Dragath’s eyes flashed, and his face spread into a hateful, horrible smile. “There are thousands more where that came from.” He waved his hand at his demon minion. “They are all yours.”
The terrifying creature smelled of rotting flesh, and its eyes burned with a monstrous bloodthirsty gleam. It ran at me.
I raised my sword and slashed at it, tearing through rotting flesh, and rolled swiftly to the side. Black blood sprayed everywhere.
It snarled, turned, and came at me again.
A blast of raging silver fire came out of nowhere and hit the creature, burning through flesh and monstrous bone, reducing it to ash.
I whirled around to see Tristan racing toward me, Ashara by his side, her staff aloft and glowing in her hand.
Another creature stepped out of the portal.
Dragath raised the Dagger above my father. “All I need now is the blood of a Firedrake.” The Dagger made a hissing sound as Dragath sliced it across my father’s chest.
“No!” I screamed and ran toward him. No, no, no! I was too late.
My father’s blood dripped into the grooves beneath him and wove around the altar as if it were alive. He struggled in his bonds as the life started to slowly seep out of him, feeding the Dark Lord’s power and undoing the magic Auraken Firedrake had used to bind Dragath here.
“You are too late,” Dragath said in a voice that was slowly changing, becoming deeper, more otherworldly.
At the altar, tendrils of darkness had started to form, writhing out of the tomb as Dragath’s powers began to awake. He reached out his hand toward Aiden. Shadows whipped at the Prince of the Day Court, catching him and flinging him against the wall. Darkness coiled itself around Aiden’s body, holding him down and devouring him as he screamed in agony.
The distraction gave Skye an opening.
She raced toward Dragath, grabbed the Book of Abraxas from the altar, and shot for the cavern entrance.
Dragath’s eyes flashed with fury at the unexpected treason, and he flung a wave of blackness outward, spearing toward Skye. But the Princess of the Day Court was too fast.
She had already disappeared.
Aiden pushed himself up as the shadows dissipated around him. “I will find Skye!” he shouted and raced after his sister.
Ashara’s staff glowed dangerously bright as she raised it, directing it at Dragath. She blasted a hole through his shield, breaking the bonds that held my father chained to the dark altar.
I ran faster—I was nearly there.
Dragath raised the Dagger again, ready to finish off my father.
“Penelope, get him to safety!” I screamed as I lunged at Dragath, trying to grab the Dagger from his hands.
The magic around Dragath pulsated with power as the blood in the runes shifted and squirmed. “You are too late.”
The Dark Lord struck, plunging the Dagger of Dragath deep into my stomach.
Dragath
Pain seared through my body in a wave of agony and I fell to my knees, clutching the Dagger. My blood joined my father’s in the runes and splattered on the floor.
“Aurora,” bellowed Rafe. But his voice seemed so far away.
He was battling Lilith, but his shield was wavering, and she had him backed up against the wall. I could do nothing to help him.
“No,” I whispered as I frantically tried to gather the remnants of my magic, which was slowly but surely flickering out. Faces swam before my eyes as my vision started to blur.
“Tristan,” I rasped, slowly bleeding out onto the ground. “The portal.”
Tristan’s face betrayed his horror as he beheld the Dagger, its blood-red stone glinting on its hilt, slowly draining my life away. He could not help me. No fae could touch the Dagger without being pulled inside. Composing himself, he raced toward the dark portal, facing it to meet whatever came through.
Penelope had reached my father and was helping him up. If she could get him to safety, she could heal him—Dragath’s first cut had been shallow in order to prolong the flow of blood into the runes. She looked back at me and hesitated. I could tell she wanted to help, but she could not touch the Dagger without being pulled inside.
“Go! Please,” I pleaded. I was going to die here, but at least I could save my father. “Penelope, please! Take him and go!”
But my father was having none of it. He leaned on Penelope, still weak from the loss of blood and years of torture. Determination shone in his eyes as he faced his captor and tormentor. “You dare to harm my daughter, Dragath.” He raised his hand and lightning sizzled out of it, hot and alive, slamming into Dragath.
Dragath stumbled back, his expression stunned. He didn’t expect my father to still have power like that.
None of us did.
Azaren slumped against Penelope, his use of such magic after so long weakening him considerably. He was injured on top of that, and although the gash on his chest was not a mortal wound, he was losing too much blood, and Dragath’s powers were still growing.
Dark shadows whipped toward Penelope and Azaren. Her power flared, creating a shield, but it didn’t stop the shadows. They tore through Penelope’s magic.
Ashara came between them. All seven of the stones on her staff came to life, creating a stronger shield over them. Dragath’s magic slammed into it but couldn’t get through.
A wave of gratitude washed over me as I tried not to pass out from the pain. I trusted Ashara would do what she could to keep them safe. At least if they could get my father to safety, I had done something right.
I was losing blood, and the more that flowed into the runes, the more shadows were released from within the tomb, winding themselves around Dragath.
Dragath turned his
