Chapter 37
Zephyr
Magic surges through me like wildfire, searing my veins.
It isn’t the usual cool touch of ice, but rather a wild, unrelenting fire.
It fills me with a singular, primal need: protect what’s mine and destroy anything that threatens it.
I haven’t felt this much of my magic in a long time, but something about this battle is giving me an extra dose of energy.
Niko flashes through my mind—still at home, still deteriorating by the minute. I can feel him slipping further away with each passing day, no matter how many times he tries to deny it. I’m doing this for him. To save my mate. To make sure I don’t lose him forever.
But I’m also doing this for her. Evangeline walks beside me, silent but trembling with quiet strength.
I can feel her fear, even while she’s putting on a brave front.
She hasn’t faltered once since we left. And I’ll be damned if I let her face this alone.
I’m proud of her, but I’m also filled with dread at facing what lies before us.
If I could have done this without bringing her into harm's way, I would have.
Finnick hasn’t stopped talking since we left our camp.
Normally, it would bother me, but he’s bringing comfort to Evangeline, so I don’t dare stop him.
It drowns out the sound of Rip’s people stalking through the forest, flanking us.
The dragons have already taken to the sky.
We aren’t subtle in our approach—can’t be with massive winged lizards flying overhead.
The Nephilim will know we’re close and be expecting a fight, and we must be prepared for battle.
As a trained soldier, I’ve never feared battle, always knowing my life was on the line.
But this time, it feels different. This time, there’s so much more at stake, and the thought of anything happening to Evangeline fills me with dread.
Not only because she holds the key to our survival, but because losing her would rip my heart from my chest and leave me with an open wound that could never be healed.
Because the truth is, I’m in love with Evangeline. I can’t deny that any longer. I want a life with her and Niko, my parents be damned. Maybe I’m not like them. Maybe I can make this work, but I have to live long enough to see it through.
The moment the thought forms, the battlefield roars to life in front of us.
Winds whip through the blackened trees as we emerge from the forest’s edge.
I zone in immediately on the cursed well, remembering the faded picture Lady Thalia showed us.
Jagged stone rising like the ribcage of some long-dead god is encircled in roiling fog.
The magic flowing from it is neither good nor bad, just power, but power that can destroy.
Power that is currently in the hands of our enemies.
The sand around it is soaked with what feels like death.
The earth here is wrong. Twisted. Even the dragons flying overhead keep their distance at first, wings slicing through air thick with rot.
And standing between us and salvation is a small army of the Nephilim, but even one Nephilim is dangerous. There’s at least a dozen or more present.
My breath catches. Even knowing what we’d face didn’t prepare me for the sheer horror of them.
They’re towering beasts, each one a unique abomination.
Some stretch fifteen feet tall, their skin black and cracked like scorched earth.
Others have hollow eyes that glow like dying stars.
All of them radiate power. Hunger. Rage.
It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve seen one, these creatures will always unsettle me. They watch us like predators, lips curled back, revealing too many teeth. There’s no time for strategy, because the moment they see us, they charge.
The first clash is a collision of pent-up fury.
One of the wolves lunges at a Nephilim, only to be caught mid-air and slammed into the sand hard enough to crater it.
Bones crunch, followed by a whimper. Rip lets out a feral roar and leaps over the wreckage, claws swiping deep gashes into the beast’s throat.
Blood—thick, black, and steaming—splashes across his chest.
More of his wolves follow, descending upon Nephilim in vicious packs.
It takes five wolves to bring down a single Nephilim.
The fae follow in pursuit, bending the earth to their will.
Sink holes open, catching unsuspecting Nephilim mid-charge.
The wind fae trap Nephilim in a storm of wind, allowing enough time for the wolves to pounce on them.
Above us, the dragons descend. A rush of air and heat blasts behind us as they strike.
One Nephilim is engulfed in flames, but even as it burns, it laughs, shambling forward through the fire like it’s a lover’s embrace.
It doesn’t stop until it’s nothing more than charred remains.
Still, the laugh lingers with me, but I don’t have time to flinch.
No time to hesitate. Hesitation means death, and I have too much on the line.
My magic surges through me, ice trailing from my fingertips in jagged shards.
It’s weak, but it’s there, even if not at full strength.
I leap forward and unleash it, the frozen energy slicing clean through a Nephilim’s kneecap.
It collapses with a bellow, and a few wolves attack, tearing the creature limb from limb.
It’s a bloody, messy scene that paints the sand in red.
The air is pungent with a distinctive metallic smell.
Another one rushes me. I duck low, barely avoiding the swing of a twisted spear. Since when did the Nephilim use weapons? Fucking dickheads.
My knee slams into the sand, and I counter with a wave of frost that locks its feet in place. Finnick flies away from Evangeline, following up from behind, jabbing his sword straight into the creature’s eye socket. It screams in pain as a dragon flies by, spraying fire to finish the job.
We barely have time to acknowledge each other. Finnick meets my gaze before returning to Evangeline. He’s been instructed to stay with her. Finnick is small, but far from weak. He’s clever and cunning, which will serve both of them well during this battle.
“Protect the girl!” Rip roars, tearing through another creature with the weight of his massive body. His people heed his order, caging her in by making a wall around her.
I twist, heart stuttering, when I spot Evangeline moving through the battlefield like a woman on a mission.
She’s not a trained warrior, but you wouldn’t know that by looking at her now.
Her body trembles, but she keeps her head held high, not backing down.
In her hands, she still holds the vial of tonic, pressed tight to her chest. Blood pools at her feet from the fallen, staining the bottom of her pants.
She’s flanked by a few wolves, one already limping, but her focus is unwavering. Her eyes are locked on the well.
She’s so close, just a little closer now, and she’ll be able to throw the tonic into the well.
The cursed mist tries to reach for her. I can see it.
The tendrils of magic from the well writhe like snakes, hungry for a soul to devour.
I send a surge of frost into the mist’s path, freezing it mid-lash.
Lady Thalia didn’t warn us that the well would be just as ravenous as the Nephilim.
Fucking perfect, another enemy to fight.
I knew this wasn’t going to be easy, and yet I still underestimated the difficulties we’d face.
“Keep going!” I shout, voice raw, hoping she can hear me above the commotion.
We’re gaining ground, pushing the Nephilim back one brutal foot at a time.
The progress is slow, but it’s progress nonetheless.
The dragons fly low, spewing fire and wind.
My body heats as sweat beads on my forehead.
Wolves leap from creature to creature, tearing flesh from bone.
Finnick takes a hit to the side and rolls with it, dragging a dagger across a Nephilim’s throat on his way down.
It does little more than irritate the creature.
But the creatures just keep coming, and it feels like there’s no end in sight. They don’t feel pain like we do—that much is evident—and they will fight until their very last breath.
We’re barely holding on.
The smell of burning magic clogs my lungs.
It’s so thick, nearly suffocating me. I can taste the edge of the Veil here.
This place sits on the boundary between life and death, and it’s trying to drag us all into the latter.
The well’s magic hums, calling out to anyone who will listen.
The power is unimaginable, and seems to answer to no one, though the Nephilim have been able to use some of its power.
Another Nephilim crashes into our ranks, bowling over two wolves with a sickening crunch.
I aim and channel everything I have into my ice.
Frost climbs its limbs, spreading like wildfire in reverse.
The beast thrashes, howling, but it’s too late.
I freeze it solid. The fae near me help me kick the block of ice to shatter it.
But the toll is growing. My breath comes in ragged gasps.
My magic strains, flickering at the edges.
I’m losing momentum, and I didn’t have enough in reserve at the start of this.
All the fae are fading fast since we’ve eaten virtually nothing.
The wolves and dragons have more steam, but even they are growing sluggish in their movements and attacks.
It takes everything in us to hold our own against these creatures.
I’ve been in battles before, but never one like this.
One that can cost me and the fae everything.
And then I catch sight of her again.
Evangeline breaks into a run, darting past a fallen dragon’s wing, her boots slipping in blood-soaked sand.
She’s almost there—so close to the well, I can feel its magic buzzing against my skin.
She raises the vial, prepared to pour the tonic into the well.
I don’t see Finnick, but I know he has to be nearby.
Then, right before Evangeline can pour the tonic into the well, a Nephilim bursts from the mist behind her.
“NO!”
I run, but I’m too far away. I scream for anyone to hear, but the rage of war silences me. I’m helpless to do anything other than watch this play out like a horrifying nightmare.
The creature swipes with a clawed hand, catching two wolves and her shoulder, spinning her around. She falls hard, the vial tumbling from her grasp. I watch it arc through the air in slow motion, glass catching the firelight like a star.
And then it drops, shattering into a hundred tiny pieces. The tonic that took five days to brew is gone in mere seconds.
The world goes silent, and I lose the ability to stand, falling to my knees in the sand. The vial’s glowing contents hiss as they mix with sand and magic. Useless. Broken. That was our one chance to buy more time for Niko, to buy more time for our entire kingdom, and it’s gone.
I can’t breathe, but in the midst of our world shattering, I catch Evangeline’s eye. For the first time in my life, I know true and complete terror.
She looks at me from across the battlefield.
Her lip is bleeding, and one arm hangs limp at her side from being thrown back.
But her eyes are steady. Fierce. Wet with tears she refuses to wipe away.
She looks and moves like a queen. This fragile human transforms into an ethereal goddess in front of my eyes.
She straightens, newfound determination strengthening her. And at that moment, I know what she has planned. What she might have had planned this entire time because Evangeline wants to save us. Even at the cost of her own life.
My blood runs cold, and it has nothing to do with the ice in my veins. I shake my head violently, my mouth already forming the word don’t. I want to scream it, but I’m frozen in place, rendered speechless.
She takes a step back toward the well. The Nephilim hesitate around her, as if sensing what’s coming and planning their next moves. She presses a hand to her heart, trembling, yet the picture of strength. Then she mouths the words I’ll never forget.
“Tell Niko I love him.”
No. No no no—
“And Zephyr?”
Her voice breaks across the distance. I force myself up, flailing in the sand.
My body doesn’t want to cooperate, but I manage to stand and force my legs to push me forward as fast as they’ll take me.
I run hard, faster than I’ve ever run in my life.
But it’s not fast enough. She seems farther and farther away from me, out of grasp.
“I wanted more time for us, too.”
I scream. Scream for her. To stop. To wait. The distance between us seems to grow, no matter how fast I run. Fuck, why did I venture so far away from her?
I blast through the creatures in my path, ice exploding from my hands, freezing the surrounding air, shattering bones, cleaving through darkness like a storm of rage and grief.
But it’s not enough. The battlefield stretches like a cruel illusion, a chasm I can’t cross in time.
My vision blurs, or maybe I just don’t want to see what I know is about to happen.
Evangeline mouths the words, “I love you both,” and then she turns with tears rolling down her dirty cheeks but a fierce determination in her eyes. She climbs onto the edge of the well with ease. Our eyes meet one final time.
I scream, or I think I do, but it does nothing. Nephilim roar in fury and race to catch her before she ends this. The one closest to her is attempting to fight through wolves to reach her. But they are too late. We all are.
Because in the next moment, she jumps.