Page 172 of Cursed Shadows 4

And I bring it down on him just as an eruption of shouts blast from the battlefield.

Daxeel swerves aside—and the blade sinks into his shoulder.

I rip it out with a feral shout, then lunge at him.

Daxeel falls onto his back, eyes wide,stunned.

He just watches as I come down on him, the black-slicked blade aiming at his chest.

He twists a moment before the strike. Still, the blade sinks into his chest, right at the curve of his pec—but on the wrong fucking side.

My shout is a throaty sound, a flare of frustration, of tears streaming through me, and I tear out the blade once more.

I don’t get the chance to bring it down again, not before Daxeel throws out his fist, and the impact thuds into my head. My temple blasts with the assault—and I am thrown off his body.

I land on the snow in a heap.

A daze is quick to steal me.

Distantly, I am aware of my legs writhing, as though instinct is trying to push me up, get me onto my feet—but all I can do is lie here on my side.

Daxeel turns his cheek to press into the snow.

Streams of black, oozing out of his fresh wounds, drip onto the snow and melt it away.

He blinks his heavy lashes over wet eyes.

My insides thrash at the sight of it, the tears gathered like mists.

He just… looks at me.

My face twists with the wave of tears.

He is wounded. Badly.

But not dead.

Mother receives no death…

And yet, her answer comes.

‘Four… Five…’

A shudder rattles the mountain under my back—and I know Mother is rolling over in the abyss, ready to find her slumber again.

‘Four… Five…’

It happens so fast I can hardly understand what I am seeing.

A gust of darkness, of pure inky shadows, barrels through Daxeel with enough force to throw him off the ground. His body spirals up through the air—but he is deadweight, utterly limp.

My breath hitches into a cry as the shadows blast… and Daxeel plummets down to the snow.

He hits the ground, hard. And still, the shadows are pummelling him, coursingthroughhim, trying to break freefromhim.

He doesn’t writhe or grunt or fall to his knees. Those shadows he’s kept with him since the first passage, they are thicker and more now, a cloud.

‘Four… Five…’

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