Page 62 of Elysian

I dropped the hilt and shoved my hand into the pack of Abrax’s things, digging around until I found the hoof pick.

Another rattle had me whirling.

It loomed on its two legs, shoulders curving forward. Its elongated snout stretched outward and became flat. Sharp teeth lined the mouth, large and strong enough to crunch through bone. It stepped forward. The part where hands should be curved into a single claw the length of my forearm. Drool dripped down the front of its black, leathery skin. It growled, the odd sound a mix of clicks and snaps.

Abrax whinnied and bolted through the trees.

My hand shook, but I carefully moved to the side toward the big tree. If I had it at my back, I wouldn’t need to worry about an attack coming in that direction. The Hollow’s head swung to follow my slow movement. It clicked, and the mouth opened to show a mouth filled with more teeth. Sweat dampened my palm.

A memory flashed forward. One of them slid a single claw down the torso of my mother. In another flash, one of them dragged the long string of my father’s intestines from the cavity.

The council had released them on my family. With that thought, a swell of anger rose, and I seized it.

The Hollow’s elongated snout hovered near my face, teeth bared and dripping saliva. Its rancid breath plumed against my face.

That clicking sound started in its chest again. It was what I needed to snap out of my daze. I rammed the pick into its throat and raked upward toward the bottom of the mouth.

It screamed, mouth gaping to show rings of teeth spiraling toward the dark hole of its throat. It lifted its arm and slammed it down toward my head. The claw stuck into the tree, managing to nick my shoulder.

For a split breath, I froze. The Hollow’s slit nostrils flared, eerie black eyes on the cut bleeding at my shoulder. It hissed, recoiling, as its other claw arched near.

I swung and ripped the hook out of the throat until goop spurted on my face. Frantically, I swung again, but in the recesses of my mind I knew this was my end. I would not be able to overpower it. My limbs were much too weak. I wanted to crumple.

The point of a sword slid through the front of its chest. Screeching, it staggered back, the sword still poking out of it. Cassiel pulled the sword out and it roared. With another slash, he slid the blade through its side, ripping it to the side and opening a gash along its torso. Another swing landed the blade in the side of the throat.

The Hollow dropped to the ground, twitching and seizing.

Cassiel stood, heaving. He let loose a high-pitched whistle. Hoofbeats thundered near.

“You must behead it,” he slurred before his legs gave out and he fell on his side. I gawked at his fallen form, then the Hollow twitched. I ran to grab the sword. With all my strength, I lifted it and brought the blade against the bleeding neck, positioning it to begin slicing. Unpleasant gushing sounds came from the rotted flesh. I gagged, the smell of decay worsening.

With how much I’d worked with Al, gore should have strengthened my stomach more.

I slid the blade forward and backward by rocking my belly into the hilt of the sword. Bit by bit, I made progress sawing through the neck. The spinal bone was particularly tough to get through.

I stopped to take a few breaths, letting go of the hilt. It stayed floating in the air because the bone it was embedded in was so strong.

Cassiel still had yet to move.

Once I finished severing the Hollow’s head, I would tend to him. Hopefully, it would not take me terribly long.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Grief

It had taken terribly long. Much longer than it should have to sever the head from the body, and I was still not done since I had taken breaks to rest between my bouts of working. Sweat slicked my hair to my temples.

All that kept me going was the agony writhing inside me as if it were a living thing.

Exhaustion swelled forward. As did tears. A torrent of them.

They flowed while I finished chopping the head off. It should not have surprised me that sawing a Hollow’s head off would fill my mind with images of what I had survived. Sadness and rage collided into searing grief.

Piper had been murdered. They took my family, rendering me an orphan. My death had been next; all caused by the council.

An entire society stamped down those like me because redbloods were different. All in the name of power.

The councils across all the realms had planned the rewriting of civilization, and all it had caused was harm to everyone other than themselves.