91. Danica

Danica

91

A zrael's fangs pierce the delicate skin of my neck, searing agony spreading like wildfire through my veins. A scream tears from my throat as I claw at his head, desperate to wrench him off. Suddenly, he's gone, launched across the yard in a blur of motion.

Rhyland's roar shakes the air, his body swelling with barely contained fury. His eyes blaze with the promise of retribution, fixed on Azrael's form. The tension crackles between them, a force threatening to ignite an all-out war.

"A-ha-ha! Oh, yes, the sheer potency coursing through your veins is absolutely intoxicating. Mmm..." Azrael's tongue drags across his lips in a grotesque display of hunger, my blood painting a macabre portrait on his face. His eyes glitter with obsessive fervor as he fixes me with a predatory stare. "Make no mistake, my sweet, delectable morsel. In the end, you will belong to me, body and soul," he declares, his voice a low, possessive growl that sends icy dread slithering down my spine.

Rhyland's barely leashed rage is a tangible force, his entire being vibrating intensely. His eyes, usually a mesmerizing ocean blue, now burn with an icy fury that could freeze hell itself. Every muscle in his body is coiled, ready to unleash a devastating attack. It's as if reality itself is straining to contain the maelstrom of emotions within him. The only thing keeping him from erupting into violence is a fraying thread of self-control.

Rhyland stands before me like an immovable wall, shielding me. "You listen to me, you sick fuck! You will never lay a goddamn finger on her again!"

Pain sears my neck. I clutch at the wound, feeling blood pour out, hot and sticky. Rhyland doesn't budge; his body is a fortress between me and the monster who dared to violate me.

"I will fucking destroy you, Azrael," Rhyland snarls. "When I'm through with you, you'll be begging for death. But know this: she will never belong to you. Not now, not ever."

The coven stands ready, their eyes gleaming with anticipation. The air around them shimmers with dark energy, sending ripples of unease through the atmosphere. They are a formidable sight, a united front of malevolent intent waiting to unleash their arcane fury.

My head throbs with a vengeance, the pain pulsing behind my eyes. My vision swims, the world around me blurring into a kaleidoscope of colors and shapes.

I'm losing blood rapidly, and Rhyland can't budge to offer me his. My vision blurs at the edges, and panic starts to creep in. I need to stay conscious.

"Oh, Dani, Dani, Dani. You've been a naughty girl, haven't you? Taking something that doesn't belong to you," Azrael croons, his voice dripping with mock disapproval. "But fret not, my dear. I fully intend to reclaim what is rightfully mine."

The Soul Stone. The key to everything and the one thing that could turn the tide of this entire war. It remains tucked away, locked in a safe back at my apartment.

No way would I bring that ominous trinket here. Its presence radiates malice, a corrupting influence I dared not unleash upon this volatile situation.

The Soul Stone's immense power must remain untapped, its secrets sealed away. Even though it could shift the balance in our favor, the risk of its misuse is too great. For now, it will stay hidden, its true potential left unrealized.

I still remember when we brought the pieces together—Amara's and Azrael's. They fused seamlessly as if they were always meant to be one.

Now it's ours—a weapon of unimaginable power, a tool that could reshape the realms. It's a heady thought that sends a thrill of excitement and terror racing through my veins.

It's almost pitiful how Azrael cowers behind his coven of witches, a frightened child clinging to his mother's skirts. The once-mighty Lord of Shadows, reduced to a mere puppet master, pulling the strings of his magical minions to cling to power.

He tries to maintain his veneer of arrogance, but I see the cracks, the fear lurking in his eyes.

Through the haze, I feel Rhyland's arms around me, his strength keeping me upright. Lucian and Erik take up positions beside us, a united front against the brewing storm.

But even with their support, I can barely stand. My knees tremble, threatening to give out. Without Rhyland's solid presence, I'd be a heap of flesh on the ground. My eyes feel raw and burning; keeping them open is an exercise in pure willpower.

That witch bitch, with her glowing green eyes and her fucking magic, did something to me. Drained me like a battery, leaving me hollow and weak.

Rhyland senses it, too. He pushes me behind him, a human shield against the horrors looming before us. "Hang on, Angel," he murmurs, his voice a lifeline.

But Azrael knows. He sees the slump of my shoulders, the pallor of my skin. I'm a sitting duck, ripe for the taking.

"Well, well, well, the mighty Viking vamp-warrior himself," Azrael cackles, his eyes sparkling with sadistic delight. "Do you really think you stand a chance against me now that your precious little secret weapon has been drained dry?"

I want to scream, to rage against the injustice. I hate that he can see the weakness in me. Rhyland's strong, a force to be reckoned with, but can he stand against Azrael and his coven?

Bless his stubborn Viking heart; he isn't backing down. He steps forward, his body a wall of muscle and fury. "Don't push me, Azrael," he snarls. "Or I'll unleash my wrath, as you know and have seen."

Rhyland's newfound power—Lightning Wielder—hangs in the air like a crackle of energy that sets my nerves on edge.

For a moment, I see a flicker of fear in Azrael's eyes, a chink in his smug armor. But it's gone as quickly as it came. "Ah, yes," he drawls, smoothing his hair. "I had been curious about that peculiar ability and how a vampire like you inherited such a potent gift."

He gestures to the witches that flank him like rabid dogs. "You know, once you embarked on your little quest, leaving me to roam free, it dawned on me that there are many ways to flay a feline."

I feel my strength waning, my body growing heavier. It's like I'm being dragged into the earth. I sway on my feet, my vision blurring, and then I'm lifted, cradled in Erik's strong arms.

"Rest, Little Huntress," he murmurs, soothing my frayed nerves. "I got you."

Even as I sink into his embrace, I can't tear my eyes away from the scene unfolding. Azrael's voice cuts through the haze like a knife, dripping with malice.

"You see, Moretemis needs to be brought into one realm to complete his destiny. And it just so happens that we," he gestures to his witches, a smirk playing on his lips, "can do just that."

"Not now that you've lost most of your hocus pocus, you pathetic fuck," Lucian spits from somewhere above me, his voice dripping with disdain. "Seriously, have you seen yourself lately? You look like a reject from a Harry Potter cosplay convention. And don't even get me started on your witch squad. I've seen more intimidating Girl Scouts."

But Azrael merely wags his finger, prowling back and forth. "Ah, how astute, Golden Boy. But alas, there's one crucial component I require." His gaze snaps to Rhyland, hunger lurking in his eyes. "And that, my dear Viking, is you."

Lucian's voice cuts through the fog in my mind, urgent. "Dani, if you can hear me, open the portal now. We need to get out before these magical asshats turn us into newts!"

A portal? He wants me to open a portal. But how? I'm so weak, so drained. I can barely keep my eyes open.

"He's going to take Rhyland as a sacrifice. If you don't want to lose your man, dig into whatever is left and get us out of here," Lucian urges, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

Sacrifice. The word echoes in my mind. They want to use Rhyland as a sacrifice to bring Moretemis into our world.

"So, here's the deal, Rhyland. You come quietly, and I'll allow Dani to walk away unscathed—for now," Azrael proposes, his voice dripping with false magnanimity. His eyes glint with calculation.

His words hit me like a gut punch. The thought of losing him, of watching him die in some twisted ritual, is enough to make my blood run cold.

No. Not on my watch.

I grit my teeth, summoning every ounce of strength. It's like trying to spark a flame in a tornado, but I refuse to give up. I focus on the power that flickers deep within me, the embers of the inferno that once raged through my veins.

I picture my apartment at first, but out of nowhere, a wave of nausea strikes me, making me feel as though I'm adrift at sea, unsteady and disoriented. Vertigo sweeps over me, similar to the sensation of being on a swaying boat.

Then I can feel the portal manifest, a swirling vortex of light and energy, and I pour everything I have into making it real. My body screams in protest, every nerve ending on fire, but I push through the pain, through the exhaustion.

This is the only way. I have to believe in it and make it tangible—the vortex shimmers, solidifying as I channel every last drop of strength into it.

And then, miraculously, it's there—a shimmering doorway to freedom. Azrael shouts in rage, but the roar of the portal drowns him out.

Rhyland's roar is a sound of pure, unadulterated rage. And then, he unleashes telekinetic energy that slams into Azrael and his coven like a freight train.

The impact sends our enemies flying, their bodies twisting in a macabre dance of pain and terror before slamming into the ground.

Erik races us toward the portal, his arms locked around me. Lucian's desperate shouts for Rhyland ring in my ears.

I glimpse Lucian's face, his eyes widening in horror, and then he's a blur of motion, hurtling toward Rhyland. Erik pivots, and my heart stops as I see Azrael grappling with Rhyland. Rhyland's fists fly, his body a coil of fury fighting to throw off Azrael.

Time slows as I watch, helpless in Erik's embrace. I'm running on pure adrenaline now.

My heart pounds in my chest as I watch him. The fear of losing him, my focus narrowing toRhylandand the distance between us.

"Rhyland!" I scream, reaching out for him.

Luciancrashes into Azrael, sending him flying offRhyland. A witch who survivedRhyland's blast slowly rises, chanting words that are faint but send icy fear down my spine.Rhylandsurges to his feet, racing towardLucian.

"Rhyland, GO!"Lucianshouts, taking a brutal punch to the face. "Get her out of here!" His roar cuts through the din, a command brooking no argument.

Azrael struggles to get free, butLucianholds him in an unyielding grip.

I can see the sorrow inRhyland's eyes, the agony of choosing. He turns and runs toward me, his movements seeming to slow as if he's moving through molasses, each step an eternity.

The portal flickers and wavers, its edges blurring as my power wanes. Azrael's roar pierces the air, intertwining with Lucian's agonized screams. The witch descends upon us, her dark magic a suffocating force, crushing the air from my lungs as she unleashes her wrath on Lucian and Rhyland.

"NO! No….no!" The words tear from my throat, raw and desperate. We can't leave without them.

Rhyland writhes on the ground, his hands clutching his head, his face contorted in agony. Lucian, too, is caught in the same torment, his body convulsing in the distance.

"Rhyland!" I scream his name, my voice cracking with desperation.

I reach deep within myself, grasping for that burning ember in my soul, searching for something, anything , to fight back. With a surge of determination, I hurl my light at the witch. She stumbles, her hold on Rhyland and Lucian momentarily broken. Rhyland, seizing the opportunity, stands fast and begins to make his way toward me.

But Lucian, still locked in a fierce battle with Azrael, remains in peril.

Erik turns and starts heading to the portal.

"Erik, stop!" I plead, my voice a desperate cry amidst the chaos. But my words are lost, swallowed by the deafening din of clashing bodies and shattering magic.

Why aren't they helping him?

We can't leave.

Erik's tone holds a steely resolve, his words brooking no argument. "I can't, Little Huntress... I apologize. Your well-being is my priority."

Panic rises in my throat, a bitter taste on my tongue. The portal shudders, threatening to collapse at any moment.

Lucian's screams echo in my ears, each one a dagger to my heart. I'm helpless, unable to do anything. The situation spirals out of control, a dizzying whirlwind of chaos and terror.

The distance between us grows, a chasm threatening to swallow me.

"LUCIAN!!" His name tears from my throat, a raw, primal sound. "LUCIAN!!"

But it's too late. Erik steps through the portal, Rhyland's fingertips brushing mine as the doorway collapses with a deafening crack, sealing us from the horrors we've left behind.

We tumble onto a hard, unyielding surface, the impact driving the breath from my lungs in a painful whoosh. The tang of salt fills my nostrils. The roar of the wind and the crash of waves form a cacophony in my ears. I blink, my vision swimming as I take in the scene around us—a maze of ropes and barrels, the towering masts and sails of a ship stretching toward a sky of impossible blue.

A low moan escapes my lips as I struggle to rise, my body protesting with every movement. But before I can find my feet, the cold kiss of steel against my throat freezes me in place, sending a bolt of pure terror through my veins.

"Aye—What do we have here?"