And Cyph was hanging on to consciousness for the sake of saving her.
And I was…I was…failing. Being the weak, inadequate man they’d turned me into.
I’d made amends. Made so many fucking amends to those around me in recent months. But this…everything going on inside my head…I’d avoided it.
And now it was undoing me.
The Engrossians stalked up the stairs, almost close enough to reach me.
Cowardly, I stepped backward. My foot landed in the puddle of Cyph’s blood, deep red and once so full of life, now death beneath me. It tainted the stones, so much of it. And yet he fought. He wouldn’t give up until Vale was safe, because Cyph was a true warrior. Despite his past, despite his views of himself, he was resilient.
My sword was raised toward the Engrossians, but the blade shook in my hands. I adjusted my stance, and the ax I’d stuck in my belt swung against my thigh.
I jolted but looked down at it for a moment.
I am no longer a captive.
Cyph fought—he fought for someone he cared about. Who was I to stop myself from doing the same?
The axes were only objects. These opponents were only warriors. I sheathed my sword and pulled the enemy weapon from my hip. It was a blade like any other—it could hurt me if I allowed it to, or I could end its reign.
Stepping forward, leaving a bloody footprint, I tightened my grip around the foreign handle.
“You chose the wrong fucking time to mess with me,” I snarled. Determination was igniting within me. The anger I’d tasted before returned with each plea that left my friend’s lips, with each drop of blood that spilled from his body.
I lunged at one of the Engrossians. The ax was top heavy, a balance I wasn’t used to, but I ducked his first blow and used the momentum to swing around.
I was quick. The weapon lodged in his ribs. With a grunt, I wrenched it free and he tumbled down the stairs. He landed flat on his back with an echoing crunch and didn’t move again.
Then, there was a grunt behind me.
I whirled. The other two Engrossians were circling me, cornering me against the temple wall.
I looked between them. They were both larger than I was, both their weapons heavier, too. Nerves clawed up my throat as I looked between their axes, the knives strapped to their belts.
One raised his weapon, swinging downward in a perfect arc to swipe my head from my body.
I spun to the side at the last moment, tucking against the wall. The blade clashed against stone. He struck again, and this time I met it with my ax. The force rocked up my arm, jarring my shoulder.
I gritted my teeth for a third swing, seeing the last Engrossian raise her own weapon.
Then, a flash of platinum hair streamed up the steps, and a smallknife rammed into the woman’s back. Blood bubbled up her lips as she swayed. The Engrossian fell at my feet, and Mila stood in her place, both of us turning to the final warrior.
“Need help?” Mila flashed a wry smile.
“Holy fucking Spirits,” I breathed. “I’ve never been more relieved to see someone.” I didn’t care where she’d come from or how she knew to find us here, I was simply glad to not be alone.
“I thought you might give up for a second there,” she joked, as if we hadn’t killed two opponents and now faced down a third.
“Would you have saved me if I had?” A smirk actually lifted my lips.
Mila laughed, a sound like cruel death. She was a huntress stalking her prey, and some part of me enjoyed the feral spark in her eye. “Yes, but I would have been really fucking angry that I had to.”
“Glad I saved you the trouble, then,” I answered.
We both raised swords. Blood dripped from our weapons, creating a steady tune to carve out life.
The final Engrossian was smart to look scared as I swung. Our weapons clashed, the blunt force of his ax against the fine precision of my sword.
