink. Everything inside of me pulls and twists. Everything is pointing in one direction.
So I follow. It’s an order. A command pulling me straight through the folds of the world, and I obey. I’d obey that call anywhere .
From the edge of my consciousness, I sense words raining down on me, but they don’t cut. Not one single blade slices into my skin as I fight my way across the entrance hall. Like a current of blackest night, my power bleeds across the floor, the walls, taking everything in my path. Flames cry out in panic as I rip their heads off with my power, my talons, my sword… I no longer hold a weapon in my hands. I am the weapon. And I embrace every last monstrous thought as I kill my way out of the estate. The ground shudders as I half walk, half fly out the door, leaving a trail of destruction behind me.
Even in my darkest hours of the curse, I never allowed for that beast to break loose, but today, I embrace it. Today, I become one with it as I spot my mate face-down on the ground. A Flame is kneeling on her back, pinning her like a rabid animal as she thrashes under the torch they are pushing into her flesh, right where our mate mark is inked into her skin.
Blind rage hits me, taking away the last of my humanity, and I fucking lose it. Silver spears fly across the clearing, taking down everyone and everything in my path. At the back of my mind, I remember there are people I care about out there, that I might hurt them if I don’t watch out.
I can’t bring myself to hesitate as my power lashes from my talons, rays of silver wrapped in smoke and death. There is no time to wonder if my magic can tell friends from foes; I will it to do so, and where it hits, Flames fall left and right like flies, like wheat stalks cut down with a razor-sharp blade .
But Ayna is slipping away from me. With every breath, there’s a little less of her wrapped around my soul.
I cling to her for dear life. Because she is my life.
All I hear is her whimpering. Even when there is no Flame left in this godsforsaken clearing, she’s still writhing in pain.
I don’t allow myself to land from where I’m hovering just beneath the treetops and rush to her. Not just yet. There is one more thing I need to do before I take her in my arms and kiss her with all I am, all I have.
“Erina.” My voice is a hiss, but the King of Tavras hears me anyway. Across the battlefield where he’s watching with horror as I let my power ruin all life in the clearing.
Leaves tumble to the ground where I pass, telling the story of my touch with their wilting.
“You will pay for this.”
The fear in Erina’s eyes is real, but when I send a stream of unadulterated power to eviscerate him, it doesn’t tear him apart as it rips through him.
It’s then that I realize he’s a projection. The fucker has found a way to be in two places at the same time—and his body is somewhere safe while he’s smirking at me when I realize the limits of my power.
“Nice show, Myron.” Erina smirks and tips his head as if admitting defeat in this round of what he thinks of as a game.
Then he’s gone.
And I’m left to collect the pieces of the female who’s saved me in all ways that matter. But she can’t save me from this. Not when, where her mate mark was once telling the story of our joined fate, all that stares back at me is scorched, blackened flesh.
I beat my wings, dropping to my boots as all resolve crumbles, and my feathers melt away.
Ayna’s staggering to her feet, defying pain, defying death, even now, when she’s beaten, bleeding, barely keeping upright.
And her voice hits me like an arrow in the chest as she whispers, “I’m sorry.”