Page 472 of Commanding Scythe and Sky

“Aren?”

“I can hear them.”

“Grayshell?” Mags’ eyes sparked, even as the color drained from her face. Concern pooled in my gut, but before I could ask, Grayshell provided—a full glass of water, meat, and bread. Tucking her hair behind her ear, I held her gaze until she nodded stiffly, grabbing the bread and tearing a piece free. A familiar vibration across the space had me prying my eyes from her to the gate⁠—

—and falling to my knees in front of the blue glow of a portal.

Get to the jump point!

Evac now, evac now!

It’s coming down!

Pretty sure a goddamn baseball had lodged in my throat, I fought to clear it, setting my palms on the glowing runes of Grayshell’s gate. Guys?

Alec, get her outta here.

Working on it.

Aren Amadeus, Commander of Grayshell, patching in.

Silence. The distinct glitter of disbelief and panic colliding in my chest.

I’m sorry, is this a sick joke?

A laugh burst out of me at Alec’s indignant tone. Honey, I’m home. Where the fuck are you?

Goddamn it’s fucking good to hear your voice, you crazy motherfucking bastard, holy shit.

You guys sound stressed. ETA?

Can we jump in? August’s voice hit like a punch to the fucking chest. Strained. But direct.

The portal lit up and I staggered back a step, wide-eyed as Bronwyn of the seventh coven stepped through, blade drawn. Her wild brown eyes snapped to my face, a disbelieving laugh bursting through her lips.

“You’re alive, you son of a bitch,” she barked as we collided. I crushed her against me as her voice crackled down the mental line. Portal is open. Bring ‘em home, folks.

“Holy shit,” I breathed. “You smell terrible.”

“Look who’s talking. Did the fucker cut off our showers?”

“No time,” I muttered. “Where’d you come from?”

“We sacked House Balaskas,” she panted as I set her on her feet. Hope sparked, a manic light in my chest. “He got her,” she said, reading the terror in my eyes.

Coming in hot, prep for stowaways, Alec warned. Bron and I both unsheathed our swords.

We’ve got Ally, August confirmed. Hell on our tails. Kade… detonated.

Bring her home, Rookie.

Lana, Freya, where the fuck are you?

“Mags!” I breathed, turning for her in a rush, hand clapped on Bronwyn’s shoulder like she’d vanish if I let go. “Mags, baby this is⁠—”

Centuries.

I’d lived centuries behind a blade, shoulder-to-shoulder with warriors cutting down the darkest demons the world could offer us. A bulwark between humanity and hell. Countless losses of brothers and sisters deeper than soul and marrow, more suffering than most mortal minds could comprehend.