This was no regular army. An endless stream of shadows was being formed somehow from within the cavern. The only way to end this was to close it off.
“We have to stop them at their source,” Daimon said sharply over the wind. “The wyverns are too shaken by the Furies’ shadows.So”—he swallowed thickly, trying to hide his concern—“we’ll go in without them.”
Silence reigned for a brief moment as the fleet processed his words. Riders without their wyverns were like a sword with no hilt. Only the most desperate of situations would call for such an action.
Then the group slowly signaled their agreement. Ranick tapped his fist over his chest, Elias gave a grim smile, and Brielle nodded with a determined gleam in her eye.
“For Keir,” Brielle vowed.
Evelina squeezed Daimon’s hand where it was still clasped around her waist. “Tell us what to do and we’ll do it.”
Daimon’s eyes flickered in the direction of the cavern. All they had to do was follow the riverbank up to it.
It would be a simple task, if not for the power of the shadows strengthening around his Essence and the growing tide of Furies blocking their path.
Nonetheless, he set his jaw and raised his chin. “We descend and send our wyverns back into the sky to where they aren’t affected by the darkness so they can patrol the other side. Then we go on foot and make our way to the central cave. If we can collapse it, we should be able to stop new rebels from coming out.”
The fleet shouted, “Yes, Commander!”
Their wyverns landed them in a small opening, the Riders hopping off before they even fully touched the ground. Daimon patted Zephyr on the neck, giving her one last fleeting look as she led the others back into the sky.
Bodies blurred past at a blinding speed. Daimon kept Evelina close enough that he could still feel her. If he could touch her, his eyes could be elsewhere. He needed to know she was safe so he could breathe—so he could think enough to get them out of this alive.
Ranick, Elias, and Brielle surrounded Daimon and Evelina in a tight-knit circle. They moved through the chaos as swiftly asthey could. Daimon only diverted his attention to send a shadow toward any soldier in need, as the others did with their fire. He could still feel the chains of dark magic tampering with his magic, keeping it at half-strength.
He was so proud of how brave Evelina was being; he could feel her shielding the group in a staccato rhythm. Instead of a constant shield, she flung it up to cover them—or someone nearby—when it was absolutely needed. She was being smart, as tactical as any soldier.
The arrows wreaking havoc on the ground stilled and disintegrated in the golden haze around them, though they still kept what little control they had on their Essence at the ready in case Evelina’s shield slipped.
A Fury stepped into their path, a crazed look in his eye. Blood from fatal wounds along his neck seeped into his tunic.
He looked more beast than man.
The Fury’s lips didn’t form words, just mangled sounds as he screamed. He charged them so quickly that Daimon barely had time to react. Just as Daimon’s shadows reached out for the Fury, he disappeared. His flesh tore apart into a million pieces, his face cracking and splintering until there was nothing left.
Evelina.
He gritted his teeth, having no choice but to continue. But still, he leaned in close enough for Evelina to hear as he said, “You’re doing incredible. Stay strong and listen to your Essence. If it’s telling you to take a break, then take a break.”
She didn’t respond, her eyes wildly searching the area they were running through for anyone who needed help.
The path before them was carnage, a body to jump over every few steps. The rebels were gaining on their ground soldiers. It wasn’t until they were deeper into the fighting that Daimon realized why it was such a bloodbath.
The shadows weren’t only affecting the wyverns. They were corrupting the soldiers too.
He watched in horror as his own soldiers started to turnagainst one another, their flames or shadows aimed at their brothers. Soldiers who had been fighting together for years—some longer—were killingeach other—as if they hadn’t shared ale, watch rotations, or broth around a fire.
“They’re using our own men against us,” Brielle gasped.
His stomach sank, dread filling him.
“Their eyes!” Ranick shouted, breathless as they kept their pace. The soldiers’ eyes were pitch-black, inky veins starting to spread from their eyes and onto the rest of their faces.
Evelina slammed to a halt, causing the others to follow suit. Daimon turned to her, panic gripping him as he saw her face as pale as a ghost.
“Eve?” he asked, examining her from head to toe.
She slowly turned to him, her eyes wide and voice wobbling as she said, “Moros is here.”
