Page 376 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

Marlana screamed as I drove it home, her black eyes rolling back in her head as I slammed it to the hilt.

The world roared back to life around us as we all fell through the shadows. I staggered backward from the witch who’d robbed us of everything, retaining just enough sense to get out of arm’s reach before cursing as the bitch vanished.

I sucked down a breath as horror curdled my stomach. Whirling, I came face to face with depthless black eyes as demon blood slid from her nostrils. She yanked the sword from her gut, dropping it as she gasped for breath⁠—

And her hand snapped out for my throat.

A wall collided into me with so much force that I toppled. The ground came fast and unforgiving, knocking the air out of me as Cyrus screamed.

Terror unlike any I’d known slammed through my body as I fought for air that wouldn’t come. I rolled onto my side. Coughed. Sucked down a rattling gasp as my blurry eyes saw boots in motion—three sets.

Air. I needed air.

Instead, my eyes found silver glinting in the firelight. I wheezed as I forced myself to crawl on my belly for the blade, black blood dripping from it as it scraped over asphalt.

I shakily forced myself to my feet and saw the reason for Cyrus’ scream.

Carrson’s sword hand was dissolving.

Ash. Just before our eyes, he was turning to ash.

Like Gio.

Cyrus was a blur of darkness as an inhuman female battle cry shredded the air like talons bent on vengeance. “Don’t touch my daughter, you rancid cunt!”

Lana and Fae appeared like wraiths—a faint silver halo sending them glowing against the smoke of the city.

Marlana’s eyes widened.

But I couldn’t watch.

Because Carrson was dying.

With a groan, his knees buckled—the fight now off his hands.

“Cy,” he croaked, his eyes wide and glistening. “Cy,” he repeated, like a prayer that wouldn’t be answered.

“No,” Cyrus barked as he hit his knees beside him.

The wall had been Carrson.

My watchdog.

The man who stood beside me through everything had taken the demon’s attack meant for me.

Cyrus lifted his cousin’s face between his bloody palms, frantic. “Look at me. You’re going to be fine. You’re going to⁠—”

But Cyrus’ voice faded. So did the rest of the city. Because ash was eating through my friend. The one Paladin who chose me over the Stuart regime from the beginning. The one who’d had my back as I burned it all fucking down and started rebuilding brick by fucking brick. Who’d held me up after Ansel. Who never gave up on Cyrus.

This was my goddamn fucking plan, and Carrson was dying.

The blight reached his elbow.

The world turned to molasses around me, freezing as my eyes fell to the blackened sword in my hand.

The pressure of being watched had me looking up to forest-green eyes across from me. Atreus stood, mouth agape, eyes wide, silver blade limp in his fingers.

With one dip of his chin, I tossed my sword across the gap and he did the same.