Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 47068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 235(@200wpm)___ 188(@250wpm)___ 157(@300wpm)
I yawn, laying my head against the seatback as I watch Dax and Reaper slowly melting through the ice covering the bridge we need to cross. My eyelids droop, exhaustion trying to drag me under. I float in that void between wakefulness and sleep, my gaze locked on Reaper's lyststål as he sweeps it over the ice in careful passes.
A shadow moves in the dark. For a moment, my mind doesn't register it as anything more than the wind rustling through the trees. And then it comes again. I shift my gaze from Reaper, hunting down the shadow.
"Dax!" I scream, flinging myself out of the truck. "Varulv!"
Dozens of them slip out of the woods on soundless paws, coming from every direction.
Dax spins toward me, his lyststål in his hands. As soon as he sees what I do, horror overtakes his expression. There are too many to fight for them to fight this time. Already, they cut in between the truck and the bridge, cutting off their only route to safety. Cutting us off from one another.
"Get back in the truck!" Dax roars.
"I'm not leaving you!" I cry, tears rolling down my face. What was it he said? A person can't survive with half a soul. He's right. I can't survive with only half of mine. I don't get a chance to tell him that. I don't get a chance to say anything else.
The varulv attack as one mighty force, their howls rending the air.
They advance on Dax and Reaper, snarling and snapping at the air. There are so many of them I lose track of Dax as he rushes into battle, trying to defend himself and his brother.
"Get in the truck, Valkyrie," Malachi says, his lyststål blazing as he races around the side of the truck. "Drive through them if you have to do it. Drive through us if you must. But don't get out of the truck no matter what. No matter what happens, the Forsaken cannot take you."
"Malachi," I cry, wrapping my arms around myself.
The giant, friendly Fae roars and plows into the nearest varulv, knocking the animal off its feet. They go rolling, knocking several others aside.
I scramble into the truck, sobbing the whole time. My gaze falls on the walkie talkie. I grab it, hitting the button to talk. "Hello? Hello? Damrion? We need help! We're under attack!"
I release the button, waiting for a response.
None comes.
I try again. "If anyone can hear me, we need help. There are dozens of varulv. We can't fight them. We can't…" I sob into the radio. "Please, help us."
Still, no one answers. God, is anyone else even still alive to hear my call? Or are we entirely on our own out here? I don't know. But I can't let Dax die. I can't let his brothers die. This isn't what I was born to do…to die crying in a truck while the man who owns my soul gets torn apart by demon wolves.
For the second time in my life, I intentionally reach for the power Dax is so sure I wield. Not the little bits I've grasped for my entire life. Not strength to get me through a dark moment or courage to face what's in front of me. But the Light of the Valkyrie, the same power my ancestors wielded. They touched souls with that power, united realms, and when they needed to do it, they struck down their enemies with fierce blasts of Light none could withstand. That's what I reach for now.
I fling every door in my soul open to it, allowing it to flood through every cell of my body. I feed my emotions into it—my fear for Dax, my absolute terror that I'm going to fail at this task that's been set before me, the grief I felt standing in the Fae Hall of Warriors, and the fierce, radiant devotion growing in my heart for the Fae whose soul is somehow, in some way, bound to mine.
Light fills me, crackling like electricity. I feel it surging through every fiber of my being, hotter than the sun, more powerful than anything I've ever felt. I climb from the truck, and the world quakes at my feet.
Ice turns to steam beneath my boots. The air steams around me. I march forward, straight toward the varulv surrounding the three Fae warriors.
Dax senses me coming. He feels me as if I'm standing beside him, just as I feel him. Pride rolls from him. And fear. Even now, he worries for me. He's afraid for me.
The varulv closest to me steps too close to the Light surrounding me and goes up in flames exactly like the Forsaken did at the bar. His screams rend the air, far too human. He falls into another varulv, and it ignites too. I keep moving forward, walking right through the center of them. One by one, they ignite. One by one, they die.