Page 121 of Slaying the Shadow Prince
That was all Talemir needed to see.
He surrendered himself to his inner nature, to that dark power that lashed within. He felt it surge through his entire being, and when it demanded to be recognised, to be unleashed, he obliged.
The Warsword braced himself and followed instinct, launching himself into the sky. Air whipped his skin, tangling his hair, making his eyes stream as he soared, Terrence flying right alongside him. His own wings beat powerfully at his back.
The dark power did not consume him; instead, it set him free.
He was born to have the wind beneath him and the shadows bending to his will. There was nothing more natural than this, nothing more right. He took a dive, relishing the kiss of the clouds against his skin and the vastness of the sky. His wings were as much a part of him as his limbs, as his mind, as his heart, and with them, he would bring down the monsters that sought to break the midrealms.
With the world burning beneath him, Talemir shot straight for the reapers, brandishing his flaming swords mid-flight.
Terrence gave another cry and aimed for the eyes of the largest one —
Arrows soared from below, piercing the wings of the two lesser reapers, sending them spiralling to the burnt field, while Talemir dived for his sire.
He swung his swords, finding that without the ground beneath his feet, the motion sent him reeling. High above the Naarvian forces, he needed to embrace the wraith side of himself completely if he wanted to survive, to win.
If he wanted to claim the reaper as his.
Talemir leant into his new form, allowing his wings to beat without so much as a thought, allowing himself to bow to instinct, to veer when his body demanded it, to give in to each fall.
He had far from mastered the skill of flight, but he was and always would be a Warsword through and through. Decades of training had hammered the fear from him, had left him with a discipline so refined he could swing a blade almost anywhere. And with that thought echoing in his mind, Talemir Starling attacked.
He struck with his right blade first, then his left, swiping at the reaper’s deadly talons and slashing at its vulnerable wings.
The creature hissed, sending shadows shooting towards him, striking like vipers. Talemir let his own darkness swallow them, commanded his own shadows to cleave them in two. He lunged with his blades, jabbing at the monster’s exposed middle, eliciting a rasp of pain.
There was a unified cry below, and Talemir chanced a glimpse down to see Drue and Wilder slay one of the fallen reapers, a dozen wraiths dying alongside it, their skin turning to ash in the wind —
Pain tore at Talemir’s arm and he jolted back, cursing himself for his break in focus.
Blood poured from a gash in his bicep and forearm –red blood, not black,he thought distantly before he lunged.
In a whirl of wings and steel, he struck, his blades carving through flesh and bone, the following shrieks telling him he’d caused significant damage. He didn’t let up. Instead he threw a high strike from his left side to the reaper’s right, where its wing was exposed.
Blood sprayed.
Panting with the effort, his own wings still beating hard, Talemir cut upward with his other sword, cleaving into that sinewy flesh, that grotesque withered skin.
An arrow from below caught it in the shoulder, another through its thigh.
The creature’s clouded blue eyes widened in shock, its magic bursting uncontrolled from its body now.
Talemir’s power forced it back, lashed out in sharp, unrelenting blows.
A spear carved through the sky, narrowly missing the reaper’s head.
Talemir didn’t stop. His shadows unfurled from him, wrapping around the reaper’s throat, tightening and tightening.
The monster’s wings faltered as it thrashed, clawing at Talemir’s shadows, desperate for air.
The creature’s mouth opened. Words escaped its poisoned lips, words Talemir knew to be a long-lost ancient language, and yet he somehow understood… They came out in a hiss, coated with venom.
‘There are more of us than you know,’it wheezed.‘More come through the Veil every day. Therheguld reapersand our army of wraiths will continue to spread. Darkness will prevail. You will all die —’
It made a horrific gurgling sound.
For Talemir had shoved his sword up under its chin and through its head.
