Page 40 of Oath of War
I smirked, gripping my sword with trembling fingers. I must have looked like an upiór2—a night creature that fed on blood. My smile, now more of a grimace, was likely as appalling as the carnage surrounding me.
With Talena joining the fight, avoiding injury became nearly impossible. Each strike and parry demanded more effort than I could spare, and the relentless bloodletting took a toll on me. Sweat mingled with blood, blurring my vision until my enemies’ faces blurred into one. My knees buckled as I stumbled a few steps closer to the portal, its sinister hum vibrating through the air.
But even as exhaustion weighed on me, I refused to collapse. ‘I will not die here,’ I hissed, dropping to my knees and digging a hand into the sand. It was a risky move, but nobody said I had to play fair.
‘Išatum exu affla!’3
Fire erupted from my fingertips, surrounding me as the sand bubbled up and solidified into jagged spears of glass. In desperation, I flung my hand out, the spikes impaling my enemies. Blood poured from their bodies as they screamed, trying to escape, and that was finally enough. Alaric’s iron collar snapped open, falling to the ground. With a distressed cry, he pointed at the portal.
‘Run to me!’ he called out, casting a spell. ‘Avri’re wrot a Mater Tenebri!’4
The portal shimmered, its surface bleeding crimson before darkening into an abyss so black it seemed to devour the light.
Summoning every ounce of strength I had, I stumbled to my feet, carving a wind sigil into the air. I poured my dwindling aether reserves into the spell, and as the wind pushed against my back, I ran towards the gleaming portal as fast as my legs would carry me.
Just as I neared its threshold, so close that I almost felt the bitter touch of the void, a bolt of energy slammed into my back, sending me sprawling into the sand. Pain erupted as I rolled over, only to feel the sharp sting of an arrow embedding itself in my sword arm.
A scream tore from my throat as I grabbed the wooden stake, yanking it free with shaking hands. The pain blurred my focus, but the distant roar of a dragon jolted me back to the moment. Vahin must have been close, but as another arrow landed close to my head, I didn’t have time to think.
‘Little Flame,’ his thoughts thundered through my mind, furious as he sensed my pain. ‘Stay where you are. I willburnthe bastard that attacked you. I’ll turn this place into a funeral pyre for what they’ve done to you!’
‘Please no, just wait for me, promise me you’ll wait . . .’ I cried, grunting when Alaric wrapped his arm around my waist to drag me through the portal. As we crossed the threshold, the icy fingers of the void enveloped my mind, breaking our connection.
For one long, weightless moment, it was just me, the bitter regret of all I hadn’t said, and my fear that there would be nothing to come back to after my dragon unleashed his wrath on the city.
I wish I’d had time to say goodbye ... Why didn’t I tell him I loved him?
Something had changed in Vahin’s heart. His thoughts, usually calm and steady, were filled with grief and violence—and the primal fear that he would lose me, too.
And when dragons fear, death dances on the bones of the living.
1.Morana— goddess of death and winter.
2.Upiór /pron:u-pi-oor/— an undead being that arises from one cursed upon their death, appearing as a freshly deceased corpse. An upiór drives their strength from drinking and bathing in the blood of the living and can kill with their shrieks.
3.Burn into a shape!
4.Open Dark Mother’s gate.
Istood surrounded by swirling fog, its cold tendrils caressing my skin and sending shivers down my spine. As a whispering breeze parted the grey curtain, I caught glimpses of a weathered path, its paving cracked and overgrown. I swayed, unsteady, and nearly collapsed before Alaric caught me. His arm circled my waist, steadying me as my strength faded.
‘Ani, lean on me,’ he murmured, lowering me to the ground when my knees gave way.
The stone beneath us was ancient, its worn surface cloaked in a thick layer of moss, and when I looked up, the mists withdrew completely, exposing a structure in the distance.
It wasn’t what I’d expected. I had assumed there would be a magnificent temple worthy of a goddess. Instead, what stood in front of me was a monolithic black wall, its edges disappearing into the fog, glowing blue inscriptions scribbled over the surface.
I raised my hand to wipe the condensation beading on my forehead, wincing as pain flared in my shoulder. At least thebleeding had slowed.
‘Gods, Annika,’ Ari said, kneeling beside me, his gaze flicking over my wounds. ‘You fought like a demon—let me try to heal some of it. I’ve never been so proud ... and so terrified, helplessly watching you as you tore through those fae warriors and made them bleed.’
‘They weren’t the only ones bleeding,’ I muttered, gritting my teeth as I tried to ignore the aches and stinging cuts scattered across my body. But my shoulder refused to be ignored. I could barely lift my arm. ‘If you insist on using your magic, can you fix this? I’ll manage better with both arms working.’
‘Of course, Domina.’ There was a concerning rasp in Alaric’s voice, but his adoring tone made me smile.
I sighed when he placed his hands on my shoulder, warmth spreading from his fingertips. Within moments, I could breathe easier and even move my arm, but as soon as he drew the sigil, he hissed, turning away to hide his expression.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
