Page 160 of Every Shade of Shadow

Lily whirls past holding her injured arm with one hand, hurling a blast of flame at two wraiths swooping down from above. "Ana. Behind you!"

I spin, deflecting a curse back at the warlock who cast it, because these aren’t just shadows anymore.

A scream rends the air as Cassandra disappears under a swarm of shades. I sprint to her side, unleashing a blast of Umbrarum Tegumen to scatter them and using another charm to free her from the wall.

She slumps to the ground on her knees and whimpers, her hair cascading down her face and blocking her features from view.

“Get up!” I scream. “Fucking fight!”

She nods and stands, bringing both hands together and summoning a ball of light.

It’s only now I can see the true horrors of what Mortis did to her, the cuts that hash almost her entire body.

I don’t know if this is forgiveness, or understanding, but fight she does.

The combat escalates, Shadowcraft and primal chaos magic burning the air itself, an entire wall lit in flame as Ava forces another horde back.

A hulking berserker charges at me, axe raised. I fling a lance of shadow, piercing his chest—but too late. The axe slashes down, biting deep into my shoulder. I scream, staggering back as blood gushes from the wound around my fingers.

The berserker bellows in triumph, preparing to strike again—when Darkwood descends like a vengeful angel, rage etched into every line of his face.

"You dare harm what is mine?" His eyes blaze emerald fire as he gestures, jagged spikes of ice erupt from the ground to impale the berserker. A strangled cry, and the beast expires in a burst of gore and shadow.

Darkwood rushes to my side, clutching my hand over the wound. "Ana, look at me." His touch ignites a flare of healing magic, the worst of the pain fading.

Gritting my teeth, I nod. "I'm alright. Let me fight."

"Not like this. You're in no shape—"

"We have no choice!" I insist. "If we falter now, all is lost. You said it yourself."

He hesitates, jaw clenching, before dipping his head. "So be it. But I swear, if you suffer more harm..." He ceases talking altogether, before letting off a razor-edged growl.

I squeeze his hand, refusing to back down. "Then end this."

Darkwood's gaze hardens to flint. He pulls me close, kissing me fiercely. A surge of power floods my veins—his power, raw and primal and mine to wield.

When he releases me, I'm trembling—not from pain or fear, but from the dark deluge of magic coursing through me, awakening a hunger that gnaws at the very edges of my control.

I have seen Death. I have stared it in the face.

This is nothing.

I throw back my head and laugh, the sound edged with madness. Shadows gather and twist around me, coalescing into a cloak of living night.

"Hey, Mortis,” I yell.

With a slash of my hand, I hurl a spear of solid shadow. It punches through her defenses, leaving a jagged hole in her chest—but still she stands, pale eyes aglow.

"Impressive," she rasps. "But not enough."

She flings a counter-lance of sickly green at me. I deflect it and return a blast of searing night, striking her somewhere in the upper chest.

It pins her back, but again, it’s not enough.

"Had enough yet?" I taunt, advancing. Another spear, my shadow-shield breaking.

"Meddling bitch," she staggers, clutching at her chest and eyes dripping with rage. "You will not best me. I am eternal, I—"

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