Cursing, I make a grab with my free hand, a yelp falling from my lips as something grips my ankle and yanks, eliminating what was left of my already precarious balance. I fall hard onto my side, the sword flying from my hands, clattering across the stone floor with an ominous echo.
I immediately scramble to my hands and knees, scurrying to where the sword lies helplessly. I see Zion approaching from the corner of my eye, and I scurry faster, making a final last-ditch effort dive toward it.
But I’m too late.
My fingertips just brush the hilt of the sword as it’s yanked from my reach. I hear Zion in my head instructing me to run,insisting I run, andI immediately turn away, coming to my feet, taking off toward the shadows where the demons lurk.
Gemma’s laugh draws my attention back to the throne, the gleeful joy on her face at what she’s about to witness sending my blood boiling.
Already exhausted, I force my tired muscles to keep moving, even as I question the point, given I have no idea how I’m supposed to fight back and win against this newly animated Zion.
I race into the far corner, hoping I can seek some refuge in the darkness, but as soon as I get there, the swarm of demons hiding pushes me back out.
They don’t attempt to hurt me. Even knowing that I’m unarmed, they just keep shoving me back out into the open, offering me up on a platter to be cut down by my own sword.
I manage to dodge the first swing. It bounces off the stone floor, raining sparks, and I barely have time to spin out of the way as he uses that bouncing momentum to swing it back around.
I pause, taking a good look at Zion’s face, dread rolling over me at the complete detachment on his features. His eyes, typically sparking with life, stare back at me, cold and dead.
Some of the fight goes out of me. I stop attempting to run, knowing that’s just going to keep pushing the demons to spin me around into harm's way.
My complete change in demeanor doesn’t give him pause, but it also doesn’t improve his speed, or his aim, and I easily step aside as the blade whizzes by my head.
I continue to slowly move aside, easily dodging the continuous swing of the sword while also realizing that he doesn’t appear to be tiring. I soon find myself pressed back against a wall, my only choice either doubling back the way Iwent or heading up the stairs to where the thrones are. And Gemma.
Since it seems likely that if I move in her direction, she’s going to assist in my impending demise, I turn back the way I came, only to be met by a wall of demons all smiling rather smugly. I curl my lip in disgust.
I turn toward the throne, only to be met by the same scene. Having no other choice, I face forward, prepared to meet him head-on.
He stops in front of me, sword gripped in two hands, and I push off the wall, cocking my head as I say, “Go ahead.”
His pause turns into a stop, and Gemma curses from her throne and then yells, “Do it. Kill her.”
I bristle, any warm feelings I still held for her immediately dissipating. Ignoring her, I inch forward and then cross my arms over my chest as I say snippily, “It probably won’t work anyway.”
Zion cocks his head at me, and then I see his focus shift to Gemma, who says, “Don’t listen to her. Do as you’re told.”
Cued into action, he raises his sword over his head, allowing the tip to fall. He adjusts his grip as he prepares to make an obvious attempt at running me through. My bravado slips, truly trapped, and having to accept whatever happens will happen.
Then, several things happen at once.
Zion pauses with the sword overhead, obviously collecting himself for a death blow. And golden Zion appears, illuminating the otherwise dim room as that golden mass morphs into an arrow, aimed directly at my potential assassin's back. Zion’s torso bows, eyes widening as his entire body tenses, and then he remains suspended like that, frozen in time and space, as all of that gold injected inside him coalesces with an ever-increasing glow until light radiates from within. I press myself back against the wall, my hands coming up, shielding my eyes from the blinding light, and then it all ignites, implodes.
I duck, covering my head with my hands as whatever supernatural implosion is occurring suddenly releases. And then I brace myself, the sound of the blade zinging through the air, just waiting for it to pierce me through.
But that doesn’t happen.
The edge of the sword barely grazes me, and the resounding clang as it connects with the stone floor makes me jump. Slowly, I remove my arms from my head, straightening and turning, my jaw dropping open as I find Zion dropped down on one knee. The sword is impaled several inches into the stone, both his hands still gripping the hilt, with his head bowed. And then there’s the gold. It remains suspended in the air in a free-floating dance with no direction.
I push myself off the wall, brushing the gold aside, frowning as it acts so ambiguously, floating so harmlessly.
Not knowing what else to do, I step directly in front of Zion, needing to see for myself that he’s truly back. “Zion,” I whisper.
For a moment, nothing happens, but then his head drops slightly lower and begins to lift. Relief washes over me as soon as I see that iridescent glint back in his eyes, but this doesn’t stop my slight flinch when he suddenly yanks the sword from the floor. He holds it gingerly by the blade, raising it up to me in offering.
I glance at the sword and back to him, raising an eyebrow, knowing what I need to do but needing a word from him first.
As if he knows, he nods slightly and pushes the sword toward me again as he responds, “Finish it.”
