Page 140 of Where Darkness Falls

“Looks like we’re feasting well tonight, boys,” the leader grunts.

The clan howls in animalistic sounds of approval.

I smirk as my shadows twirl down my arm toward Scrisis. “I’m sorry, mate,” I say coolly, “but we respectfully decline your invitation.”

The leader snorts in derision. “Well, unlucky for you,boy,tonight is a full course meal—starting with that beauty behind you,” the Minotaur replies, gesturing to Maeva.

Over my dead body.

Scrisis hums with my power as it becomes a mixture of shadow and lightning—a harbinger of death. This is our one shot to intimidate them.

Time to make it count.

My shadows travel past my body, just as the other members of the Cadre allow their own abilities to show in all of their glory.

Worried expressions cross the Minotaurs’ features, as if realizing who we are.

Too late.

They sealed their fate the moment they pursued us—definitely after threatening to eat our Rosey.

The demon. The beast. The summoner. The wraith.

The four deadliest soldiers in all of Celestae, bringing judgment to all those who deserve it.

Today’s judgment we’ll relish in—as long as we survive.

“Today, you’ve been judged and found guilty of threatening to murder King Tiernan’s High General, Cadre, and his most honored guest,” I shout.

The clan shuffles their feet but continues to hold their ground.

They’re all fools.

“My cadre, what’s the punishment for such an offense?” I ask.

“Death,” they say in unison.

I smile sardonically as a few of the creatures stumble back, possibly looking for an escape route.

They should’ve considered that before they attacked us.

I twirl Scrisis rhythmically, testing its weighted balance in my hand. “Very well,” I growl. “The Cadre has spoken. May Siorai have mercy on your souls.”

Then, we charge.

My stomach churnsas gore and blood fly in every direction as the Cadre clash with the small band of Minotaurs. Even in training, they never display this level of efficient violence. Their bodies move fluidly, like water coursing down a steady stream, while striking blow after blow against their foes. Though the creatures dwarf the Cadre in size and force, the deadly soldiers are stealthy and lethal in their own rights.

Riordan utilizes a series of high-pitched whistles to control the formation of the “death-ravens.” The winged beasts of chaos sail down, swiping their pinions along the bodies of two unsuspecting Minotaurs. The creatures yelp in pain as round, bubbling holes appear in their flesh from the contact, burning through sinew and bone. The Nattravnen continue their assault until the Minotaurs are no more than charred heaps on the ground.

Emyr’s blade slices through each foe with ease. However, blood doesn’t drip from Scrisis.

His blade is quite unique indeed.

A creature charges Emyr from behind, attempting to catch him off-guard. As the Minotaur draws closer, Emyr doesn’t turn around as he fights another in front of him. The horrid beast raises its ax above its head—just yards away from Emyr.

My heart lurches in my chest. “Emyr! Behind you!” I scream.

While I’m not sure if he heard me above the chaos, I release a breath when Emyr turns swiftly, blocking the creature’s ax attempts to sever his head from his body. Emyr’s quickness saved him by mere seconds as he ducks out of the way, tripping the charging Minotaur into one of his companions. The creature’s ax buries itself into his comrade’s chest. It roars in anger as it watches blood spurt from the friend’s open gash. Angrily, the burly creature whirls around. “You’ll pay for his death with your life,” it seethes.

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