Without hesitating, Cyrus dropped to the ground, covering his head with his hands.
“Evander, take cover!” he bellowed.
Then, with every ounce of strength he still possessed, he rained down lightning on the beasts that swarmed him. Flashes of blinding light burst all around him. Each bolt slammed into the ground with a deafening sound, makinghis ears rattle. The harpies’ cries turned into anguished sounds, drowned out by each crash of thunder. The smell of charred flesh and burnt feathers stung Cyrus’s nose.
He kept his head buried, flinching from each strike. He hadn’t yet struck himself with his power… but he knew it was a very real possibility. He was not immune to Titan magic. He knew that firsthand.
When the harpies were finally silenced and the air went still once more, Cyrus lifted his head. He could see a bit more clearly now, but everything was still hazy, and the corners of his vision were still dark.
He had likely sustained permanent damage from that fall. But he couldn’t dwell on that now.
“Evander?” he called, staggering forward. Dizziness clouded his mind. Gods, he had overexerted himself. He had nothing left.
He needed rest. He needed a healer.
His feet nearly tripped over the hundreds of bird carcasses now littering the ground. While he should have been impressed by the amount of power he’d exerted, all he felt was dread.
Because he was spent. Burnt out. And if even one harpy survived that attack, he was done for. He had nothing left to fight with.
“Evander, dammit, answer me!” Cyrus barked, his voice hoarse. His legs wobbled, and he reluctantly sank to his knees. He couldn’t go any further.
A raspy cough made him stiffen, his heart lifting.
“Was that really necessary?” Evander’s voice sounded thin.
But he was alive. A relieved smile spread across Cyrus’s face. “Thank the gods. You scared the shit out of me.”
“I scaredyou? That’s hilarious. Thanks for the lightning storm, by the way.”
Cyrus’s smile only grew. He had never been able to joke with Evander like this before. Cyrus had been too power-hungry, and Evander had been too reserved.
But they were different people now. They had both found their confidence and their purpose.
And, wounded as he was, Cyrus couldn’t have been more grateful to be there on that battlefield with his brother.
“Can you walk?” Cyrus asked. “Because I can’t. I think I might just collapse here and lose consciousness.”
“Cyrus,” Evander said, his tone suddenly sharp. “Do you hear that?”
Cyrus froze, straining to listen. Then, he heard it.
The beating of wings. Growing closer, closer, closer…
“Cyrus!” Evander shouted.
A harpy struck Cyrus in the chest, driving him into the ground. Cyrus roared, clawing at the creature, trying to summon a modicum of his power.
But it was completely dried up. He had nothing.
Evander’s shouts faded as the harpy’s talons tore at Cyrus’s flesh. Fabric ripped. Blood spilled. Cyrus managed to elbow the harpy in the face, but it retaliated by thrusting its sharp beak directly into Cyrus’s eye.
His scream drowned out everything else as an explosion of pain consumed his body. He fell backward, his head hitting the ground. Hot blood gushed from his eye, and now he was truly blind. He couldn’t see at all.
The harpy’s weight pressed on him, its putrid breath burning his face. Gods, this was the end. He was about to be devoured by a godsdamnedharpy,of all things.
I’m sorry, Prue,he thought, his body going limp as he accepted his fate.
A sudden explosion of magic burst in the air, rippling across the ground. The earth beneath him trembled like before, but there were no cracks. No massive crevices.
