I looked down at Marcèllian whose body lay several wing beats away. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Then his body twitched, contorting abnormally. His wings jerked, flapping with urgency, though his body didn’t move.
Suddenly Marcèllian stilled, his head bowed.
I remained rooted. Fear would never grip me in the presence of the Fallen King again. Not after what Marcèllian did to my islanders. My home. My wife. I watched him, waiting for any sudden movement.
Marcèllian turned his head with a slowness that made the hairs on my arms stand up. He angled his head to the side before snapping his head to look at me. A disturbing smile stretched across Marcèllian’s face. The smile that was the first thing I saw when I awoke in a cell surrounded by fire, and the last when my body gave in beneath beatings and bludgeoning, for five centuries.Thiswas why the Infinite had given me explicit instructions to kill them all. Marcèllian was now reprobate, sharing himself willfully with the Fallen. His shell of a body was just a host for the Fallen King.
“Mi Roi...”
“Not yet, Obi. Stay put.”
“Slave,” Zemshaza spoke freely through Marcèllian’s mouth. “How I have missed this island. How I long for Mortevain to bemine.” The Fallen brushed the ground with Marcèllian’s hands. “Oh, how good it will be to walk freely on Hallowed soil, before the waters of your oceans turn to blood, and your islands become graves.”
“Keep dreaming. You’llneverbe given Mortevain,” I spoke cooly, refusing to be unnerved. “Not over my dead body, Zemshaza.”
The Fallen King chuckled.
“Over yourdeadbody. What a lovely choice of words.”
Zemshaza jerked Marcèllian’s body, contorting it into a crawl.
Then Marcèllian’s body rushed me at a speed that was unnatural.
I leapt out of the way, but it was too late.
Zemshaza lunged for me, grabbing my ankle. He jerked me by my boots as if I weighed no heavier than a bag of feathers. Zemshaza drug me to the ground in one move. I wheezed, using my wings as a shield. Marcèllian’s eyes glowed. His fingers lengthened into sharpened claws. Possessed by Zemshaza, Marcèllian slashed across my chest with his claws, drawing blood. Golden ichor dripped down my leathers. I wrenched away from the Fallen, shooting into the air. Hovered above Marcèllian’s body, wasting no time. I drew on soulsandblackfire.
When Zemshaza attacked again, I was ready.
The possessed angel leapt from the ground. He bared his teeth, seething and mouth foaming. His eyes were wild. When he neared, I spun, throwing bolts of souls engulfed in sable flame at his body. Every single blow landed true. When blackfire collided into Marcèllian’s skin, Zemshaza roared. The sound of a thousand raging hèlsborn erupted into the air, rattling my ears.It was a horrifying sound. Fallen Angels couldn’t take holy fire. ButAshirisfire was their eternal ruin.
Zemshaza contorted again, distorting Marcèllian’s body.
“I will remind you why you were my slave for half a millennia. You will suffer, Slave. And so will thatthingyou call a wingmate. I will ruin her, and I will make you watch.”
Righteous fury set my blood on fire.
I saw crimson at the thought of Zemshaza hurting Nahomie.
“Zemshaza,” I snarled. “I amfearless. Therefore, I am powerful. This twinight you will bow like a buckling beneath the weight of my wrath.”
Zemshaza lunged. Black swirls seeped out of his body. I pulled on Nahomie’s blackfire, silhouetting my body with her flame as a shield. Limb Bending ethèr crushed into my side. While the blast burned, my limbs remained intact.
“Pathetic,” I spat. “You have to possess and control totryand access a Hallowed world. But even if this roach-eating piece of rot let you have his body, you willneveraccess our realm. Even if he bled across the entire island as a bastard sacrifice, you couldneverenter Hallowed land, ever again.”
The sound that left Marcèllian’s throat was horrific enough to make me shudder. Zemshaza contorted Marcèllian’s body until he became a monstrosity that mystified even me.
Then he began chanting.
Without warning, the twinkling starlight above was shrouded by a cover of black. A small army of ashbats, winged monsters with fanged teeth and taloned claws, descended on Beauradèl Manor.
I held my ground. If my victory would be won by me fighting my way out, then so be it. I breathed in, calming my hearts in front of the wave of terror.
This would be a bloodbath.
And I would not surrender.
As ashbats descended, another army broke into the courtyard. A snarling mass of bloodhounds raced towards me in great strides, teeth bared so they could have their pound of flesh.
