"Disappointing," the Devourer said.
Hidden panels exploded open along the throne room walls. Dozens of soldiers poured through.
Daemon’s shadows rose to meet the Devourer’s.
"Engaging!" Zephyr’s first arrow took a soldier through the throat. His second, third, and fourth found their marks in the chests of the mages standing in the back.
Kane roared forward, hammer sweeping in arcs that shattered armor and bone. Kael cut down those thrown out of position by Kane’s blows.
Daemon’s blade met the sword of the First King.
I focused on the throne.
The Devourer turned.
"You refuse salvation," he whispered. "Then experience damnation."
Unlike any magic user in our world, the Devourer’s attack was effortless. No movement was necessary for him to turn my extended hand pitch black. Magic rolled off the ancient entity like smoke off fire.
My hand wasn’t bruised. The flesh and bone began to decay, moisture vanishing in seconds. Then I saw it spreading past the wrist.
I cut off my hand with my blade.
The scream tore out of me.
"Seris!" Daemon disengaged from the First King. His shadow tendrils latched onto the stump, sealing it before the blood loss could kill me.
I collapsed. My vision whited out. The throne room floor kissed my cheek, cold and indifferent.
Through the haze, I saw it happen.
Daemon took a step toward me, but the First King’s blow stopped him in his tracks.
Daemon’s blade met it. The weapons locked, grinding against each other. Daemon dropped one of his daggers and held the First King’s blade back with one hand.
The King’s sword descended and cut into Daemon’s collarbone.
Panic shot through me, forcing my vision to steady.
Before I could attempt to help, Daemon’s free hand struck the chest of the reanimated monarch.
His hand, reinforced with shadows, emerged from the king's back, holding something wet and vital. The King’s arm folded and his grip of the sword loosened. He dropped to his knees in front of Daemon. Then, he collapsed face flat on the stone. Whatever magic had sustained it guttered like a candle in the wind.
Daemon turned on Aeron, clutching onto his left shoulder, but eyes filled with determination and fury. He dropped his blade and his shadows grew into a violent storm. His magic filled the throne room, drowning out every noise.
His shadows weren’t tendrils anymore. They had taken the shape of daggers, hundreds of them, floating around him, all pointed at the Devourer.
He struck.
The shadows shot across the throne room at incredible speed. A shockwave tore through the castle as Daemon attacked.
For one heartbeat, I thought we had won. Not even Lyralei would have survived something like that.
But the Devourer was more powerful than anything that existed in this realm.
The shadows stopped an inch from King Aeron’s body, as if they had struck an invisible wall.
The impact sent another shockwave through the throne room.
