Page 55 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

I cannot! he roared into my mind, pain flooding his eyes.

Seven Sisters, he was…

Impossible.

Elements flew toward him from every direction, exploding like fireworks against his shield.

Arrows ricocheted.

Bullets dropped.

I cannot!

A primal fissure cracked his voice.

Please, Green!

August was livid, barking orders and sending Grayshell to flank them. Freya stood at his side.

Chaos reigned supreme. But a godsdamned tear slid down the face I’d long ago memorized.

Something struck me square in the chest.

Ally had told Aren that Moros’ control over Adrastos was affected by their proximity, which meant…

Fae screamed as the shaking blade sliced her face open, her vines straining against his impossible strength.

Now, he ground out as my mouth fell open.

He raised his trembling arm high above her, as though preparing to drive the blade directly into her heart.

Alec and August loosed their arrows as my shadows roared forward, every assault slamming uselessly into Adrastos’ shield.

“No!” I bellowed, releasing the shadows.

They blasted outward like a bomb, sending everyone ducking for cover.

Magic amplified my voice, transforming it into a lethal command.

“Yield!”

Something snapped.

Something deep and primal shattered against the walls of my soul.

Breaking.

Burning.

Writhing through my veins.

“Drop it,” I ordered, slowly unclenching my fist as my magic demanded that he do the same.

Relief and terror flooded my blood in equal measure, elation clawing up my throat as power rippled through my veins⁠—

Because his hand opened.

The blade fell.