Page 246 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

In the distance, screaming. Wolves howling.

I sucked down one desperate lungful and fought onto my knees, blinking against the fog.

August.

That was the wall. The shield.

August was fighting Moros, the two of them a blur.

An illusion. The motherfucker had pierced my defenses and shown me the one thing guaranteed to keep me down.

I turned. Carr’s sapphire eyes held the same pained glaze, blinking rapidly as though he’d been stunned stupid too.

Goddamn.

“You good?”

He nodded, and I lurched upright. Disoriented, I realized we’d nearly reached the river.

August had made it—now grappling with the sadistic fuck on the muddy shore.

He fought one-handed, the other clamped to his chest. Every time he moved it, he roared in pain.

Hit. Carr said he’d been hit.

Holy fuck. I sprinted, closing the gap as I palmed my last blade. Red flashed in my periphery. I turned just enough to spot Freya fighting off blood wolves.

With him.

I blinked. Twice. Either this motherfucker had broken through August’s shield altogether, or Freya was fighting beside Atreus Hawthorne—neither of them in proper armor.

I snapped my focus forward as August knocked a weapon from Moros’ grasp. Then they were in the water.

August loomed over Moros, his good arm pinning him beneath the river, mouth open in what had to be a roar swallowed whole by the waterfall.

Fuck. The instant my boots hit the icy water, a burst of energy blew outward and knocked me onto my ass. Drenched, I shoved forward as August did the same and Moros clawed onto hands and knees.

I caught August’s eyes, his curt nod.

Together, we charged. Fatigue made us slow. Clumsy. I shot ice through the water around Moros, stealing his focus as he swung maniacally—blade shattering each wall as fast as it formed. Grimacing, I poured more energy into the river, demanding it smooth. Still. Wrap him in winter.

August drew his blade as I summoned the Umbrabàs. One look at the enormous gold sword and Moros’ eyes widened, his lip peeling back in rage.

“Abomination!” he bellowed.

I smiled, lifting my brows in challenge as I brandished it.

August hit first, black blood spilling when Moros dropped a shoulder too late.

I swung next—the bastard backing up.

Again and again, we charged through the bone-chilling river, and he parried. Fast. Too goddamn fast. A monster that old had no right to move so lightly. I jabbed as August swung from above—and Moros’ magic slammed into me.

With a start, I realized August was on his knees.

How?

How the fuck…