Nathaniel throws something. It fizzles mid-air, dissolving before it hits. Whatever it was meant to do, it’s already failed.
The wraith turns back to us, eyes locking on me again.
“Get back, Skye,” Cassian growls.
She strikes him again, trying to get to me. His shoulder jolts from the impact, his arm trembling with the effort, but still,somehow, he begins to press the dagger against her, angling it toward her chest, toward her heart.
Then she wraps her arm around his, and her claws begin to dig into his bicep.
The first drops of crimson hit the tile.
That’s what breaks me.
My hands shake. My body hums with the power Cassian poured into me, still burning beneath my skin like lit oil. I close my eyes and will it to move. To answer me. This time, I want to control it before it controls me.
I can’t just stand here. I have to act.
And I do.
The moment I open my eyes, I’m in front of the boy, not Cassian, and without thinking, I drag my foot across the rune circle.
The lines shatter.
The boy stumbles back as it releases him, his eyes flashing brighter than I thought possible. Not human bright. Not quite Reaper bright, either. Something else.
Behind me, Cassian grunts as the wraith recoils, her head snapping toward the broken circle as if she felt it too.
The boy doesn’t hesitate. He steps forward once, twice, and the shift is instant.
The temperature plunges.
What I felt before wasn’t cold.Thisis.
He changes.
The scythe doesn’t appear in his hand, it erupts from it. One second, there’s nothing. The next, it unfolds from his palm like it was growing from bone.
I’ve never seen anything like it.
And clearly, I’m not the only one. The wraith hisses, sharper now. Her attention rips away from Cassian and lands on the boy with a soundless scream.
Whatever she planned for Cassian, it’s forgotten.
Now, the boy’s the only thing that matters.
Her whole body shifts toward him.
She lunges.
And the boy meets her head-on.
“Run,” he tells us. “I’ll handle her.”
What?
Cassian lets out a low, disbelieving laugh. There’s no humor in it, just the raw edge of adrenaline. He steps beside me, blood dripping from his arm in thick lines. His eyes, mismatched, stormy and unflinching, stay fixed on the boy.
Then he nods.
