Page 157 of Between Sun and Moon

My spine arched, the muscles in my legs firing as I bent backwards. The arrow sailed over my chest, missing me by nary an inch. I leapt upright, conjured another sword, and turned to the Demi God.

He sneered, his face so much like Aurelius’s, I paused. He raised his bow, nocking another arrow. But he didn’t get the chance to fire it because a Cursed, one I recognized from the Well, swung a battle ax made of earth and stone at him. The razor-sharp blade bit into the Demi God’s side.

I didn’t see what happened next because a wave of Cursed and Demi Gods descended upon us. They were all running in the same direction . . .

Butwhatwere they runningfrom?

I swirled to my right and fought the powerful tide of warriors threatening to sweep me away as I tried to see what was coming for us. Tried to see what had sent both enemy and ally scattering like a spooked herd of antelope . . .

My eyes widened.

Golden wings ate up the horizon, their vast expanse etched with flame.

Aurelius.

And he was coming straight for me.

Von

For weeks, I had lain on this cement slab like a useless meatsuit as my healers conducted their tests. And not once had I felt a thing.

But now . . . I could feel.

I could feel the ice-cold metal as it pressed against my skin. At the same time, Folkoln’s hand wrapped around my wrist.

“This might hurt,” he acknowledged, his tone flat.

Then the blade slit into my forearm. Skin and sinew snapped as the blade severed off a chunk of flesh about the size of my clenched fist.

“Fuck sakes!” I roared as I jerked upright, my eyelids flaring open.

Folkoln’s ugly mug was the first thing to greet me. The Blade of Moram, in his hand, was the next. It had blood on it. Not mine.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” he said sarcastically, smirking to himself. “How nice for you to join us again in the land of the dead.”

I pushed him away. “You are the last thing any soul should see upon first waking.”

“You really shouldn’t talk,” Folkoln chuckled as he tossed something on my lap. “You are free from your deal, brother.”

I glanced down, finding two slabs of severed, tattooed skin. One was bloody and the other was not. The skin color was different, but they both had one linking factor—both were inked with a skull wearing the Crown of Thorns. The one belonged to me, which meant that the other one was from the royal ass licker.

I waved my hand over top the slabs of flesh and they disappeared, swallowed up by shadows and erased from existence.

My deal with Arkyn was done.

I looked at my forearm, peering at the bloodless wound. Threads of skin wove overtop of one another, slowly stitching themselves back together. I flexed my hand and rotated my arm. Creator above, it felt good to be able to move again.

“How did you find the Blade of Moram?” I asked, glancing to the injury in my stomach made from Sage’s blade. It was starting to heal, but at a much slower rate.

When Folkoln didn’t answer right away, I looked at him. “What is it?” I demanded.

“Saphira had it.”

Adrenaline pumped into my veins. Saphira’s hatred towards me was deeper than the Da’Nu. She would not have parted with the Blade of Moram easily. Unless she got something out of it.

“What did you trade her?”

“I didn’t trade her anything.” Folkoln’s onyx eyes met mine. “Sage did.”

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