Page 252 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Screaming as they fell and fell and fell.

Cyrus’ wings snapped wide, and for one perilous moment, everything went silent. The roar of the falls vanished beneath the rush of blood in my ears. Time stalled as the air jerked him upright—August breaking free of Moros’ grip before the king slammed into the rapids.

For one stupid, beautiful second, I thought it would work. Thought his wings were strong enough. That he could catch the air. Sail. Glide.

But like a chute pulled too late, they kept dropping even as Cyrus spread his wings and tried to bank downstream.

But then they were turning.

Cyrus was rolling.

His wings snapped around August, a cage closing less than a breath before they hit the river with a crack loud enough to reach the top of the falls.

“No!” I lunged for the cliffside and jerked to a halt, my sword suddenly leaden—anchored in the water. Before I could rip it free, a strong arm locked around my waist and hauled me backward until we both crashed into the river. Spluttering, I tore free and drew a blade, whirling on Atreus where he knelt in the water, green eyes wide.

“Freya!” he snapped. “You can’t. Tieran’s wards block portals outside the jump point.”

I hadn’t thought that far. Hadn’t thought at all. I only knew I had to reach him. Them.

“I have to go.”

“We’re coming with you,” Viktor said, still staring in horror at the falls. I looked between them—the two men I’d gone to make amends with, who had thrown themselves into a battle they never asked for beside allies they owed nothing. Viktor’s eyes were heavy. “Come on, chaos.”

“Chaos?” I breathed as Atreus hauled me to my feet, my heart in my throat.

“It does follow you, doesn’t it?”

I would’ve laughed if I could’ve.

It took everything I had to lock eyes with Cali, frozen and wide-eyed on the riverbank, mouth hanging open.

“Carrson?”

“With Jo,” Cali called, color draining from her face as one hand covered her mouth.

“Marlana?” Her grimace was answer enough. Dammit. “Let’s go.” I turned, canines lengthening as anger took over, and bellowed, “Tieran, damn you!”

But it wasn’t the keeper of the region to appear beside me.

It was the necromancer.

Atreus and Viktor tightened their positions, but I locked on those aqua eyes that always felt too familiar. Like a book I’d read before and failed to recognize beneath a new cover.

“Let’s go.” He held out a hand. I didn’t question him, but my eyes narrowed. The motherfucker only smirked. “Some rules are for the living, Commander.”

My palm settled in his—cool, clammy with river water—and the world ceased to exist.

I saw the realm as Kade did. Not the near-monochrome of shadow travel. No—his world was darker, steeped in malice, except for the living. Souls, beasts, trees, fish in the streams—all outlined in a misty, pulsating green bright enough to hurt.

Everywhere I looked, shades hovered in the air. Spirits never at peace, waiting for orders from their king. Hollow white eyes tracked me as Kade pulled me forward, goosebumps racing over my skin.

Then the world collapsed inward—a pinwheel of color and sound—and we stood on the bank.

“Cyrus.” I released Kade and color screamed back into the world as I threw myself onto the saturated ground beside my mate.

How the hell they’d gotten this far was beyond me. Poe seemed equally offended, hopping over the stones to peck at Cyrus’ wings and legs between livid, high-pitched shrieks.

“Cyrus,” I pleaded, hands roaming his chest, finding wounds bleeding through his armor. My gaze snapped to his wings and a sob caught in my throat. Mangled. He’d mangled his wings. I jerked toward August beside him. Unconscious. Breathing. “Healer,” I barked. “Healers!” I corrected, desperation shredding whatever command I had left. Only when Kade vanished did I realize how foolish I’d been.