Page 111 of A War of Ruin and Reckoning

With a deep dig into his reserves, he pulled enough mana to throw up another shield. Undead hit the invisible wall and shook their heads, dazed. Then they continued to batter the air. Now and then, the demogorgon emerged from the darkness and plucked one off the shield, dragging it back into the fray.

“I just need a moment,” Leaf rasped, lungs heaving. Every muscle in his body ached. “I just need… a moment.”

Nova made a pained sound.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tightening his grip on her hand.

Her face paled. “I feel… sluggish.”

“I’m almost out of mana,” he confessed. “Perhaps you’re linked to my levels. I don’t know.”

This wasn’t good.

Despair trickled into Leaf’s soul and those damned Sluagh looked at him with hungry eyes.

Scanning the battlefield over the writhing undead and brave soldiers left fighting, he glimpsed white and bloodied fur carving a way toward Willow, but still too far. Glinting flashes of metal, both in the sky and on the ground, revealed more of the Twelve were out there, fighting as best they could. He even spotted Cloud, his tattoos a clear marker of his identity. But with each enemy felled, more rose. Willow somehow turned the newly deceased into puppets, much like how Maebh had controlled the Sluagh—the ghostly warriors who existed between death and life. And this was Samhain, after all. The night the veil was thinnest. Except the night was done.

Gunfire peppered the air. A woman’s broken and agonized scream cut through the air like a knife. Leaf felt the anguish down to his bone. The Six tried to go to Willow, but Maebh held them back through the souls they kept.

They became feral, frenzied, desperate. Leaf had never seen them so wild.

Maebh’s panicked gaze snapped to the Prime. Her expression hardened, and she promised, “I won’t let her die, not like this. Not before she claims her inheritance.” Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over her cracked war paint. “I built this for her!”

“I know,” the Prime replied hoarsely. “But we don’t know who screamed. It might not be her. They wouldn’t be so wild if it was.”

The Six snarled, thrashing against Maebh’s restraint, and promised death in their eyes. But so long as the souls were trapped inside them, they couldn’t move against Maebh. The rising sun weakened them. The sky had become a canvas of pink, orange, and blue hues.

The agonized scream rose in pitch, a fatal plea for help. It was no sound a parent, or mate, could resist.

“Aleksandra is right,” Leaf rasped, trying to calm them down. Panic was a land of mistakes. He couldn’t forget his goal. “It’s too hard to see.”

“I don’t care.” Desperation filled Maebh’s bloodshot eyes with madness. “If it’s the last thing I do, I’ll keep her safe.”

“Maebh, stop!” he roared.

But the buzzing inside the Sluagh intensified. Their wings vibrated. Alarm sliced through Leaf. He blocked his ears and pulled Nova close, but how could he save her when he had no idea what was happening?

The Six straightened like pins, bodies stiff and spines bowed. An empty silence stretched. Time stopped. Then darkness erupted from their hearts. Swarms of black buzzing and flying things spilled from their chests.

Fuck.

Leaf dropped to the ground and took Nova with him, remembering to lower his shield. It had been cast over all of them, and he didn’t want to be trapped inside with the swarm. But that opened the path for the undead.

Dawn reversed into night as the droning darkness coalesced above their heads, blocking out the sky as it grew in size. And grew. And grew.

“The Wild Hunt,” he whispered.

Every imprisoned ghost, soul, and spirit moaned and shrieked gleefully. Dark gaping jaws emerged from the bubbling, misty swarm. Just as quickly, it melted back into the mist. Another limb pulsed out, revealing scaled hindquarters and claws. As it returned, draconic and tattered wings spread wide, beating and disturbing the dark mist in whorls.

The shadowed cloud was the length of the Twelve’s training field. The pulsing and buzzing stopped. Leaf held his breath, prepared to portal them out of there.

A beat of time passed.

The world held its breath.

And then a white-skulled dragon burst from the shadows, roaring in triumph. Horrified and grisly faces pressed against oily scales—trapped inside. They were the horde of the unforgiven dead, the souls the Six had eaten and kept as punishment for their perceived evildoings.

A shiver ran down Leaf’s spine. For the Sluagh to judge these souls evil, they must be the worst kind. Clicking from the battlefield warned them before the demogorgon emerged, prowling like a loyal foot soldier back to his queen, ready to protect her with his life. Covered in gore, the beast tracked the Wild Hunt above as it flew over Maebh’s head.

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