Page 98 of The Coven of Ruin
Ares stumbled back, blinking slowly. His sword arm dropped, and Thel stalked toward him with a triumphant sneer, amethyst eyes gleaming amongst the black.
“You took everything from me,” Thel’s ancient voice echoed in the space. “I haven’t even begun to make you feel everything I have felt.” He wrenched his blade from Ares’ arm, causing the war god to clench his teeth as he did.
Just as she thought Ares would fall, his body swaying unsteadily, he brought his other arm up, burying a knife in the shadow god’s heart.
Illean’s dagger.
Thel stepped back, his form pulsing unevenly as if lightning danced within him. Stars appeared and disappeared, visions of the universe racing through him. He snarled; his teeth bared at Ares as he looked from the hilt to the war god.
And then he vanished, stars bursting and dying as he did.
Trista stumbled toward Ares.
“Fuck,” the god cursed as he reached for her.
“Ares,” she murmured, her arms shaking as she reached for him.
Their hands touched. Another arrow whizzed past them. They locked eyes, but there were no words that could be said.
The black warped around them in the space where Thel had been. Ares put himself between her and the churning dark, lifting his sword to meet whatever it was. But it was all around them, twisting shapes scrabbling out from the void. They were the same beasts that had been at the Convocation, but as they fully formed, they were much larger, feeding off the night itself. Instinctively, Trista pressed her back to Ares.
“When I say so, you’re going to run for the godswood,” Ares commanded.
“I’m not leaving you,” she replied as the large beast shook its head. It paced in front of her with predatory intent. Its mouth opened to reveal long pointed teeth, glistening with saliva.
“For once in your life, would you listen,” he snapped. “The godswood won’t let me enter. I have too much blood on my hands. You go. You wait for… Grae or Brune. Or you keep running until you find safety.” He swung his blade, his back moving against hers with the motion. Trista gathered her magic around herself even though she had never learned how to wield it as a weapon. She was tired of running.
Ares turned her, trying to keep her out of striking range of the three shadowed beasts that stalked and surrounded them. One lunged at their sides, testing, and Ares brought his sword down and through it. It backed off with a guttural noise, and the others responded with a growling chuff.
Echoing cracks in the field announced the arrival of more mages. They were surrounded.
A vision of wildfire locked behind steel came unbidden to her mind. “Why don’t you use your power?” she asked as they dodged more snapping jaws.
“I don’t have access to it.”
“But I saw it.” And then she understood. The fortification that his power laid behind was meant to keep him from it.
“Give me your hand, quickly,” she rasped.
Blessedly, he did not argue as he reached his free arm back to her. She refocused on their magic—hers a violet hand and his a steel wall that yearned for her touch. The moment they met, her palm pressing against the barrier, it gave way in surrender. His wildfire rushed toward her this time, and she braced herself for its approach.
It was all storming armies—shields and spears, teeth and heart.
But she was not afraid.
At the same time, the slinking beasts realized that all they needed was a coordinated attack to bring them down. All three leapt at them, snapping jaws flying open to tear through flesh.
His power surged around her, through her, and then out. It was devastating.Ruinous.The beasts were caught mid-jump by it, and their shadowed forms erupted outward, scattering to ash. It rushed toward the clearing and the remaining mages, pulling them into its yawning path and devouring them.
It rippled and tidal waved out until there was nothing left.
Ares staggered, pulling his grasp from hers and his essence with it. The aftermath of his power left a vacuous silence in its wake. She stared out at its devastating path until the god’s heaving breath had her rounding on him. Now that she was closer, she could see that Thel’s cursed dagger had gone through his arm and into his side.
“You don’t get to die,” she commanded, pressing her hands to his chest to keep him upright.
He smiled slyly, blood covering his teeth.
“Swear it,” she gasped desperately, struggling to call up her magic. “You don’t get to die for me.”
