Page 147 of Kingdom of Chaos
“No,” Talon murmurs, his thumb brushing gently across my cheek. His voice is tight, strained. “But I won’t be able to shift or use any of my magic if you’re pulling from me.”
I nod, swallowing hard. Maybe that’s why Imogen is so on edge.
“I can do this,” I say, because I have to.
“You can,” Talon agrees, his gaze steady and fierce. “Focus on keeping a shield up. Get close, then strike. If you need more magic, draw from me. I have plenty.”
“Okay.” But a prickle of unease skitters down my spine. A ripple of wrongness. I don’t know what it is, or why, and I don’t have time to figure it out.
I raise my faelight shield just as a gust of wind, too strong and sudden to be anything but magical, slams into the trees,branches cracking and leaves swirling in a frenzied dance. My hair whips wildly around me as the world trembles.
Kerrim’s voice rings out from the shadows, cold and arrogant. “Locklyn, I’m tired of waiting. I’m coming for you, and I’ll end anyone who stands in my way.”
No.
I can’t let him make the first move. If I wait, he’ll target Talon, Imogen, and everybody else within striking distance.
With one last look at Talon for courage, I force myself to break from cover, sprinting toward where I think Kerrim is lurking. The problem is, the darkness feels thicker than before, a suffocating blanket swallowing the clearing. I can’t see him.
There’s a flash of motion to my left, then a blinding bolt of faelight streaks toward me, aimed at my heart. I throw up my faelight shield just in time, the blast ricocheting off the barrier with a crackling snap that leaves my ears ringing.
I know where the attack came from, but I still don’t see him. Shadows swirl in the air in front of me and I realize he’s using them to conceal himself, twisting the darkness into a weapon, cloaking his presence.
I grit my teeth and reach for Talon’s magic, pulling hard, feeling the threads between us blaze brighter, hotter. The surge of power floods me, igniting my core, and I shove it outward in a blast of light. The shadows recoil, splintering like smoke under a sudden gust.
And there he is.
Kerrim stands in the open, face twisted in a sneer, Shadow Striker gripped tightly in his fist, surrounded by a pulsating black mist that I’ve never seen before.
Our eyes lock, and without hesitation, I charge.
Kerrim doesn’t come at me. He waits for me to reach him before lashing out with his magic. A dark bolt of electricity erupts from his hand, shooting toward me like a dagger, but Ianticipated the attack and dodge to the side, not letting it slow down my momentum. Within two more quick strides I’m in his face, and rather than attacking with magic as he probably expects, I strike with what I know. A sharp punch to the gut.
Kerrim may have the magical advantage, but I’ve trained nearly my whole life in hand-to-hand combat. He doesn’t know how to block or absorb the hit, so he staggers back, losing his footing, barely catching himself before falling. Still hunched over, he tries to lift his hand to launch another attack, but I’m already there, slamming my knee into his face before he can recover.
His head snaps back, his glasses flying off, a cut opening above his brow. Blood spills down his face. A quick jab to his nose sends more gushing out, and he finally collapses, landing hard on his side.
I’m mid-swing with a kick aimed for his gut when he throws out his hand and a blast of wind slams into me. The force sends me flying backward. I hit the ground hard, the impact rattling my bones and driving the air from my lungs.
I cough, struggling for breath as pain blooms through my ribs.
We scramble to our feet, both of us bruised and battered, both of us fueled by a savage will to survive.
Kerrim’s eyes flash with rage, madness, and something feral. For a split second, I swear they glint red in the dim light.
Diving at each other, we clash again. Magic and fists, light and shadow. My training gives me an edge, at first—ducking, weaving, landing blows that knock him off balance.
But it’s not enough.
With Shadow Striker in his grasp, Kerrim is relentless, his power growing with every strike. Even with Talon’s magic flooding through me, I can feel myself slipping, my body slowing.
Kerrim drives me back, each blow heavier than the last, his magic crackling hotter, stronger, my strength draining with every clash. My hands tremble. My lungs burn. My arms scream from the strain.
This might be it, my mind whispers. The end.
No.
I won’t give up. Not now. Not ever.
