My dark cloud slunk back into me, and a sharp, searing agony tore through my gut. I convulsed, barely having any time to double over before thick, black tar spewed from my lips, burning as it left me.
The taste of decay and rot, of dead dark magic, filled my mouth.
A hand pressed firmly against my back as Reed whispered in my ear, “I’ve got you.” His other hand rested lightly against my shoulder.
His warmth was the only thing keeping me from collapsing.
I spat the last remnants of the darkness onto the sand, my stomach twisting painfully.
The demon’s soul had barely replenished my reserves.
“I’ll end this now.” Skel moved in front of me and inhaled sharply, his breath hitching as he tapped into the well of magic inside him.
The air around us vibrated, thickening with his magic. It made my skin prickle. The temperature seemed to drop, a cold weight pressing against my chest as Skel’s magic swelled.
A pulse of raw terror exploded outward, rippling like a shockwave.
It crashed into the cultists before the supernatural agents could even draw their weapons. The moment it reached them, their bodies went rigid, eyes blown wide with horror.
Whimpers and shuddering breaths filled the air before their knees buckled beneath them. Some fell to the sand, clawing at their own faces, shoving their own claws through their eyes and into their brains as if trying to rip away whatever nightmare Skel had inflicted upon them. Others stumbled back, legs trembling, before finally dropping onto the cursed sand. Their lips moved in silent, desperate prayers—prayers to the Veil, or perhaps pleas to be forgiven by the Fates.
Their small cries and pleading turned to full-blown screams just a few seconds later.
One cultist let out a ragged, earth-shattering shriek. His hands fumbled for a weapon on his side—only to turn it upon himself. The blade sank into his flesh with a sickening squelch, crimson spilling over his robes.
More followed.
Steel glinted in the weak sunlight before slicing through skin and muscle, blood staining the sand like ink seeping into parchment. The scent of copper filled the air, heavy and thick, mingling with the briny sea breeze and the lingering stench of dead dark magic.
The cultist’s bodies collapsed one by one, lifeless.
Nobody else had to fight.
Skel’s overwhelming fear surged through our bond. It wasn’t his power that unsettled him—it was the loss of control he thought he’d succumb to.
But hewasin control.
His magic receded easily, leaving behind a familiar hollow exhaustion that I was also feeling.
“Fuck.” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Reed’s firm grip kept me steady as I straightened. My stomach still churned from discarding the dark magic I’d killed, but I pushed it aside and reached out through Skel and I’s bond, sending warmth, love—anything to counter the feeling in his soul.
I knew he was afraid of losing control the same way he had when he’d driven those villagers to suicide, but this was different. His magic targeted demons we needed to kill, and he didn’t lose control. He’d done a great job.
The suffocating weight of his fear eased off as he felt my reassurance.
Jesper stared at Skel, his mouth slightly ajar.
The agents around him mirrored his expression—some in awe, others in pure shock and quaking fear.
“Holy shit,” one agent muttered, his voice shaky.
“That was?—”
“Terrifying,” April croaked, her eyes darting between Skel and the rest of us. A shadow of unease flickered across her face. “I’ve never even heard of a fear demon doing something like that.”
“There’s a reason for that.” Dex stepped forward and positioned himself between Skel and the agents. His shadows slithered around him in warning.
