Page 94 of Oath of War
Suddenly, a dark presence rose inside me, and I felt them all. The twisted spectrae, caught between life and death, forever denied respite in the arms of the Dark Mother. The stumbling remnants, whose last hours were warped by Cahyon’s touch. The fallen soldiers, desperately reaching for the Veil, hoping the afterlife would grant them peace.
It was time to right the wrong, to cleanse the taint of our undead foe. To bring justice to the fallen and to purge the tormented souls from the world of the living. That was what Arachne wanted. It was what I wanted. But the choice was mine and mine alone.
‘Yes, my child, I chose you for a purpose. Now burn them all.’
The echo of the Dark Mother’s laugh resonated in my mind as I gathered all the threads in my hand, screaming my hatred into a simple command.
‘Išatum!’7
1.Striga(s.)/strigae(pl.)— a female demon born of a violent death who hunts those who have wronged them. Once their vengeance is complete, they will hunt any human, and appear as skinny females with two rows of teeth, large claws, and leather-like hair.
2.Kneel!
3.Bies(s.)/biesy (pl.)/pron:b-yes/— a personification of all the undefined evil forces in nature. They were massive bison-like beasts with horns and hooves that were hostile and resistant to most types of weapons.
4.Manticore— a beast with a lion's body, human head, and scorpion tail that loves to eat their victim whole after paralysing them with scorpion's venom.
5.Harpy (s.)/harpies (pl.)— arapaciousmonster described as having a woman's head and body and a bird's wings andclaws; depicted as a bird ofpreywith a woman's face.
6.Latawiec(s.)/pron:Lata-vi-etc/latawce(pl.)/latav-ce/—shapeshifting demons. They flew in the currents of the wind. Their physical bodies were similar to large birds, with sharp claws and colourful feathers, but they had human heads
7.Burn!
We fought for what felt like hours, but no matter how many of the enemy we destroyed, there were always more to take their place. We were losing. Worse still, Vahin was in trouble, and even though he refused to admit it, his thoughts were sluggish, and his wings were struggling to keep us in the air.
‘Orm!’ he roared in warning before dropping several metres. I knew we were nearing the end, despite my sharing every ounce of strength I had. My dragon was dying—he’d sacrificed his life essence for too long.
‘I know. Hold on as long as you can, but land when it gets to be too much. If you can’t fight, head for the camp so I can protect Ani,’ I said, pointing towards her tent.
From the corner of my eye, a violet light caught my attention. At first, I thought it was a necromancer using their magic, but as I focused, I saw it twist and turn, reaching ahead like a forest fire. That was when I felt it: a wave of power that tugged in mychest moments before the conflagration washed over us like a tidal wave.
The spectrae flickered, freezing in place, but what I saw on the ground left me speechless.
The undead attacking the camp were on their knees, soldiers cutting through them as if harvesting wheat.
Not only were the spectrae paralysed, but every monster on the battlefield had stopped. The pause was brief, but when they moved again, they had reverted to their primal state. They no longer followed orders, instead running amok in every direction, attacking friend and foe indiscriminately.
Undead draugrs were on their knees, and every wraith unmoving, leaving the Moroi frantic and confused. At the very centre of the commotion, wielding the uncanny magic, was Annika. She walked through the battlefield surrounded by a cohort of women, and everywhere she went, the undead fell to the ground.
As I looked down at my stubborn woman, I realised her magic felt different; it didn’t give me that soft thrill in my chest it usually did. Instead, there was a dark, ominous aura surrounding her. It was the death of light, the end of hope—and it frightened me.
It wasn’t Annika. It wasn’t even Alaric. It was something so primal that I felt claws tighten around my throat.
‘Vahin?’ I asked, but he couldn’t answer as he tried and failed to keep us airborne. The spectrae followed us as we hurtled towards the ground, their bodies almost tangible, bloated with the life they’d siphoned from my dragon. Annika must have sensed us because she raised her head, tilting it slightly, and I flinched from the emotionless, icy gaze.
Despite my reaction, I couldn’t look away, falling into the depths of her black eyes, feeling death itself weighing on my soul.
The woman I loved with every fibre of my being terrified me and even the beast hidden inside me recognised that what looked back at me was no longer my Ani, but a being that had existed before time—as if Nyja,1 the goddess of death, herself had come down to even the scales.
I didn’t hear what she said as she cast a spell, but the world around me exploded, consumed by fire. The spectrae screeched as they were incinerated, their tethers instantly vanishing from Vahin’s core.
The wind roared in my ears as my dragon beat his wings, the flames filling his body with vitality. We ascended at such speed that my breath was ripped from my lungs, and my ears deafened when he roared his defiance.
Vahin was unstoppable, black scales glowing blue as purple lightning streaked down his wings and heavy storm clouds rushed down from the mountains.
He circled, creating a ring of fire, but it was the lightning that scorched the ground that stunned me. My prime dragon, the Aether of Storms, showered the ground with thunderbolts and only then did I see the biesy descending upon Annika’s group.
I could barely hold myself in the saddle as the immense power of Annika’s spell reverberated through my very core, the excess of its power straining our Anchor bond. I knew Vahin’s flames—we’d been through this many times fighting spectrae—but the searing cold was new, freezing the remaining breath in my lungs.
