Page 293 of The Edge of Darkness

None of the other creatures had shields. So why did⁠—

Lyceius.

Their protection must have stemmed from him. And if he wanted them protected, that meant they were important to him.

Let’s see just how he likes it when they’re dead, then.

I rallied my light again, but the bludgeon was already on its follow-through and gaining speed as it completed its pass. I had no time to get my own shield up, so I lifted my sword to meet the blow. My arms shook with the impact, but the power I pushed into the block softened the brunt of it.

This close, I could smell the beast’s stench, like it was rotted within.

I drew my weapon back for a strike, but the creature caught the blade in its powerful grasp mid-air.

I balked, yanking the sword, but his grip held.

And then . . .

A powerful snap!

The iron blade shattered.

No! No!

My sword, the gift from my father . . . whole one moment, and in pieces the next. Only the base of the blade—a jagged shard of it—was left attached to the hilt.

I stared in absolute shock. I bent my wrist, feeling the wrongness, the lack of weight that I was so used to wielding. An extension of my own body, gone in a flash.

A wave of fury overcame me.

I slammed my empty hand against the creature’s shield, palm open, fingers spread wide, and pushed my power into it. I willed the shield to fall, just as I would a ward, and when my hand broke through, I planted it directly over the center of the creature’s chest and sent my light through him. An animalistic wail split the air just before he splintered into a thousand pieces.

The others halted and whirled, only to find the glittering specks of what had once been the general, floating on the wind. As one, they snarled. I smirked back at them, letting the hilt of my ruined blade be an anchor for my vengeance as I reached for each of their shields and commanded them to fall, one by one. The surprise in their faces confirmed what Niall had reasoned some time ago: that Lyceius might know who I was, but he had no idea what I was really capable of.

The moment they were vulnerable, my Dionachs laid waste to them. Silver and gold split the air. Wind whipped at my face as feathered wings moved around me.

And then there was nothing. Just twinkling specks where the generals’ bodies used to be.

I loosened my grip on what was left of my weapon and took a deep breath, letting the moment sink in.

I’d never misted someone into what looked like stardust before. Perhaps that was just the potency with which I’d used my power. I hadn’t dug very deep into my well at all, so my only explanation was that the anger incited it—gave it an edge it didn’t have before.

Silas stepped up to me, pulling me out of my thoughts. “They were shielded,” he said. “How?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know, but I think they were generals or something. No other being has yellow markings like that. They must be significant.”

His attention landed on what I held in my hand—the remnants of my sword.

“What happened?” he asked.

“He destroyed it.” The words stung.

Pieces of the blade lay strewn in the dirt behind me, but I didn’t bother to gather them. Not when I heard Niall’s voice calling out for me. I spun, finding Remic wiping black blood off his cheek, and Niall closing in on us, weapon at the ready.

When the sounds of what was happening around me finally settled in, the hairs on the back of my neck lifted.

There were screams, fae screams. And the sound of death . . . it was everywhere. And . . . there was running. The fae were . . . running.

I met Niall’s eyes, and the nervousness that I saw in them made my stomach plummet.