Page 180 of Warlord's Plaything

Sella.

The way she laughed when we trained in the pits.

The way she believed in me.

The way she died screaming in agony.

And Dagen.

The way he always called me Great Warrior.

The way he bled out for this fight.

The way he never got to see this moment.

Kaelith took them.

Kaelith wants to take everything.

If I give in now I will become him.

I snarl.

I rip myself free from the darkness curling around me.

I clutch my blade, knuckles white, breath ragged.

And I look at Kaelith.

And I say the one thing I know to be true.

"You will never own me."

His face twists, his grin faltering.

Just for a second.

Just long enough.

And that’s when Xyron moves straight for Kaelith’s throat.

57

XYRON

Iknow the moment my blade meets Kaelith’s throat that it is useless.

Steel does not kill gods, as he calls himself. Whether or not he truly is one remains to be seen.

The flesh beneath my sword is no longer flesh at all.

It is something worse.

Something that twists and shifts, absorbing the wound as if it was never there.

Kaelith’s lips curl, his empty, abyssal sockets locking onto mine.

"Still trying, little warlord?"

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