Lykor collided with something solid, the impact rattling his teeth as he and Jassyn staggered back. Baring his fangs, he spun.
Caged.
A violet shield cinched around them, its pulsating energy suffocating. Power hummed, the current of Essence prickling along his arms.
Lykor clawed at his Well but dredged up only drops of magic from his depleted reservoir. Rending flickered, a faint wisp of shadows smoking feebly around his fist. Not enough to scrape through.
Like a trapped animal, he lashed out with his gauntlet, each desperate strike useless against the ward.
Magic spilled from the elves advancing through the portals, streams of Essence reinforcing the barrier. A hundred—maybe two—surrounded them, hands outstretched, raw power hovering at their splayed fingertips. The bioluminescent light cast shadows across their faces, expressions grim with purpose.
“Give me what’s left in your Well!” Lykor barked, fear burning away as fury ignited. “Or do something useful and unravel this fucking shield!”
Jassyn’s hands shook as he pooled magic into his palms. His eyes darted around the elves, a swarm of hornets closing in for the kill.
Before he could offer the gathered power to Lykor, the barrier shattered, splintering into fractured light.
In its wake, shadows surged. Darkness coiled around Lykor and Jassyn like binding chains, driving them to their knees.
Helpless.
Lykor wrestled against the rending, his muscles straining in vain. This was his doing—his reckless stupidity had dragged them into danger. And for what? A herd of fucking goats.
A savage snarl ripped from his chest as two females stepped forward, breaking from the circle of Essence-wielders. Lykor’s glare seared between them—an elf clad in blood-red leathers and…a partially transformed wraith.
Disbelief jolted through him. Peering at her, Lykor processed the bones woven into her golden braids, the paint rimming her eyes. A hollow laugh escaped him, the realization bitter in his throat.
Of course the elves had infused the fucking reavers with Essence, no doubt twisting them into puppets with empty promises of power.
“That’s Lykor,” the traitorous reaver crowed, her voice honeyed with triumph as she turned to the crimson-haired female at her side.
Lykor glanced at Jassyn, whose eyes were unfocused and distant, staring at nothing. Of all the fucking times to go catatonic.
He’s probably sending for help to clean up your mess,Aesar fumed, flinging an accusatory finger.
But Lykor neededhim, the bite of his shaman power. Or his darker side. That vile, gut-wrenching coercion that could bludgeon minds and obliterate wills.
Lykor loathed it, his lip curling at the thought, but right now, he’d turn that weapon against these elves—do whatever it took to tear them free from this stars-cursed disaster.
“Interesting,” the female in red mused. A crystal embedded in her diadem gleamed as the elves summoned globes of illumination.
Lykor’s nostrils flared when she reached for him, plucking a strand of his hair and twirling it around a painted nail.
“A portal to the palace,” she clipped over her shoulder before shooting him a smirk. “We’re going straight to the king with these two.” Snapping her fingers at one of the Essence-wielders and the renegade reaver, she said, “See that we’re expected.”
A rift unfurled and the pair disappeared.
The threat of the king sent a tremor rippling through Lykor, instinct flaring to life. He didn’t think—he shoved Aesar deep into the recesses of their mind. Cocooning him in safety, locking him far away from this rising peril.
Taunting him, the female trailed a finger along Lykor’s jaw. He snapped his fangs at her before he could stop himself.
She flinched and yanked her hand back, her lips parting to release a quick gasp. But her shock dissolved as quickly as it had appeared, teeth flashing through a serpentine smile.
“You’re going to be a delight,” she purred, seizing the back of his head. “Your brother was incredibly dull, butyou…” She twisted her fist in his hair, yanking his neck back so her glacial eyes could bore into him. Dissecting piece by piece. “I’ve heard so many fascinating things,” she murmured, her voice a velvet razor. “I can’t wait to discover what makes youtick.”
Releasing him, the female flicked her wrist. The rending closed in like a tightening noose, jerking Lykor to his feet.
Gliding around him, the elf skimmed her palms over his tunic, a slow and deliberate sweep—a dominating performance. Essence spiraled around them, wisps of magic landing on his skin, slithering like vipers savoring their prey.
