Page 19 of Bound By the Beast Man
This is the openingshehas given me. With a fresh roar, I seize the moment, surging forward with a renewed strength fueled by a potent mixture of rage and hope.
The three witches before me are no longer a cohesive unit. They are panicked, their attacks now wild and disorganized.
I am a whirlwind of fury. My claws find their mark again and again.
One witch falls, a deep gash across her chest. Another stumbles back, her arm hanging at a broken angle. I am a beast of Osiris, a creature of honor, but in this moment, defending my mate, there is no honor, only a brutal, bloody calculus ofsurvival. I am a living wall, a barrier of claws and fury between them and her.
I risk a glance over my shoulder. Diana is not idle. She is chanting now, her voice low but clear, her hands weaving intricate, glowing patterns in the air.
The small, controlled light she practiced before is nothing compared to this.
She is gathering immense power, the air around her crackling, the snow at her feet beginning to melt from the sheer energy she is summoning. I do not know what she is planning, but I understand my role with absolute clarity.
I must hold the line. I must buy her the time she needs, no matter the cost.
The remaining Purna realize the true threat is not me, but the small, determined woman behind me. Their focus shifts. Their attacks become more desperate, no longer aimed at killing me but at getting past me.
Two of them charge at once, their hands blazing with dark energy. I meet them head-on, my body absorbing the punishing blows of their magic.
A deep gash is torn along my ribs, and the pain is a sharp, white-hot fire, but I do not give ground. I will die here before I let them pass.
My mistrust of her Purna heritage, the deep-seated prejudice that has been a quiet poison between us, is burned away in the heat of this battle. I see her now not as a witch, not as one ofthem, but as a warrior.
She is my partner in this fight, as fierce and determined as any manticore I have ever fought beside. I am putting my life, our future, entirely in her hands—in the very power that I once feared. It is a moment of absolute, unconditional trust.
I look back at her one last time. She is the center of a vortex of glowing energy, her hair whipping around her, her eyes closed in deep concentration.
She is magnificent. I turn back to face the advancing Purna, a bloody, defiant grin spreading across my face. I do not know what spell she is weaving. I hope it will be enough.
But as I brace myself for the next assault, I feel no fear. I have complete faith in her. I will hold this line for as long as it takes.
28
DIANA
Isee him, a magnificent, wounded lion, holding the line against a tide of darkness. He is bleeding from a dozen different wounds, his movements growing slower, but he does not yield. He is buying me time.
Time I must not waste.
The power I summoned, the raw, golden light that saved him from a killing blow, still thrums in my veins, a wild and terrifying river of energy. But a wild river cannot build a dam. I need control. I need a weapon.
My mind races, desperately searching through the fragmented memories of my long imprisonment. I sift through the years of hearing their hissing voices, their endless, hypnotic chanting as they maintained the spell on my coffin.
The runes they carved into the glass, the words they spoke to bind my life force—they are all there, burned into my memory. A desperate, brilliant idea takes hold. The very magic they used to cage me can be used to trap them.
The lock can be reforged into a key, and the key into a weapon.
I close my eyes, shutting out the chaos of the battle. I focus inward, calling on every scrap of magical knowledge I unknowingly absorbed.
The words of their binding chant come to my lips, but I twist them, reversing their meaning, turning a spell of containment into a spell of petrification. I feel the power answer my call, the golden light of my own life force weaving together with the dark, ancient structure of their magic.
My hands move on their own, tracing glowing, complex patterns in the air.
A vortex of energy builds around me, and I feel both terrified of its immensity and fiercely, savagely powerful.
I open my eyes. Corvak is on one knee now, a deep gash on his ribs weeping blood onto the snow. The Purna are closing in, their faces alight with cruel, triumphant smiles.
They are about to overwhelm him. I have only one chance. I pull all of the power I have gathered into my chest, a burning, incandescent sun of my own making.
