Gall grasped it with both hands, flipping and writhing on the stage, his legs flailing, and the Advisor’s shouting—Jann was there, directing others and trying to keep Gall from harming himself further—but just as my guts turned to stone and my eyes welled, Gall stopped writhing.
He froze, back arched so high only his shoulders and ass touched the stage. His heels drummed, silent among the Nephilim masses cheering, roaring, cursing…
And then he slumped. His bloodied hands slipped from where he’d gripped that awful, thick arrow, and his body went still.
13. Mortal Wound
SOUNDTRACK:Heavy is the Crownby Arcane, Mike Shinoda, and Emily Armstrong
~ MELEK ~
The world disappeared. The darkness. The men. The shouts.All of it.Nothing registered but my increasingly rasping breath, and the drum of my heart inside my skull.
My son was dying.And there wasn’t a single fucking thing I could do to save him.
I observed the surge of the Nephilim, the roars, the impending frenzy with a surreal detachment—my bodycertainI’d just seen my son murdered, my heart broken, my mind racing.
Deep within, a small, quiet voice whispered caution and comfort. But I could barely hear it over the—
“THE KING IS DEAD!”
The shout, when it came—from one of the Advisors on the stage—was met with a frenetic roar.
I dropped to my knees, only barely aware of Yilan’s warm grip on my shoulder and arm.
“It’s not true, Melek. It can’t be. He can’t be—”
The Nephilim—my people—frenzied. Their bodies swelled. Their bellows of joy or protest echoing like animal roars until the very air shook.
No. Please…
Like ants over a carcass, the men of my kind surged to the stage, covering the stairways, descending on the Advisors and Gall’s body in a sickening wave of death and fury that no one could survive. Even if Gall wasn’t already dead, they’d tear him limb from limb.
A Nephilim ruler had to be brutal. Had to be strong. Had to be fierce…
“Melek—” Yilan gasped in my ear.
I shook my head. “They have no mercy. If he’s not already—”
The word caught in my throat.
Yilan gave a quiet sob and the surge of tight, screaming pain in my throat was so intense, it spilled my tears.
“Dear God,no.Please… my boy…please, save my boy.”
“Melek, Jann is there. He’ll help!”
“He can’t fightthis,”I said, my voice a high, reeling croak as I swept one hand towards the chaotic melee below us. Men were already dying down there. Animalistic snarls, wet tearing, curses, shouts, the slap of skin on skin—screams of mortal pain.
I dropped my head into my hands and prayed as I never had before,beggingGod for a miracle, for power, forsomethingthat could change this and bring back my son. Anything.
“CEASE.”
I fought the sudden sensation coursing in my veins toobey.Snarled against a force that wanted to bend my spine in obeisance—
“Melek—look!”
I snapped my head up and my jaw went slack.
