Page 89 of The Moon's Fury
“Mama!” Layna shouted. Her feet moved of their own accord, darting across the stone floor toward her mother.
Zarian’s gaze snapped to her—he was fighting four men at once, his eye swollen shut and a throwing star jutting from his shoulder. His partner looked far worse, nose gushing blood, three deep gashes lining his face.
She called her light to her palms, but the man angled her mother in front of him, a living shield.
“Enough!” he screamed again, and Zarian and his partner stopped. The remaining Medjai closed in around them.
Her feet kept moving, desperate steps one after the other. She made it halfway across the room when a man barreled into her, knocking her into the ground and yanking her arms behind her back.
Layna’s grandfather rose from where he was crouched behind the table and launched himself at the man holding her mother. The man kicked him away, struggling to keep his hold on Hadiyah who was fighting with all her might to escape. Dharaidclawed at the man’s knees, fighting the way only a father could to protect his daughter.
Layna thrashed beneath the man pinning her, fury and panic twisting through her limbs—but he seized a handful of her hair and drove her head into the stone floor. Pain exploded behind her eyes, a brutal throb reverberating through her skull.
Zarian bared his teeth, fighting against the four men holding him back, struggling to reach Hadiyah.
The man’s face was contorted with rage. Either intentionally or accidentally, Layna didn’t know, but she watched in horror as his knife pressed into Hadiyah’s throat andcut.
Her breath left her in a sharp gasp.
He slit her mother’s throat.
The ringing in her ears grew to a crescendo.
He slit her mother’s throat.
Hadiyah’s body fell to the ground.
He slit her mother’s throat.
Light exploded around her.
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Hadiyah—herbody—felltotheground with a sickening thud, blood spewing from the violent gash at her throat.
A horrified, anguished scream rang out. It turned his blood to ice, the marrow in his bones to lead. Another raw, pain-filled cry shattered the air—the only warning before a shockwave of light tore through the room. The force struck like a hammer, slamming into him and the men restraining him, sending them all crashing to the ground.
Shielding his eyes against the brightness, he saw Layna—no,fuck, the Daughter—haloed by light. The face he loved was unrecognizable, contorted with raw fury. Her eyes blazed, crackling with white-hot light. She lifted her hands, threw her head back, and unleashed another piercing wail, one that shook the moon and sun in the sky.
The windows shattered.
Colorful glass shards rained down in a mockery of a hailstorm. He shielded his face, arms bearing the brunt of the sharp glass.The Medjai around him regained their bearings and stared at the Daughter, faces twisted with fear.
Good.
The nearest man drew a dagger, blade flashing as he aimed for her. Snarling, Zarian lunged, slamming into him with bone-crushing force. They hit the ground hard, but Zarian was faster—gripping the man’s wrist and driving the blade into his neck. The man gaped, his breath hitching as blood spilled, dark and slow. His lips parted, voice rasping, “Traitor…” before the last of his life slipped away.
Another anguished scream tore through his heart, just as a fresh wave of searing light lashed through the room. The dead man’s skin blistered beneath its heat, blackening where it touched. Zarian braced himself, sweat beading at his temples—but the fire-hot energy left him untouched.
There were still eight Medjai left, not counting Kharteen, who had blessedly remained loyal to him.
And all eight of them had their sights set on the Daughter.
She had summoned a radiant barrier, a shimmering shield that pulsed with raw energy. The Medjai hurled daggers and throwing stars, their weapons slicing through the air one after another—only to melt the moment they met her glowing veil. The heat of her light was relentless, so fierce that the molten remains of metal pooled at her feet, hissing as they cooled.
He locked eyes with Kharteen, a silent understanding passing between them—an unspoken language forged in blood and darkness.
Without hesitation, Zarian lunged at the nearest man, Kharteen moving in tandem. Zarian recognized his victim—they had shared missions once, in what felt like another lifetime. Zarian couldn’t care to remember his name, not when he wasn’t long for this world.
