A resounding screech, unfamiliar yet oddly comforting, made me look up. Even the Drakaar glanced up and faltered. What I saw next left me speechless and awestruck as the last spark of hope in my heart struggled to stay alive.
A brilliant flash of light burned through the night sky, drowning out the light of the moon. Out of the swirling clouds above emerged four massive griffins, creatures of myth and legend, with the bodies of lions and the heads and wings of eagles. On their backs rode four magnificent fae-warriors, armed and deadly, holding swords flashing with silver fire.
They leapt off the griffins before they touched the ground, and the shadow creature holding me in its grasp shrieked in fury as a blazing sword of silver fire sliced through it. It exploded into black shards that dissipated in the light.
The fae-warriors took up a fighting formation, surrounding me and shielding me from the Drakaar. The first warrior to reach me, the one who had killed the Shadow Demon, looked to be the most lethal. I never knew the fae to look like this. His hair was long and dark as night, parted slightly around his unmistakable fae ears, and his face was the epitome of male beauty. Tall, lean, and corded with muscle, he radiated power like nothing I had felt before.
He turned to glance at me, and his bright, sapphire eyes glowed with silver sparks like stars in a twilight sky.
I pushed myself up and stood on wobbly legs, willing my hands to stop shaking. I gathered my magic and shielded myself.
The big fae-warrior turned his back to me as he faced the leader of the Drakaar. “Ah! Raziel,” he said with a smirk, seeming utterly unimpressed with the dark sorcerer. “It’s been a while.” He stepped forward with his deadly sword flashing silver in his hand, confidence rolling off him in waves. “You dare to come so close to the borders of Elfi?”
“Tristan,” hissed the Drakaar, taking a step back, his eyes darting to Tristan’s companions who stood around us, perfectly honed warriors. “Stay out of this, it has nothing to do with you.”
But Tristan didn’t flinch. “That is where you are wrong, Raziel.” His sharp eyes narrowed. “Princess Aurora is under the protection of the Queen of Elfi. If you want her—” he twirled his sword deftly in his hand and assumed a fighting stance “—you will have to go through me.”
“Hey!” said a red-haired warrior on my left, glaring at Tristan. “What about us? Do we look like pixies to you?”
Tristan turned his head slightly, and I could see the amused grin curling his lips. “Them too,” he added, jerking his head toward the rest of his companions. “Cade here would love to add your head to his collection.”
“So be it,” said Raziel, raising his hands.
The Drakaar called for the gorgoths, and the creatures swooped down to defend their masters. The fae-warriors fought them with strength and agility I had never seen before, whirling and slicing through flesh, bone, and shadow.
I heard a resounding screech, and the griffins descended on the gorgoths, tearing at their limbs and wings.
All around me more Shadow Demons sprang up, but the fire-fae warriors led by Tristan sliced through them with their flaming swords, cleaving through the darkness and leaving nothing behind. The Drakaar kept summoning more demons, but they were no match for the fae-warriors of Elfi.
So that’s how they do it. This was what I still had to learn. Now I finally understood why I needed to be trained by the fae.
I was completely mesmerized at the way the fae-warriors used silver fire. But out of the corner of my eye I could see a Shadow Demon moving on Santino, who, although alive, could not fight its magic.
I dove for Santino’s sword, which lay on the ground beside me. I pushed my magic into it and it lit up, channeling my silver fire into a blade of pure light. The magic within the blade made it lighter and easier to handle than a normal sword, and I allowed my magic to take over as I ran at the Shadow Demon attacking Santino. Raising my sword as I had seen Tristan do, I sliced through the creature. It burst into black shards of shadow that vanished in the light of my concentrated silver fire.
Tristan was beside me in a flash and glanced over briefly to check my sword, which had started to fizzle out. “Your silver fire is not strong enough. If you don’t concentrate, it won’t hold.” He moved to take care of the other demons.
My grandmother must have sent them. But how did they find me?
I tried to infuse more power into the sword, but only bursts of magic sparked through the metal and faded. It wasn’t as easy as it seemed.
Tristan looked like an avenging angel, his long dark hair whipping in the wind and his sword twirling and flashing in his hand as he swiftly beheaded two of the Drakaar. It was a pleasure to see them fight—even Santino could not move with the lethal grace and surety of the fae.
“Don’t let Raziel get away,” shouted Tristan to his red-haired companion, who stood over the severed head of one of the Drakaar.
But the Drakaar called Raziel was already gone, and so was the third key to the Book of Abraxas.
Tristan Nightshade
I kneeled beside Santino, who was thankfully still alive with no deep wounds. I placed my hands on his head and chest, assisting the healing. My magic flowed more freely, and I concentrated on knitting muscles and tendons, along with healing the cracks in his ribs. Santino was strong, but he still
