Chapter 28 #2
“Atlas,” I whispered, his name torn from me without thought, without sound enough to carry through the chaos. It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t hear me anyway. Still, saying it anchored me, reminded me why I was here. Why I kept moving when my legs shook, and my lungs screamed in protest.
For a fleeting, treacherous moment, my mind conjured an image of what this place could be without the war.
Of standing on those pale steps leading to the grand entrance.
Standing beside him with the weight of a crown settling where fear lived now.
The thought was absurd, dangerous, and entirely irresistible.
Even still, hope flared recklessly in the middle of devastation.
I crushed it down just as quickly.
Survival came first. Reaching him came second.
Dreams could wait.
Aster slowed suddenly, his gaze sweeping the battlefield ahead, nostrils flaring as he scented the air. His shoulders rolled, muscles tensing as his transformation deepened, the Minotaur’s strength asserting itself more fully with every step.
“He’ll be near the front,” he said, confirming my earlier thoughts with a low voice. “He always is.”
The knowledge both steadied and terrified me.
Because what I knew of Atlas, then he would have never been one to hold power from a distance.
He would have met it head-on, only because he chose to, not because he could not do otherwise.
The idea of him out there somewhere, fighting alone or surrounded, sent a cold blade of fear sliding between my ribs.
We pressed on, weaving through skirmishes and fallen banners. Past soldiers who barely spared us a glance as they fought for every inch of ground. Every second stretched taut, fragile as glass, and with each step closer to the castle, the certainty grew heavier in my chest.
Whatever waited ahead of us, whatever we were about to find, there would be no turning back. I squared my shoulders and followed Aster into the thickening dark, my focus narrowing to a single, burning point.
A sound cut through the clash of steel and screaming voices, enough to rip my attention away from the chaos.
I knew that sound.
My heart lurched painfully as I turned toward it, breath catching hard in my throat. Another cry followed, strained and pained, and then I saw him forcing his way through the smoke.
A massive black stallion stumbled into view, his coat streaked dark with blood, one powerful leg favoring the ground beneath him. Burn marks scarred his flank, and a deep gash split the muscle of his haunch. Each step a visible effort. Yet even injured, there was no mistaking him.
“Acelin!” I called out.
“Acelin?” Aster questioned, looking for him in the chaos.
The disbelief and relief crashed together so hard that my knees went weak.
The stallion’s dark eyes found me instantly.
His ears flicked forward, his pace faltering as he reached me, and he lowered his great head to press his muzzle against my shoulder.
I lifted my hands, my fingers burying themselves into his sweat-damp mane as I leaned into him, my forehead resting briefly against his neck.
“Hey,” I whispered, voice shaking. “You’re all right. I’ve got you.”
I could feel the tremor running through him, the heat of his blood beneath my palms, the sharp metallic scent that twisted my stomach. He was severely hurt, but still standing, still searching.
Aster’s hand closed over mine.
“He’ll heal, and quickly at that, don’t worry,” he said without hesitation. “He’s not mortal.”
I nodded, comforted at this and not at all surprised.
My gaze lifted instinctively, scanning the battlefield beyond Acelin’s impressive frame, now searching for his owner.
Smoke, fire, bodies, soldiers, both human-shaped and mythic, moving through the carnage, some radiant with light, others warped and wrong beneath crawling shadow.
Harpies streaked overhead, wings beating hard, and the difference was unmistakable.
Those untouched by the darkness were fierce and terrible, beautiful in their own right.
Those taken were sagging, twisted, their forms distorted by something that did not belong to them.
Yet Atlas was nowhere.
“He wouldn’t leave him,” I said. “Not like this.” Unless he had been thrown. Unless he had been surrounded. Unless he had made a choice I wasn’t ready to name.
Acelin nudged me insistently, pushing his shoulder against my chest until the stirrup pressed hard enough to knock the breath from me.
“He’s telling you to ride,” Aster said. “You won’t reach Atlas on foot.”
Guilt twisted in my chest as I looked down at the stallion again.
“But he’s hurt.”
“He’ll carry you,” Aster replied. “And if Atlas sent him away, then it was so you could get through.”
The thought landed like a blow. There was no more time to argue this. So, I took hold of the reins and hauled myself up, the saddle feeling wrong beneath me, no longer familiar without Atlas behind me. I forced myself not to think about it as I settled awkwardly into position.
Aster stepped back, his form already larger, darker, the Minotaur fully present now, tar-like blood streaking his sword and chest from his fallen victims.
“Ride like the King’s life depends on it,” he said.
“But what about you?” I asked, not trusting my survival without him.
“Don’t worry, little mortal, I will keep up,” he said, winking at me before he smacked Acelin’s rump, causing him to surge forward, making me shriek. The battlefield blurred into chaos after that, and we tore through smoke and fire, the thunder of his hooves drowning out everything else.
The wind was tearing at my hair and stealing my breath as we hurtled forward, smoke and ash stinging my eyes. I was shocked to find that he was running faster and faster, making me look down at his body. Aster was right; he was healing more and more with every heartbeat.
Then, as we neared the castle, the press of bodies thickened, forcing Acelin to slow, his injured leg now a thing of the past. Darkness pooled thicker here, finger-like tendrils reaching out, brushing against us with a sickening awareness that made my skin crawl.
“Easy now, you’ve got this,” I whispered, leaning low over Acelin’s neck, my hands tight on the reins.
But then a dying scream split the air, and my entire body jerked, terror surging hot and sharp through my veins.
The darkness closed in, swallowing sight and sound alike until panic clawed at my throat.
“Aster,” I cried, my voice swallowed by the fog. “Aster!”
“I’m here,” he shouted back, suddenly close again. “But more are coming. We need to move!”
“I can’t see,” I said, heart racing as the darkness pressed tighter. “I can’t get through this.”
His gaze flicked to my side, to the dagger strapped there, understanding flashing instantly.
“The blade!” he bellowed over the noise. “Hold it. The darkness recoiled from Bronte’s lightning before. It should give you room!”
I didn’t hesitate. I reached for the dagger, and the moment my fingers closed around the hilt, the lightning flared to life.
Light spilled outward, bright and sharp, forcing the darkness back in a hissing retreat.
Symbols along the blade ignited one by one, their glow steady and fierce as hope surged painfully in my chest.
The fog recoiled, revealing a sight that stole my breath.
A ring of Atlas’s soldiers had formed around us, shields raised, blades moving in perfect harmony as they fought to keep the path clear. They were bleeding… Exhausted…Yet still standing.
Emotion clogged my throat as I looked at Aster.
“Now ride, Alex! Ride to the castle!” he roared, his voice rolling across the battlefield like thunder.
“All of you, protect the girl, get her to the castle!” Aster commanded, each one recognizing his authority. Which meant the soldiers roared back,
“TO THE CASTLE!” The sound rose as one as the circle surged forward, inch by hard-fought inch.
We moved with surprising speed, with Aster remaining close as he fought, cutting down anything that slipped through. But despite our efforts, I could see the strain in his movements now, the cost of holding the line growing heavier with every breath.
Then the ground trembled.
A roar tore through the air, so vast and violent it froze the battlefield mid-strike, every weapon pausing, every head turning as dread swept through us like a wave.
Aster swore, his grip tightening on his sword.
“You need to go. Now!”
“Aster,” I started, fear surging fresh and sharp.
“Go, Alex,” he said, “Atlas may already be inside.” I swallowed hard, guilt and terror warring in my chest,
“My friend,” I whispered, and he closed his eyes before nodding, telling me silently all I needed to know. He would hold them off, and as for me, I would have to make every second count.
So, I dug my heels into his side, telling him, “TO ATLAS!”
Acelin reared, then surged forward as the soldiers parted, the monsters turning toward the source of the roar as we broke away, fleeing through the chaos toward whatever waited ahead.
The moment we broke from the circle, everything changed.
The fragile pocket of protection snapped shut behind us as the soldiers fell back into the fray, their shouts swallowed by the rising roar.
Acelin thundered forward, his injured leg no longer an issue as he raced ahead with impossible speed.
I leaned down closer to his body, holding on for dear life, ignoring the strain in my fingers.
Behind us, the roar came again.
I twisted in the saddle despite myself and saw Aster turn toward it, planting himself between the darkness and the thinning line of soldiers. His form was immense now, horns fully curved, his presence forcing the shadows back in wary ripples as if they feared him even as they closed in.
He did not look back.
The certainty struck me. He was staying. Not because he believed himself untouchable, but because someone had to stand where the line was breaking. Someone had to choose to hold.
Just like the Way Weaver had.
“No,” I whispered, my grip tightening painfully on the reins. “Aster…”
The wind tore the word from me.
I remembered the way the darkness had peeled from fallen bodies, leaving empty shells behind. This was what it did. It consumed, discarded, and moved on. And Aster was standing between it and everyone else without hesitation.
I had to make it count.
I pressed low against Acelin’s neck again and forced myself forward, tears stinging my eyes as the ground shook violently behind us. Strangely, ash was falling thick as snow now, coating my lashes, burning my throat with every breath.
And then heat slammed into us without warning.
Acelin screamed and veered sharply, and the world tilted violently as my grip failed. There was no time to scream, no time to brace, only the sickening fall and the earth rushing up to meet me.
I hit hard and rolled, pain exploding through my body as momentum carried me through dirt and stone until everything stilled.
I lay there gasping, clawing for air, the sky spinning overhead.
Then the light vanished.
A shadow fell across me, vast and suffocating.
It was not a cloud but something unholy separated from nature.
A threat unlike any other…
It was the Typhon.