“Easy now, you’ve got this,” I whispered, leaning low over Acelin’s neck, my hands tight on the reins. But then a dying scream split the air, and my entire body jerked, terror surging hot and sharp through my veins. The darkness closed in, swallowing sight and sound alike until panic clawed at my throat.
“Aster,” I cried, my voice swallowed by the fog. “Aster!”
“I’m here,” he shouted back, suddenly close again. “But more are coming. We need to move!”
“I can’t see,” I said, heart racing as the darkness pressed tighter. “I can’t get through this.”
His gaze flicked to my side, to the dagger strapped there, understanding flashing instantly.
“The blade!” he bellowed over the noise. “Hold it. The darkness recoiled from Bronte’s lightning before. It should give you room!”
I didn’t hesitate. I reached for the dagger, and the moment my fingers closed around the hilt, the lightning flared to life. Light spilled outward, bright and sharp, forcing the darkness back in a hissing retreat. Symbols along the blade ignited one by one, their glow steady and fierce as hope surged painfully in my chest.
The fog recoiled, revealing a sight that stole my breath.
A ring of Atlas’s soldiers had formed around us, shields raised, blades moving in perfect harmony as they fought tokeep the path clear. They were bleeding… Exhausted…Yet still standing.
Emotion clogged my throat as I looked at Aster.
“Now ride, Alex! Ride to the castle!” he roared, his voice rolling across the battlefield like thunder.
“All of you, protect the girl, get her to the castle!” Aster commanded, each one recognizing his authority. Which meant the soldiers roared back,
“TO THE CASTLE!” The sound rose as one as the circle surged forward, inch by hard-fought inch.
We moved with surprising speed, with Aster remaining close as he fought, cutting down anything that slipped through. But despite our efforts, I could see the strain in his movements now, the cost of holding the line growing heavier with every breath.
Then the ground trembled.
A roar tore through the air, so vast and violent it froze the battlefield mid-strike, every weapon pausing, every head turning as dread swept through us like a wave.
Aster swore, his grip tightening on his sword.
“You need to go. Now!”
“Aster,” I started, fear surging fresh and sharp.
“Go, Alex,” he said, “Atlas may already be inside.” I swallowed hard, guilt and terror warring in my chest,
“My friend,”I whispered, and he closed his eyes before nodding, telling me silently all I needed to know. He would hold them off, and as for me, I would have to make every second count.
So, I dug my heels into his side, telling him, “TO ATLAS!”
Acelin reared, then surged forward as the soldiers parted, the monsters turning toward the source of the roar as we broke away, fleeing through the chaos toward whatever waited ahead.
The moment we broke from the circle, everything changed.
The fragile pocket of protection snapped shut behind us as the soldiers fell back into the fray, their shouts swallowed by the rising roar. Acelin thundered forward, his injured leg no longer an issue as he raced ahead with impossible speed. I leaned down closer to his body, holding on for dear life, ignoring the strain in my fingers.
Behind us, the roar came again.
I twisted in the saddle despite myself and saw Aster turn toward it, planting himself between the darkness and the thinning line of soldiers. His form was immense now, horns fully curved, his presence forcing the shadows back in wary ripples as if they feared him even as they closed in.
He did not look back.
The certainty struck me. He was staying. Not because he believed himself untouchable, but because someone had to stand where the line was breaking. Someone had to choose to hold.
Just like the Way Weaver had.
