The man in front of her wheezed, his breath coming out in short spurts. She needed to get him out of here. Now. She scooped what remained of the skin-mending salve and lathered it onto his neck. He was still bleeding, but the flow slowed tremendously.
She looked up again, desperately searching for a place to hide him. The smoke started to dissipate enough for her to see.
The villagers weren’t winning their charge. These rebels were lethal. Ruthless.
She had heard the stories of how they fought with strange tactics, but these hadshadows,a sickening darkness pulsing from them. Not typical Nox-wielded shadows, but ones black as night and crackling with sparks of light. They had a stench that clung to them, something she could only describe as decay. They came in unrelenting waves at the villagers, ripping them to shreds before Evelina’s eyes.
It was her first time coming face to face with this level of destruction from ground level. Never had she heard of the rebels using shadows like these.
The Aegis patrolling the area sent funnels of fire toward the attackers. There were at least fifteen soldiers she could count through the haze, their movements swift and coordinated. But there were three times the number of rebels, starting a new fire almost as soon as another was put out.
Khaline landed in the middle of the square, her wings clearing more of the smoke and sending the acrid scent of burning flesh away.
Evelina could see the rebels clearly now. They all had the same face as the rebel the storyweaver killed. Weblike black cracks spread across every inch of their exposed skin. She opened her mouth to flag Willow down, but a scream pierced the air from beside her, just to the right of the tavern.
She scrambled to her feet and rounded the corner of the building, where she found three small children huddled against the siding. They were the same little girls who had been playing in the square earlier.
A rebel raised his splintered, black-veined hands, aiming right for the children.
Evelina broke into a sprint toward them, watching in horror as the oldest child—no more than ten years old—stepped infront of the smaller two, a look of sheer determination on her face. Her short, cropped hair was plastered to her head.
Evelina raced for them, fear spurring her faster, but she was still too slow to reach the dark-ridden being in time. The rebel snickered, a sickly crackling of a laugh, as the little girl stood tall, her fists balled tightly, arms out wide in an attempt to shield the other children.
“At least you’ll die brave,” the rebel soldier quipped, his voice garbled and warped.
Evelina screamed.
Thirty-Six
Daimon
Daimon always hadthe feeling of a knife twisting in his stomach when something bad was coming. He’d felt it the night before the attack on the outskirts of Drogheda, pacing his room until Aster had told him to calm down.
So many terrible things were happening during this war that it was impossible to try and decipher why his gut was telling him something bad was about to happen now. There weren’t many Nocturna that had an affinity for shadows as strong as his, but he was fairly certain the shadows were the ones warning him of danger.
These thoughts often kept him awake at night, unable to fall asleep with the number of fae that expected so much from him. But he would smile and pretend he wasn’t scared shitless for the sake of his aerial legion. He had to lead, and a commander couldn’t be afraid. They needed him to be strong for them.
Daimon let out a long breath and fought to remain present at the war table. They had been in here all day. The council had left hours ago, but Keir, Carwyn, and Senna continued to strategize.
Small, whittled pieces of wood had been carved out in different shapes and placed all over the painted map. Some weresoldiers to indicate where they stationed guards, while others were tiny wyverns that were laid down where they planned to have an aerial patrol.
“My men on the eastern front noticed a change in the rebels. The last few encounters, they’ve seemed…different somehow,” Senna mused. “There was a heaviness in their presence, a darkness that’s growing.”
Daimon glanced at Keir. They had felt it too.
“We’ve noticed them using more cursed weapons lately,” Daimon added. “Almost every rebel had one during the attack on Drogheda’s edge.”
Carwyn hummed. “As I’ve said before, we need a weapon. Something to combat this dark magic.”
Keir cleared his throat, cutting his eyes to Daimon. Daimon had specifically asked him to keep Evelina’s shield quiet for a bit. He didn’t want to put extra pressure on her with everything going on, and mostly, he was worried about the implications. What danger it might put her in.
Carwyn looked between the two of them and raised a brow. “Is there something I’m missing?” she asked.
Daimon’s nostrils flared. Although he didn’t want to share it, at this point it’d be negligent as a commander. “Evelina has been able to shield on occasion, a small one that stops weapons from harming her. She learned by accident, but has been able to train it to protect others as well.”
Carwyn tilted her head to the side. “A shield,” she said slowly.
“But it isn’t worth the risk taking a healer, who isn’t trained in battle, to the ground,” he quickly amended, hoping to close the conversation. Carwyn’s eyes narrowed. “Too much expenditure wears her out. We wouldn’t want to leave her in the middle of a battle with emptied Essence.”
