59. BLOOD OF MY BLOOD #2
My hands shook, digging into the dirt as I pushed back against his essence in my head.
“On the contrary,” I ground out. I lifted my palm and released a burst of light.
It collided with his chest, the sound like a clap of thunder.
Lyceius rocked backwards, his churning eyes narrowing on me, nostrils flaring.
The claws in my mind retracted, but they stood poised on the threshold, awaiting his command.
As he opened his mouth to speak, the air shook around us.
I looked up as gray, feathered wings split the wind, and then, Remic’s boots slammed to the ground behind me.
His wings arced over where I kneeled in the dirt, and he drew his longsword from where it was strapped between his shoulder blades.
The sound of it being unsheathed echoed over the plains, a deadly hiss as menacing as the expression on his face.
“You made a mistake summoning her here,” he said, his voice darker than I’d ever heard.
Lyceius smirked, then chuckled to himself.
“I’ve always been fascinated by your kind.
Should we test how indestructible you are?
” He lifted a hand, and a silver sword formed in his grasp from its pommel to the tip of the blade.
He twirled it in his palm, as if the thought of a sword fight was an added bit of amusement.
The god didn’t need a sword to fight his battles. He was toying with Remic.
But Remic didn’t flinch. Didn’t seem to care that Lyceius could wipe him from the earth with a flick of his wrist, if he wished. He tightened his grip, the leather-wrapped pommel creaking against his palm. The markings on his face pulsed to life, red as a blood moon.
It was then that I realized a Dionach’s rage was damn near equivalent to the fury of a god. And my power rallied in my veins, ready to defend Remic in return.
Lyceius remained lethally calm as he pointed the sword directly at me. “She either leaves with me now, or I will come for her with legions upon legions of my own.”
“You can try,” a voice said from behind him.
Lyceius spun and was met with a golden sword at his throat.
Silas stood an arm’s length from him, having snuck up behind the fallen god like a thief in the night.
His white wings, bathed in pure moonlight, were deathly still behind him, ready to maneuver him in any direction at a moment’s notice.
And . . . that reckless, reckless, bastard had the nerve to smile as he stared Lyceius down.
“Two of you? For her?” Lyceius scoffed.
“There’s actually five of us. But to take you on, we figured two could get the job done.”
Lyceius bristled at the disrespect. “Arrogant fool. Despite what you may believe, I’m not a fan of messy situations. I’ve given her an option to put an end to this before it begins.”
Silas’s blade glinted as he pressed it against the fallen god’s neck. How he thought he’d take on a god, I had no idea, but my heart hammered in my chest as I watched him step closer, unrelenting in his threat.
Lyceius smirked. “Let me remind you that I do not have to ask. I will take what is mine. If it’s by force, then so be it.” He waved his free hand, sending a wave of inky darkness rushing toward Silas, but the Dionach twisted his weapon just in time and split through it.
At the same time, the claws lashed out within my mind, jabbing into the stone, hauling entities made of Lyceius’s foul, corrupt essence up the wall.
A guttural groan tore from my throat, bursting from my lips as I tried to withstand the attack.
All I could see was the chaos in my mind’s eye as the entities scaled the wall, desperate to lay claim to what was protected behind it.
I scrambled to rally more of my power, dipping into the well within me and drawing it up, up, up to the surface.
Then, I unleashed it.
Light flashed as my power bled into the cracks of my mental shield, mending them before spilling over the wall and snuffing out every rotten remnant of Lyceius’s soul.
My mind cleared, and I let my power fill my veins, illuminating my skin as I met Remic’s stare.
But before I could manage to say a word, his eyes lifted to something behind me.
He tugged me to him, thrusting his sword out.
The metal hissed and wailed like a newly-forged blade quenched in water as a torrent of Lyceius’s dark power shot toward us.
It battered against the sword in waves. Remic’s entire arm shook, his knuckles turning white under his grip.
The sound grew louder, a violent warning that the blade might eventually snap under the force of the onslaught. Remic’s lips peeled back, and a sound reverberated from deep within his chest as he used all his might to hold the line between life and death.
Somewhere beyond, Silas was probably enduring the same.
Panic set in, and I knew I only had seconds to act. Without his talisman, Lyceius only had access to a fraction of his power, but I was certain it was still more than enough to kill all of us several times over.
Then, something Remic had said gave me pause. You made a mistake summoning her here.
Lyceius had summoned me. He’d shown me a place I’d been before in another dream—another nightmare. But why have me come to him, when he could just . . .
That was the thing. He couldn’t.
Bound to the lands he’d turned to ruin, Breck had once said. Which meant, the only way he could physically get to me, was when I stepped foot in Salterra.
“Lyceius!” I yelled.
The attack halted, and Remic’s arm went limp, his strength spent. His chest was heaving. His heart pounded against my body. But he did not release me from his protective grip. He held on.
The fallen god’s eyes met mine, and his smug expression faltered.
My light was radiating from within, glowing in my veins.
It was the power he once had, the gift he had given up when he turned it on itself and let it rot inside of him—the very same thing he would probably try to convince me to do if I went with him.
His essence crashed once more against my mind, but my light was too prominent now.
I’d dug just deep enough and gathered a wealth of it to have at my disposal.
He didn’t know how vast my well was, but it was clear that he’d wildly underestimated it from the start.
And now, seeing it burning through me, he appeared to be on the verge of panic.
“Don’t be a fool. You belong here, with me. That power was made to submit to a god.”
“It will,” I said. “It will submit to me.” The implication enraged him, and I watched his eyes flare with fury as I added, “I’ll see you on the battlefield.”