Page 196 of Curse of Darkness
Then his lip curls in a snarl as he sweeps Andraste out of the way with a lash of lightning, striding toward the crevice as if he’s going to tear Vi right out of the well.
I have to trust that she knows what she’s doing.
I have to trust that she’s not gone.
Darkyn steel forges to life in my hand like the beating heart of a black hole. I step between them, bringing it up in a defensive stance.
“Are you ready?” I whisper to Death.
It’s like the world ices over.
Cold shivers through my veins, the world plunging into darkness.
But it’s a darkness I understand.
One I know.
A world where I see the Horned One as he truly is: a dark figure standing two inches taller than me, with gray skin and a thick mane of wild dark hair. Strands of gold stream through his veins as if his heart beats with the power of the Hallows.Ala, Vi called it. I can see it in him. See it surging thick through his body, his heart a beating pump of pure gold light.
His heart is his weakness.
And my sword is his doom.
“You will not take her.” I step toward him, sword held low and my eyes locked upon him, searching for an opening.
He sneers at me. “Such a child. I remember dancing with your ancestor, all those years ago. And you have not half the viciousness he had.”
“I don’t need it,” I tell him firmly. “These are my lands. These are my people. And this is mywife. Iwillstop you from harming them.”
His sword lashes out; a feint.
Because a fistful of lightning blurs toward me.
Heat and pain scores across my cheek in three razor-thin gouges as I duck out of the way.
“Hold the sword!” Death screams.
Somehow, I keep it formed. Our blades meet, the shock of it ricocheting, shearing right through the Hallow stones. An enormous groan tears through the earth as they fall outward, dust rising in plumes.
He comes at me again, smoke rippling from his amorphous form, making it hard to see where his body exists. Feinting to the left, I duck below the blade, whipping mine across his chest.
And then he bellows, his knee going out beneath him.
Edain bares his teeth at me as he staggers out of the way, barely escaping the whiplash of lightning the Horned One flings in retaliation. The hilt of one of his daggers sticks out of the back of the Horned One’s knee.
“Together,” he yells at me. “We can take him if we work together.”
Andraste appears at my side, her golden hair whipping behind her in the wind, her ash-covered face grim with determination. Her sword is pure fire, pure heat. And while I once thought her the enemy, I nod at her, even as the towering goblin king who hovers over her like a shadow stalks the Horned One from the other side.
“We’ve got to give her time,” I tell them.
Andraste’s gaze jerks toward the Hallow as it shudders. “How much time?”
“Enough,” I grate out.
“As one,” she says.
“As one,” I repeat.
