A flash of white around six-hundred feet to his right caught his eye. Pounding over broken bodies and rubble, was Mykonos. He followed the mountain lion’s line of sight to a collapsed body laying against a slaindaimon’s wing.Crimson streaked through white hair and from the center of the body’s battle shirt, the leather torn, a thick arrow had pierced fully through.
No.
No. No. NO!
He took off in the same direction as Mykonos, the creature’s thick white fur stained across her gut with similar sanguine marks as her human. She slowed the closer she got to her human and it only made Dimitris move faster. Bones broke beneath his feet and several times he almost slid out on pools of venom and blood, but nothing could stop him.
One of thedaimonsshot in front of him, swooping down from the heavens with its red and black leathery wings blocking out what little light still shone from the sky. Its claws latched onto his arm, threatening to tear flesh from bone as it dragged him into the air. A burning sensation so severe it felt as if his very soul was on fire radiated from where the claws had dug in. The creature began to flap harder, whipping him side to side. With his free hand, Dimitris struggled to reach the sword on his back. He was a rat in a hawk’s claw, no hope for escape—except hehadto escape. He had to get to her.
The wingeddaimonlet out a piercing howl, slowing its speed for just a moment, but a moment was all Dimitris needed. He swung his body, using the creature’s own momentum to wrap himself around its leg. With all the strength he had left, Dimitris thrusted the sword into the beast’s side. Again it let out a howl as black oil seeped out from its wound. It released its hold on him just enough that Dimitris was able to push off, falling to the ground below.
Crack. They had not lifted far from the rocky battlefield below, but it was enough that one of his legs shattered on impact. Itwould heal eventually—pain from his injuries was fleeting. What was not fleeting is the guilt Dimitris would feel if he could not get to Thalia’s body before anotherdaimongot there first and ripped her to shreds.
He knew what he had to do.
Using his sword as a crutch, Dimitris hoisted himself up and began to hobble the final distance toward her. Bones of his fellow soldiers cracked beneath him as he attempted to avoid slipping on the mix of crimson and onyx blood.
So many had fallen.
So many had burned.
The Skiathans were some of the most formidable opponents, but what was harnessed skill and dedication whendaimonsthe size of small ships roamed the skies, picking up men and women alike and tossing them to the ground? Mistakenly, Dimitris glanced down at the bodies surrounding him, recognizing too many of their faces.
Friends had fallen.
Friends had burned.
But there was no time to mourn them—not yet.
With hurried hobbles, Dimitris took his last steps toward the seer, blocking out the screams and howls of creatures around them. Collapsing on the ground next to Thalia’s still body, Dimitris reached out a shaking hand, pressing two fingers against the side of Thalia’s neck. A threaded pulse vibrated against his fingers, barely there at all.
“Please,” he whispered, voice strained and crackling. “Not now—not when we’ve only just begun. Come back to me, Thalia.Come back.”
Time slowed and yet even then, Thalia’s eyes did not flutter, her body did not stir, nor the mountain lion that lay with its head on her feet. Silent tears began to slide down Dimitris’s cheeks, smearing the blood, dirt, and venom that had caked his skin.
There was only one way to save her now—save them both. Dimitris had become accustomed to the white creature that lay over Thalia’s feet, had learned to love Mykonos’s company.
He would not let them die. Either of them.
Not today.
Not if he still had one trick up his sleeve, even if it was forbidden. Consent was needed for the ritual Dimitris would need to perform—consent or the Fates, and he could only pray that he had the latter on his side. Picking up the dagger that lay beside Thalia, Dimitris closed his eyes, letting the memories of their time together fill him, remembering the ancient words he would need to utter to complete the task at hand. When he opened his eyes, the blade began to glow. Lavender and navy threads wove up the bronze, braiding together.
That sneaky bastard knew. Dimitris thanked the gods for Cal and his ability to see things others could not…for giving Thalia such a priceless blade.
Slipping his arms under Thalia’s, Dimitris pulled her closer to him so that her head lay back against his chest. Her arms flopped to the side, lifeless, and barely any breath made its way out past her lips. He would only have moments now—if even that. Slicing his hand across the glowing blade, blood began to pour from the wound.
“I’m going to need you to drink, love.” Dimitris pressed his palm to her lips, begging the gods that just a little of his blood trickledbetween her lips. Pulling his hand back, a crimson print stained over her mouth.
It would cost him his life, but he didn’t care.
Please, please, please,he repeated over and over in his head.Come back to me, psychí mou. Come back to me.A war horn sounded in the distance and the world around them grew thick with fog and smoke. As Dimitris entered the dreamless sleep of thedesmós, he could have sworn he saw Mykonos’s ear twitch.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Dimitris
“If you do not open your eyes, I will skin you alive and kill you myself!” a firm voice screamed through the sounds of battle, high-pitched and straining, rousing Dimitris from his slumber with a start.
