It strikes the witch across the face, cutting from her forehead across her nose to her cheek.
She screams.
"You bitch!" She claps a hand to her face. Blood runs between her fingers. "You scarred me!"
She's already trying to heal it, magic flowing from her hands. But the wound doesn't close or even slow its bleeding.
"What—" She stares at the blood in disbelief.
Svenn lands and sets me down gently. He's halfway between forms now. His torso and face are his again, but his lower half remains the creature's.
"My blade is dwarven made and cursed," I rasp out. "You can't heal what it cuts."
It's a lie. The dwarven blade is just steel and it's already cleansed. The wound isn't healing because of her shock. But she doesn't know that.
The witch's face contorts with fury. "I'll kill you for this—"
Svenn sets me down gently. Then he steps between us.
The witch looks at him, at me, and her expression shifts. "This isn't over. He is mine."
She raises her hands, speaking more of those horrible words. The ground beneath her begins to crack and split.
The earth buckles and heaves. Cracks spread across the melted cobblestones. Steam hisses up from the gaps, carrying the smell of sulfur and rot. Something is coming up from below.
I try to stand but my legs still won't hold me. Svenn reaches for me and even with those massive claws, his touch is gentle as he helps me up. He positions himself between me and the crack. His shoulders are tense, ready.
Whatever she's summoning, it's big. The ground shakes with its approach.
My breath stutters in my lungs. I know this feeling. I’ve felt it before in Balthazar’s castle.
The witch has openeda portal to the seventh gates of Hel.
Part IV
Part IV The Prince of Ruin
23
Chapter 22 Svenn
I wake to the stench of blood and ash. Something wet and rough drags across my face.
The wet sensation comes again, insistent, accompanied by a whimpering sound.
Coral.
Her massive head hovers above mine. The wyvern's tongue flicks out, licking my cheek again.
"I'm awake," I rasp. My throat feels like I've swallowed desert sand. "I'm fine."
But Coral is not. Now that my vision is clearing, I can see the damage she took. One of her wings is torn. The membrane is shredded with arrow holes. Deep gashes run along her scales and there's fear in her golden eyes. She makes that sound again, a distressed keen that resonates in her chest.
"What's wrong?" I ask her.
Coral backs away from me. Her movements are stiff and pained. She swings her head toward something I can't see yet.
I try to sit up. My muscles scream in protest. Every fiber of my being aches with the agony that comes after losing control. I try to remember but the memories won't come. There's onlydarkness where the battle should be. The last thing I recall is a crack in the ground that split wider and wider.
