Page 195 of Dark Fate

She relents with a final, agonized shriek, her magic dissipating like smoke on the wind.Rhylandand his brothers stumble forward, their bodies once again their own, and I feel a rush of relief so intense it nearly brings me to my knees.

But I don't have time to savor the victory. The otherwitches and Azraelare not finished, their faces twisted with rage and hatred, and I know this fight is far from over.

I release the blonde witch, letting her crumple to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, and I turn to face the rest of them, my body draining with a power that felt as ancient as the realms themselves.

"So, what's it going to be, Doc? What brilliant scheme have you concocted this time?" Azrael taunts, his voice oozing with derision. Each word is a stinging barb designed to inflict maximum pain and humiliation.

And then he strikes. Azrael moves with such blinding speed that I completely miss it.

Danica

91

Azrael's fangs pierce the delicate skin of my neck, searing agony spreading like wildfire through my veins. A scream tears from my throat as I claw at his head, desperate to wrench him off. Suddenly, he's gone, launched across the yard in a blur of motion.

Rhyland's roar shakes the air, his body swelling with barely contained fury. His eyes blaze with the promise of retribution, fixed on Azrael's form. The tension crackles between them, a force threatening to ignite an all-out war.

"A-ha-ha! Oh, yes, the sheer potency coursing through your veins is absolutely intoxicating. Mmm..." Azrael's tongue drags across his lips in a grotesque display of hunger, my blood painting a macabre portrait on his face. His eyes glitter with obsessive fervor as he fixes me with a predatory stare. "Make no mistake, my sweet, delectable morsel. In the end, you will belong to me, body and soul," he declares, his voice a low, possessive growl that sends icy dread slithering down my spine.

Rhyland's barely leashed rage is a tangible force, his entire being vibrating intensely. His eyes, usually a mesmerizing ocean blue, now burn with an icy fury that could freeze hell itself. Every muscle in his body is coiled, ready to unleash a devastating attack. It's as if reality itself is straining to contain the maelstrom of emotions within him. The only thing keeping him from erupting into violence is a fraying thread of self-control.

Rhyland stands before me like an immovable wall, shielding me. "You listen to me, you sick fuck! You will never lay a goddamn finger on her again!"

Pain sears my neck. I clutch at the wound, feeling blood pour out, hot and sticky. Rhyland doesn’t budge; his body is a fortress between me and the monster who dared to violate me.

"I will fucking destroy you, Azrael," Rhyland snarls. "When I'm through with you, you'll be begging for death. But know this: she will never belong to you. Not now, not ever."

The coven stands ready, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. The air around them shimmers with dark energy, sending ripples of unease through the atmosphere. They are a formidable sight, a united front of malevolent intent waiting to unleash their arcane fury.

My head throbs with a vengeance, the pain pulsing behind my eyes. My vision swims, the world around me blurring into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes.

I’m losing blood rapidly, and Rhyland can’t budge to offer me his. My vision blurs at the edges, and panic starts to creep in. I need to stay conscious.

"Oh, Dani, Dani, Dani. You've been a naughty girl, haven't you? Taking something that doesn't belong to you," Azrael croons, his voice dripping with mock disapproval. "But fret not, my dear. I fully intend to reclaim what is rightfully mine."

The Soul Stone. The key to everything and the one thing that could turn the tide of this entire war. It remains tucked away, locked in a safe back at my apartment.

No way would I bring that ominous trinket here. Its presence radiates malice, a corrupting influence I dared not unleash upon this volatile situation.

The Soul Stone's immense power must remain untapped, its secrets sealed away. Even though it could shift the balance in our favor, the risk of its misuse is too great. For now, it will stay hidden, its true potential left unrealized.

I still remember when we brought the pieces together—Amara's and Azrael's. They fused seamlessly as if they were always meant to be one.

Now it’s ours—a weapon of unimaginable power, a tool that could reshape the realms. It's a heady thought that sends a thrill of excitement and terror racing through my veins.

It's almost pitiful how Azrael cowers behind his coven of witches, a frightened child clinging to his mother's skirts. The once-mighty Lord of Shadows, reduced to a mere puppet master, pulling the strings of his magical minions to cling to power.

He tries to maintain his veneer of arrogance, but I see the cracks, the fear lurking in his eyes.

Through the haze, I feel Rhyland's arms around me, his strength keeping me upright. Lucian and Erik take up positions beside us, a united front against the brewing storm.

But even with their support, I can barely stand. My knees tremble, threatening to give out. Without Rhyland's solid presence, I’d be a heap of flesh on the ground. My eyes feel raw and burning; keeping them open is an exercise in pure willpower.

That witch bitch, with her glowing green eyes and her fucking magic, did something to me. Drained me like a battery, leaving me hollow and weak.

Rhyland senses it, too. He pushes me behind him, a human shield against the horrors looming before us. "Hang on, Angel," he murmurs, his voice a lifeline.

But Azrael knows. He sees the slump of my shoulders, the pallor of my skin. I'm a sitting duck, ripe for the taking.

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