Chapter 108 Lex
Chapter One Hundred Eight
Lex
“Ilyas!” I cried, voice cracking with fear and pain as I watched my Bonded take yet another shallow stab. He grunted, eyes flaring wide with pain, as the sword pushed in deeper.
Ilyas gasped as his attacker pulled their weapon free, and I leapt in front of him, using whatever energy I had left to sluggishly parry the strike that would have killed my Bonded.
Pain sliced through my arm, sharp and hot, as the assailant landed a strike on me as well.
With a cry, I feinted to the right before lunging to the left.
By some miracle, the soldier bought my first move, leaving his right flank completely open.
Without thought or compunction, I rammed my sword as hard and deep as I could into his side, puncturing his lung and killing him instantly once my weapon pierced through his sternum and into his heart on the opposite side.
He fell off my sword with a wet thud, nearly taking me down with him.
I left my sword in his body as I walked back to Ilyas, hunched over with hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
“We can’t do this for much longer,” Ilyas said, voice strained with pain.
I said nothing, just numbly lifted his sopping shirt to inspect the newest wound.
His torso was littered with them, and at this point, his tunic was doing nothing but getting in his way.
I pulled it off his head before I balled it up and pressed against the gaping slash.
Ilyas nodded his thanks, color slowly draining from his cheeks.
“What are we going to do, Lex?” he whispered, sitting heavily on the wet ground.
I collapsed next to him, breathing hard and pushing my sweat and blood-soaked hair off my forehead.
All around us, the battle raged—the scents of ash and fire, death and blood so heavy in the air I doubted I’d ever forget them.
It was clear we were losing. All of our soldiers, even the ones we brought fresh from Vespera, were tired and wounded. Our strikes were slower, our magical attacks less frequent, as Mages bled Vessels dry or used their crystals completely.
It became increasingly clear that this was no longer a battlefield—it was a graveyard.
Our tomb.
“We fight until we can’t any longer. Until Fate pulls us into the ether,” I said, even though I didn’t quite believe my words. Ilyas nodded mutely, a soul-deep sadness cresting his face.
“I wish—” But his words were cut off as our enemies’ shout rose in fervor. Almost as one, they abandoned their fights, turning northward as their commanders shouted in earnest for them to form up ranks.
I watched as our troops, battered and bruised, stepped away with gasping breaths, searching for a reprieve.
“What is happening?” Ilyas asked, hope blooming in his words. I shielded my eyes from the scorching sun, squinting as a line of figures stood toward the north, covered in shadow. Slowly, their features came into focus, and I gasped in recognition.
There, at the point, stood Ellowyn, murderous rage covered her face as Pain and Pleasure crackled up her arms in waves. She raised her right hand, emanating a powerful wave of consolation and bolstered resolve that was far more potent than even my magic.
Our soldiers straightened, brightness returning to their features as Ellowyn’s magic wormed its way into their skin and psyches.
Hope bloomed and blossomed within me, partly from the godling’s magic and partly from the male and female that flanked Ellowyn.
On her right stood Talamh, face carved from stone as he held Earth Magic in his palms.
On the other stood a woman with beautiful dark brown skin, pants covered in grime and dust billowing in the wind as she clutched a long spear in two hands.
Folami was here.
A smile split my face as I helped Ilyas to his feet, intent on making my way to my True Pain Bond.
My steps faltered and stilled at the sound of a horn to the south.
It was melodic and low, a whisper on the wind that grew in intensity the longer it blared.
My gut sank to my toes, bile rising in my throat as Ilyas and I turned to each other, agony written in both our expressions. We knew those horns—the same melody chased us out of Vespera and would haunt my dreams for years to come.
Samyr was here.
Vespera had fallen.
I turned to look over my shoulder, eyes closing in defeat as I recognized the bloodied and crazed woman spearheading the charge from the south. Our reinforcements responded with a battle cry of their own, and the ground shook as the two forces converged.
Sasori led the Samyrians, Folami the Deucenans, and Ilyas and I were caught in the middle.