She cried out as crimson blotched her pants.
Finnian aimed his finger at the four other executioners that zoomed past Shivani for him.
The spell was instant, stopping them in their tracks.
They each twisted their heads in Shivani’s direction with a predatory glint glazed in their eyes, watching her squirm and trying to rip her legs free from the magical pikes that fastened her in place.
One by one, they each turned and stalked towards her.
She stiffened and lifted her head.
A sick satisfaction swelled in Finnian as he watched the panic consume her—the subtle parting of her lips, her movements turning frantic and clumsy, pushing and pulling her limbs.
“Seizehim!” she shouted, an audible tremble underneath the boldness of her tone. Hands wrapped around the crook of her knee, she tugged, flinging her gaze from her trapped leg to the executioners closing in on her. “I saidseize him!”
An executioner locked onto her arm. Another onto her neck. The others encircled around her, like wolves waiting for their turn. Her shrieks filled the corridor in a deep, cavernous echo.
Finnian hurried past them and turned the corner. The stone beneath his feet thundered, and the surrounding walls flickered.
He skidded to a stop seconds before smashing into a wall that hadn’t been there earlier, blinking and examining his new surroundings.
To his left was a narrow staircase. Before the walls could shift again, he jogged down the steps, dragging his fingers along the grout of the stone to feel for the moss. It didn’t matter if Moros rearranged itself a hundred times. The moss would show itself and lead the way.
Finnian emerged from the top of the stairs. The heat in the air swelled as he came onto the compounded floor circling the inferno. He barely had enough time to register the eldritch mask appearing before him.
Instinct had his arms ripping up to catch the executioner’s talons before it could bury them into his chest. He gripped its wrist and slung it into the inferno. Its wings expanded from its back, black and leathered. With a few powerful slaps, the executioner stunted its speed and avoided a fiery death.
Finnian ducked before another executioner could grip his neck. He speared his fingers through another’s chest cavity, shuddering at the lack of bones in the executioner’s rib cage. It choked on a wail as Finnian lurched his hand back. Rotted, berry-blue blood stained his fingers.
He spun and swerved, cocking his elbow back to land a hit on one’s mask. The solid plate cracked, and the executioner bared its teeth, snapping for Finnian’s forearm.
There were too many. He took one out for two to fabricate in its place.
Doubt crept into his mind. What in the world had convinced him he could successfully fight off hundreds of executioners?
In between blows, his eyes searched for a way to escape.
He squeezed the rubbery forearm in his grip, crushing muscle and blood, and kicked the executioner back by its gut. The force sent it barreling, taking out those in its path. It gave Finnian the time he needed to fixate on an open entrance a few yards to the right.
He did a double take at the object sprouted on the threshold.
Blush petals layered beautifully into a fat blossom. A singular peony.
His breath hitched.
Father.
Peonies were his father’s favorite.
A set of talons dug into the top of his shoulders. Another set shredded deep inside of his abdomen. The pull of organs shoved bile up his throat. He nearly bit the tip of his tongue off as his teeth clenched.
He stumbled backwards, his tailbone meeting something sturdy.
A strong current of intense heat seared his backside.
The railing of the inferno, contained in its invisible sphere. Would it fight back if he dipped his hands into its power? It had to have a purpose.
A set of jaws locked around Finnian’s bicep. He growled through the excruciating tide of pain cresting up his shoulder and into his neck, as if he were caught inside a meat tenderizer.
