“Larkin,” I cry.
I see him blink slowly as he snaps back into his body.
From the shadows, a figure moves toward Larkin so quickly my eyes can barely register it. The towering figure tackles the creature and the talon just misses Larkin’s head and instead strikes his left arm.
Cyrus Pierce fights the resurrected, driving his sword into the creature’s throat. I glance in all directions, watching concealed Wielders rush down all alleyways, like a deadly curse to their enemies. I hear footsteps in the distance, and relief floods me—the rebels. I slash down the creature before me and sprint toward Larkin, who clutches his arm in pain.
Blood pours from the back of his arm, yet he’s alive.
He will survive this. The creature he knows still stands before him, stalking closer with every passing second. I reach Larkin and position myself between the creature and his injured body.
“I’m so sorry,” he winces.
“It’s okay.” I throw a look over my shoulder.
He doesn’t respond.
“I have to kill this creature,” I say, focusing back on the threat. “Alright?”
Silence.
It crawls closer, and I widen my stance, gripping both axes so tightly my knuckles turn white. I glance past the creature and see Silas and Oak relentlessly fighting, steadily reducing the number of creatures surrounding us. Cyrus stands and whistles into the night sky. Rebels fill the alleyways, taking down creatures one by one. They fight as one—a united force that runs deep and true. We need them for what’s coming, and I can only pray that Cyrus didn’t settle any debts by saving Larkin’s life.
“Larkin,” I respond again. “It has to die.”
He staggers forward, grimacing from the movement, and steps in between me and the creature.
“Let me do it.”
He steps forward, and I extend my hand, offering him one of my golden axes. His gaze finds mine, and determination and sadness settle behind his dark eyes.
The creature growls and lowers its head, preparing to lunge. Within a second, Larkin moves forward and they collide. Screams from the beast rattle my ears as I watch in awe and terror.
Larkin slices the blade across the creature’s chest, stumbling backward, before driving it straight into the creature’s thick neck. The creature pauses, and death paints its horrific face. It thuds to the ground, and the axe crashes along with it. Larkin’s chest heaves, and I race to his side, wrapping my arms around his waist.
“Can you keep moving?” I ask.
He nods.
I lean down, grab my axe, and push us forward away from the chaos in time for Silas and Oak to finish off their creatures. Thearea around us is a pool of blood, bodies lining every available space.
“Are you two alright?” Silas asks, wiping the blood from his forehead.
“His arm is bad,” I respond. “He’ll be okay if we can get him to the house.”
Silas looks ahead. “We need to hurry.”
“What about Cyrus and the rebels?” I ask.
“They will be perfectly fine.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely,” Silas replies.
I keep a tight grip around Larkin, barely able to pull his large body forward, but our steps begin again as we head down the last alleyway toward the open space of the outskirts of the Andorwood. Our steps become soundless on the soft blades of grass as we cross the last street.
“We need to be fast but aware,” Silas shouts over his shoulder. “Oak, get behind Briar and Larkin.”
