Page 171 of Last Gift: Supernatural Battle

A gory trap. “And my mother would have loved that one,” I told him.

I walked toward the king, vaguely registering the slight limp in my gait. “But my twin, my Syera,” I whispered, nearly choked by the pain of losing her. “She would have enjoyed all of this, and nothing but your life will do to satisfy the daily agony I endure at losing her.”

“Syera,” he hushed.

I released a volume of magic I’d never dared to release. Its exit scraped at the already raw channels in my affinities, and my jaw locked against the instinct to stop.

I staked the demon to the frozen ground and stood on his remaining arm to pin it in place. He struggled, and his magic rose against me. I battered the threads of his violent intent aside yet again, delighting in his confusion as his attacks appeared to fizzle and die.

I set the tip of Ryzika’s blade under the scale in the dead center of his throat.

“I’ll think of Syera as I saw off your head,” I purred.

“You know not what you do—” His answer cut off as I pried off the red scale.

Not by what I’d done, I realized, but by the black cracks appearing across his skin. The dagger was killing him.

Good.

I was determined to be sure of the kill, however. Syera would get her slice of revenge too. I plunged the tip of Ryzika’s blade through the gap in his scales. Red blood—that was entirely demon in nature—bubbled from his lips and the wound. The crimson glow faded from his eyes, and I looked into chilling irises of almost translucent green. They were furious.

They were… sad.

They were uncompromising.

Thunder boomed around us, and too late, I noticed the hundreds of threads climbing to the surface from beneath us.

Demons erupted from under the knolls, and I felt the coldness of Wild’s panic as they closed in on me. I erected a hasty barrier as claws slashed at me. The force of their attack threw me to the ground.

Crimson demons were everywhere. That’s all I could fathom as I focused everything else on keeping my barrier up.

“Tempest!” Wild bellowed.

But the only way I’d been getting through the fight was by keeping my lens narrow and confined to the fight with the demon king. Now, hundreds of supernaturals were filling it once more. Magus, Vissimo, Luthers, and demons.

And I was crippled.

Blows rained on my barrier, and it took everything in me to keep the protection up amid the threads flying everywhere across the knolls.

I was dragged through a portal.

Hands shook my shoulders. “Draw them in, Tempest. Draw them in!”

My body was convulsing, though, and there was no drawing them in this time. I arched in Wild’s arms, and the screams leaving me didn’t sound like my own. They were too broken and pained.

The clamor of the threads had broken me.

I’d been broken, and the only choice left was to submit to their power. To the power of the Mother. To the power that had enabled me to save those I loved, seek revenge for my family, and to give magus a fighting chance.

I submitted, and my screams stopped. Peace floated inside to fill me, and my entire body relaxed. All I’d had to do was stop fighting.

All I’d had to do was remember that my power was her power. That I was merely the vessel.

And in that submission, I found an answer to the anarchy surrounding me and my mate. The answer wasn’t one I would have chosen or even thought of.

But despite that my soul screamed against the decision, it also nodded in agreement with the Mother. This was the only answer.

I opened my eyes and smiled at Wild, reaching a hand up to rest against his jaw.

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