“Use that ice power of yours to distract it. I have an idea,” Finnick says with a grin, his voice full of unbridled excitement I know all too well. He’s up to one of his little games, but this isn’t a prank he can pull. This is a life-and-death battle.
“Finnick, you can’t—” The words catch in my throat as he vanishes in a blur of green, his form twisting away so fast that he becomes nothing more than a streak of color before disappearing completely.
“Fuck this,” I snarl, snapping my focus back to the Nephilim. It’s closing in, only a few yards away now, his massive form bearing down on me.
Power surges through my veins, crackling beneath my skin with icy vengeance. I slam my fist into the damp earth, and instantly, a wave of blue mist erupts outward, spreading through the air like a living force. The wet grass beneath us crystallizes with frost, ice shooting outward in jagged tendrils until it reaches the Nephilim’s feet.
The moment it steps forward, its balance wavers. Its massive frame teeters; then, with a deafening crash, it slams to the ground, shaking the earth. The rain aroundit turns into jagged, sharp icicles, penetrating its body. The creature screams in pain, but it doesn’t stop. No, these creatures don’t let pain slow them down much, and it races toward me at an alarming speed.
But someone else is faster.
Finnick appears from seemingly nowhere, with the damn toothpick of a sword in his hands. He lets out a battle cry before shooting down and driving his sword into the soulless eye of the Nephilim with a sickening, wet sound. A terrible howl of pain leaves the Nephilim, but Finnick doesn’t seem to be done. He whistles, and as if waiting for his signal, the people of the forest descend upon him. Centaurs, nymphs, and goblins break through the trees, ready to defend their home.
A troll brings down a club hard upon the Nephilim’s head, followed by four other trolls doing the same. The nymphs bend the tree limbs to their will, as strong vines and roots wrap around the Nephilim. Centaurs move in for the kill, using their mighty hooves to stomp through the Nephilim’s chest until the ground is stained with a dark, almost black goo that is blood. A putrid odor settles in the air, and I have to cover my nose to keep from gagging.
Finnick flutters over to me, a smug smile on his face as he lands on the bridge of my nose. “You can say it.”
“Say what?” My voice comes out gruff, trying to ignore the horrid smell.
“Thank you, Finnick. You’re the best, Finnick. You are so much more brilliant than your brother, Finnick.” He gives me a cocky grin before slapping my forehead. “You’re quite welcome, my favorite king.”
Despite the chaos happening around us, I can’t help but smirk and roll my eyes at his grand display. “I suppose you did alright,” I tease, laughing when he glares at me. “How did you gather the people of the forest?”
“Because they’re my friends. This is their home too, and they are just as mad that these vile creatures are ruining it.” Finnick flies to my shoulder, perching atop me. “I think they have this one covered; we should?—”
A loud, blood-curdling scream pierces the air, reverberating through the trees and turning my blood cold. Even Finnick stiffens and jolts up. “What was that?” He turns in a slow circle.
The better question would bewhowas that? The scream sounded feminine—a terrified female at that. She screams again, only this time I hear sobs.
Instinct takes over, and I head toward the sound. Battle rages around me. Another dead Nephilim lies beheaded on the ground, with another on its knees, fighting a fleet of earth fae. Is Niko with them? I want to get back to my mate’s side, but the screaming woman pulls me like an irresistible siren in trouble. I’m vaguely aware of Finnick whistling for the people of the forest, but I don’t stop to look back and see if they heard him.
The dense forest stretches before me, its towering pines and willows swaying under the weight of the biting wind. My breath curls in the air, misting before vanishing entirely. The underbrush crackles beneath my boots as I push forward, weaving between gnarled roots and frost-dusted ferns from the rapidly dropping temperature.
Then, I reach my first obstacle. A wide pond, its dark waters rippling under the dim light shining through the trees. It hasn’t frozen over yet, but that’s an easy fix…if I were in top form. My magic is depleted due to lack of food, so there’s only one way through. Testing the water with a cautious step, I find it’s shallow and propel myself forward. Each step is light and swift as I sprint across. My boots skim the ice without faltering, and within moments, I reach the opposite bank, only wet from the knees down. The cold doesn’t bother me, though.
Pushing through a thicket of twisted branches, I emerge into a small clearing. My breath steadies, my senses sharpening as I scan my surroundings. This part of the forest is eerily quiet, the silence pressing in around me. Then, my gaze locks onto a figure standing a few feet away.
A woman.
She’s draped in unfamiliar clothing, and loose strands of hair have escaped her bun, spilling free and sticking out in every direction. In her hands, she clutches something. My mind scrambles to make sense of it. A weapon? A relic? No… it’s a pan.
A damn pan.
I blink, my pulse still hammering from the run. “Seriously?”
I don’t have time to ponder why this woman thought to bring cookware to a battle because I see the reason for her screams. A rogue Nephilim approaches her, bridging the distance between them at a deadly speed. There’s no way I’ll be able to reach her in time, and although my body is fatigued and I shouldn’t be wasting my magic, Isend shards of ice at the creature. It hits the Nephilim just before he can grab hold of the woman. It was close.
Too damn close.
Her head jerks back, and she locks gazes with me. Then her hazel eyes cross as she sways on her feet before crumbling to the ground. Passed out. Dead weight. Just what I fucking need.
Ignoring her for now, I direct more of my magic at the angry Nephilim with its sights on me now. Blood oozes from the wounds my ice shards sliced through it—doesn’t stop it though, only slows it. I’m keenly aware I’m alone out here, waiting for Finnick to pull the people of the forest away from the last fallen Nephilim to help take down this one.
But until then, I’m on my own.
Just as darkness flashes from the Nephilim’s hand, I dodge the power ball, only barely. The intensity and power of the magic still rock me. Getting blasted with that power would be a death sentence.
I pivot to the side and charge the creature. My sword slashes across the Nephilim’s leg, and it howls in a mixture of pain and anger. But it effectively keeps it away from the woman still passed out on the ground.
