Every person in the square froze and rotated to face me. Strings lanced through their limbs, controlling their movements. An invisible puppeteer loomed in the heavens, wresting control of their minds.
Me.
Slowly, every person locked eyes with me. Women, men. Two children. Seth wavered, noticing what was happening, and took a glaive to the side, knocking him to the road.
One by one, the puppetted people drew knives from their belts—knives that hadn’t been there a moment before—and pressed them to their throats.
Blood pooled from their necks and streamed down their chests. They all gazed at me, accusingly.
No, no, no. I’d promised myself I’d never be that man again.
Falling backward, I landed hard on the road. Beads of sweat dripped down my brow.
This is who I was. Soon, everyone would know.
Percy had already dropped to a knee. He gripped his arm, knuckles white. A grave loomed behind him, drowning him in its shadow.
Grabbing his side, Seth crawled away from the Hades Knight. Lord Icelus slit Aethra’s throat, and she fell to the ground.
The sight of her lifeless eyes was one I’d never forget.
Death surrounded us. A shallow river of blood streamed down the road. The Hades Knight lifted his glaive, prepared to bring it down on Seth’s chest.
“No,” Percy gasped, dropping his arm and throwing his hand forward.
Horrible chords sang through the air as Percy’s spell collidedwith Icelus’. The song of fear, and the song of death.
I’d heard one of Percy’s dirges—the song he’d written for those lost at Red Bluff outpost. Most expected dirges to be mournful, wailing grief. His music had been happy, joyful. A celebration of their beautiful town and the lives they’d led.
It had faded into sorrow, bidding them farewell.
This song was nothing like it. Menacing drum beats pounded in my ears—a countdown, a threat.
Icelus thought himself immortal. Death was coming for him, nonetheless.
Eyes bulging in terror, Icelus staggered back as Percy’s spell pierced his. The nightmarish illusions faded.
Gasping, I looked up. No lifeless puppets stared at me; they ran in various directions, grabbing the hands of children and leading them away. Aethra was alive, clutched in Icelus’ grasp.
Snarling, Seth drew a bloody lance from the gash on his side and swept the Hades Knight’s feet out from under him. Seth tossed the lance, and it shattered into a dozen jagged knives that slammed into the knight, severing his weak spots.
Stepping over his foe, Seth glanced at the blade pressed to Aethra’s throat. “Do it,” he growled. “Slit her throat.”
What? Rocketing to my feet, I rushed toward him.
Surprised by the ferocity in Seth’s tone, Icelus wavered. The blade against Aethra’s throat shook, cutting a shallow line above her collarbone. Blood seeped from the wound.
It was all Seth needed.
Jagged blades rose from the scrape, framing Aethra’s head like a crimson crown. They pierced through Icelus’ arm and dug into his chest. Dropping his blade, Icelus staggered back.
The blades fell from Aethra’s neck and returned to Seth, swirling around him as he bore down on Icelus.
Darting behind him, I dropped to my knees beside Aethra.
Clarity shone in her eyes when I touched her. Eyes widening, she glanced back at Seth as I fumbled with her bonds, trying to pull them off with only one hand.
The whirling blades burst away from Seth, digging into Icelus’ sleeves and cloak, dragging him to the ground and pinning him in place.
