ARRAN
I was made for battlefields. The most powerful terrestrial fae born in millennia. Blessed not just with one of the terrestrial fae gifts, but both. Fauna-gifted with a beast that stirred nightmares across this realm and others. Flora-gifted with the ability to bend nature itself to my will. Kidnapped in my youth. Separated from my family for most of my adulthood. Honed as a weapon with a singular purpose—to kill in service of my kingdom.
The battle axe that had cleaved flesh from bone for three centuries rested heavy in my hand. A single amorite dagger, the only way to bring down the succubus, gripped in my other. Around me, my lieutenants moved their battalions into position, the entirety of the Terrestrial Army moving with decades of honed purpose. The Faeries of the Fen remained in the human realm, along with the human forces Gwen had gathered from Eldermist, the reunited remnants of the Elemental Army, and the Aquarians under General Ache.
Two battles. Two valleys. One foe.
The fighting in Camlann might already be underway. Communication between our two armies was slow without Veyka to jump between realms at will. The succubus in theEffren Valley were trapped here, in the fae bodies they’d invaded. At least once they took a body, they appeared to be anchored to it.
That was our only advantage.
We had superior numbers, but the succubus felt no pain. It would take a dozen fae soldiers to take down one of the creatures. More of the humans. Many soldiers would die today. Thousands. Maybe tens of thousands. That number was dependent on how long it took Veyka to make her way across the valley.
I could not see her, but the thread of our bond was intact. Somewhere below, she and Mya weaved through the foothills, trying to skirt the horde and avoid notice for as long as possible. My role was to keep the succubus engaged from all sides, to give my mate the best chance of reaching the Tower of Myda.
Isolde and the healers had divided themselves between the human realm and Annwyn. In the Effren Valley, they waited behind the strip of sand that belonged to the Gremog. Even the Gremog would not be able to eat every succubus that stumbled into its domain if there were enough of them; but it would protect the healers and the injured for as long as possible, allowing the bulk of our army to focus on the horde itself.
I reached deep inside of myself, to where those golden threads wrapped around my heart and reached out across time and space and realms.I love you. I will see you at nightfall.
By nightfall, this war would be over, one way or another.
Veyka did not respond. The darkness on the other end of the mating bond banked, still simmering but not a fully-formed black mass.
I did not pray. But if there were a time to start, this seemed the moment.
Ancestors, keep her safe.
Accolon… give me your strength on this final battlefield. Nimue, guard my wife, your heir, that she might live to reclaim her soul.
The sun peeked over the eastern peaks of the mountains, bathing the Effren Valley in the first rays of orange-gold daylight. The battle for Annwyn began.
81
CYARA
There was no reason to hold back the harpy. Cyara did not see the signal that Arran gave, but she did not need to. The terrestrial army began to move, and Cyara with it. She had not been assigned to a particular unit or command. There was no controlling the harpy once she broke loose. She was born of pain and fury and she desired only to rain those things down upon anyone and everyone foolish enough to cross her path.
Cyara rose into the air, her wings beating against the cool morning air. Another few seconds and she would not feel the cold. The harpy couldn’t feel such mundane things. She rose and rose and rose, high above the valley and the army that had almost reached the black horde. Lines of efficiently organized terrestrials marched in perfect formation. She watched as the wave of black chaos broke against them, undulating back from the force, then slipping through the cracks. The succubus spread like a virus, streams of black that infected.
There were many soldiers in the army below without amorite piercings. Many without amorite weapons. Still, they marched. Cyara had not been able to sleep, the screams too intense to bear. Hundreds of soldiers turned to succubus in the night,unprotected by amorite, too close to the horde. They’d been slaughtered unilaterally. She’d heard their dying gasps.
Now she would decimate those who’d brought that darkness. The succubus who’d come for her friends and her queen.
She scanned the field, letting her eyes see past the mass of fighting to the individuals within. Three fae warriors held off a succubus who’d taken over a male nearly as large as Arran. Another clawed its way up one of their backs. But a wide-winged bird of prey swooped in and plucked the head from its desiccated body.
A female scream sliced through the air, reaching her above all the others. It took too long for her to locate the source—a red-haired female in dark armor, swinging a morning star with one hand and slicing with a dagger in the other. But she was overwhelmed by the succubus bearing down on her, the other soldiers around her occupied with their own attackers. The female was already bleeding from a gash to her clavicle. She was going to die, there was nothing Cyara could do. She should find another target.
The red-headed female screamed again.
The harpy did not care for reason. She burst from the shell she occupied inside of Cyara, clawing her way to the surface. Cyara felt the tingling burn of her skin changing, thickening into an armor that the succubus’ teeth could not penetrate. Claws sprang from her fingernails, curving and sharpening into talons meant for ripping apart male flesh.
Males. Males killed her sisters. Males destroyed her father.
Males deserved to be punished. They should die.
Die. Die. Die.
Her leathery wings scissored through the air as the harpy dove for her first victim.
