Page 165 of Valkyrie Unknown

“Stairs.” It didn’t matter if I couldn’t do the things everyone else could—I knew how to handle myself. The Azzie Pity Party could happen later.

Zeke gestured as we stepped inside. “Main set is to the right.”

How did he know that?

“They’re blocked.” How didIknow that?

“Emergency stairs behind the offices.” He pointed toward a room jutting out from the wall. That probably used to have windows instead of just gaping holes.

“Let’s go.” Davyn was already racing in that direction.

There was a tiny voice in the back of my mind pointing out everything I should be questioning and overthinking. I shut it off. Now was the time to act and the rest would wait.

As we rounded the corner of the office, the emergency stairs came into view, as did the I-beam blocking the doorway.

Davyn raced toward it, and grasped the obstacle. The strain on his muscle was clear through his shirt and along the back of his neck, but with a few heavy grunts, he hefted the steel and pushed it aside. He ripped the door open, the creak of hinges mingling with the chaos of war above and around us.

Rubble and debris covered the concrete stairs. It didn’t matter, we had to get to the top. The three of us sprinted up, climbing obstacles or pausing long enough for Davyn to toss them out of the way.

We reached the top floor, and a steel door barred our way.

Davyn made quick work of it with his shoulder, and we burst onto the rooftop.

Flame climbed toward the sky, while smoke and sparks choked the air.

Maybe we’d stepped into Hel instead.

Kirby, Starkad, and their allies were spread in a loose battle formation, fighting more metamouras and sceadugenga, pushing toward a lone figure in the center of the bedlam.

Were they fighting me?

“She looks a lot like you, Azzie,” Zeke said.

Their foe wasn’t another version of me, but he was right, her face, hair, and build were quite similar to mine.

Metamouras swarmed us, and Davyn charged.

The ax was in my hand without thought and Zeke had stepped back, out of my range. I attacked. Cutting through one then another, then half a dozen more. I lost count, but they were still coming.

Teeth tore into my flesh. Chunks of me were ripped away, and I wasn’t healing. I didn’t have time to stop and focus on thehowof it. Why wasn’t it happening automatically, the way it had in the clearing?

Was it because the wounds were illusions?

The pain was real enough.

Davyn was a bear. Terrifying and beautiful. He was also engrossed in his own fight. I couldn’t call for help—he’d be hurt worse if he tried to break away.

Aches became agony as I swung and sliced and stumbled. I landed on my knees, and the concrete bit into my skin and rattled my joints.

Another wave of metamouras swarmed us, and my body protested as I used the ax to help me stand. I couldn’t counter in time. There were too many. They?—

A fireball flew past my head, engulfing the entire group in bright violet flame and incinerating them, without me feeling the heat.

I glanced over my shoulder. Zeke was the only person behind me. He was staring at his hands in disbelief.

“Did you…?” I already knew the answer.

He nodded. “No clue how.”

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