Page 182 of The Gods Order

Our power intensifies around everyone as we shield their bodies as best we can. I fucking grunt every time a hit of the corruption pouring from the hands of the guard hits a surface.

This will only buy them a little more time.

While simultaneously take time from the two of us.

A spear of corruption splinters against one of my barriers, and the impact rattles down my spine. Another follows. Then three more.

The room erupts into chaos not of mine or my little psycho’s making.

Dark essence crashes against my Boundaries from every direction while steel continues to ring through the chamber. My frantic gaze continues to scan over everyone and everything, making sure all our people are as covered as possible.

Creed ducks beneath a swing, drives his sword into a god’s ribs, then rips it free just in time to avoid a blast of corruption aimed at his back. Another wave of power tears toward Amick and I solidify my barrier in front of him.

“Shit.”

That mutter has me whipping my attention to Nero. He and Doren tighten their grips on their swords as a handful of Oblirians charge toward them as if they’re trying to reach the pedestal.

Their bodies smack into an unseen force and fly through the air back toward the doors. The Dark Gods who continue to pour in here don’t give a single fuck about them or their screams as they stomp over them.

Yemi stumbles the smallest step forward and my fingers wrap around her bicep.

“Steady,” I breathe.

“I’m fine.”

She’s not. I’m not.

Gone is the agreement to only use our power on our separate groups. At this point, the only thing that matters is making sure everyone is covered. Sweat drips along our temples, and our breath comes faster than it had only moments ago. More guards pour through the doorway.

Too many. Far too many.

A blade whistles past Mara’s shoulder, and a burst of power follows. Then another. Every attack that misses one of my men or friends crashes into one of our barriers instead.

Each impact feels like someone driving a hammer into my chest.

“Thayla!” Creed bellows as he tears his sword free from another corpse. “Hold strong!”

Fuck.

The warning isn’t for my barriers.

It’s for me.

For Yemi.

They’ve reached the limit of what steel alone can accomplish.

Ropes of black leave Creed’s palms, and I convince myself the dark shadows crawling across bodies are also his power, although I know they truly belong to Prath. Gladian’s Strength has the floor groaning. The pounding of footsteps slows as Kyzen commands time. Riven’s giggle rings louder than the screams Sevryn’s ripping from throats.

The room explodes with essence.

I grit my teeth and clutch the Binding so tight I’m surprised the fucking globe doesn’t crack.

“Yemi…”

“I know.”

The separation between us and the rest of the room begins to strain.