Page 127 of Echoes of War

I can’t see her.

Where is she?

I fucked up big time.

Red stained my hands. It blurred my line of sight, too. I rubbed my face, which only made it worse. There was no pain. In fact, I felt nothing at all. My body moved on autopilot. Slipping through the shadows was taking a toll. I was slowing down, my ax swung slower. I stepped into the shadows at the pace of a sloth.

For me, stepping into the shadows felt like nothing. It was dark for a moment, a blink, then the next I was where I wanted to be within the same vicinity of where I’d slashed throughthis dimension.

I had to have eyes on where I wanted to go. The space had to be exact or less than a pleasant reaction to the magic would spread across your body. I’d had more than enough practice, but as my magic and this weapon exchanged their power, I became exhausted with the constant ebb and flow of hand-to-hand combat.

They were fighting us five on one. Even without their magic, we were still at a disadvantage given their numbers. Covert Province soldiers were smartly herding us apart. It was obvious they knew who they were fighting by how they chose to assault us. Separating me from Amaia on a battlefield was the number one way to distract me. Keeping Amaia from her family was the best way to piss her off. They weren’t aware of who Abel was, but the fact that he fought with intensity beside both of us made him enough of a target to warrant their full attention.

Amaia screamed, a sound fueled by fury. The distraction of the tell-tale distance between her and me cost me. I hesitated a moment too long before stepping into the shadows, no longer moving sporadically in order to not keep a pattern. Instead, my eyes gave me away. I stared at the direction her yell had come from, landing as close as I could.

Pain soared through me, bringing my body off autopilot and rooting it in the present. I looked down, blood trickled from my mouth. A curved blade ripped through my back.

My brows pulled together, I turned, wanting to stare my killer in the eyes. A pale face greeted me, the craters in his skin caked with dirt and blood. He was deceivingly old to be out here in the midst of things. His thin lips pulled into a cruel smile. He shook the blade, bringing me down to my knees. The movement forced me to stare up at him, but the speed of an oncoming figure behind him stole my focus.

I choked on the warm, iron-tasting liquid pouring into my lungs. It was hard to breathe, so hard to speak. He neededto run. This wasn’t his fight, I had to tell him. It was my duty to keep him safe, and I had failed so many already; I didn’t want to fail him too.

The soldier turned, sensing the oncoming assault. Abel sprinted toward us, plasma blade in hand. The second blade was missing, lost in a fight. His eyes were hard, focused, raging.

Ready for a kill.

Blood surged into me, the absence of the blade turning my situation into a dire one. Lightheadedness swam over my body and I fell on my back. Leaving me in the perfect angle to watch the little brother I’d sworn to protect be sliced clean through, at my expense.

There was no more air to take in. I watched in horror as Abel reached for an arm that was no longer attached to his body, his plasma blade on the ground with it. The soldier kicked him back, his boot grinding into Abel’s chest. He writhed beneath him, howling in agony. His head lolled and our eyes met.

“Tell me where Amaia is,” the man demanded, pressing down with his body weight. “Answer me, and keep your pathetic life.”

“Fuck. You.” Abel growled back.

This was wrong. We weren’t together. I promised her together. I won’t let them bury another friend. They can’t have Abel and they can’t have her.

My fingers grasped the shards of grass beneath me, the greenery sticking to the clumping blood on my hands. No magic laid there, the earth did not answer my call.

Death, I dance too close to death.No, I have to get up. If you can still breathe, you can fight.

But I couldn’t breathe. No more oxygen found its way into my lungs, only heavy, warm, liquid.

A gun, you still have your gun.

Shakes fought against me. That and the sharp pain radiating down the left side of my body.

You can do this, thirty more seconds, you can dothis. Stay alert.

The trigger bent to my will, and the gun fired. And then the world went dark.

Tomoe

Wrath flew from my hand, the impact from the asshole slapping the shit out of me causing my grip to loosen. His hand closed in on my neck and I took advantage of my opportunity. My arm shot up, slamming down hard on the cusp of his elbow, granting me my release. I grabbed onto his arm, pulling him tight against the back of my body.

His nose crunched under the pressure of the elbow I threw back. I kicked out at his rib cage, but he latched on, tossing me to the ground. He granted me no mercy, grabbing onto my hair, dragging me across the dirt.

Leaning back, I drove my body forward, my legs wrapping around his waist. He landed with a thud and I grabbed onto Wrath. I wasn’t in the habit of giving my victims time to realizehow the tables had turned before I sliced through his neck, and his head rolled.

Someone grabbed me from behind, their arm closing my airway. Wrath cut through the wind. I flipped her in my palm, jamming her into the side of my attacker. Sneak attacks really pissed me off.

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