Page 175 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

His power filled me like the glide of his calloused hands over my collarbones. A shudder rolled through me as the flames grew—our energy merging in an intoxicating, seamless flow. Like a tantric dance, our bodies and power undulated together, tracking the demons through alley after alley until we reached the pulsing center of their dark pull.

One look from August. A nod.

I pushed the door open and grimaced. Of course—a dark stairway, plunging down into shadows.

Sensing ahead, I found a few dozen more, but nothing strong enough to shake my confidence.

We descended, steady heartbeats echoing in the dark, the chill intensifying with every step. Then a portal flared across from us—and from it stepped a crowned demon.

My spine stiffened as its black eyes locked on mine before the others even noticed us. Its bloody sneer pulled wide.

I didn’t wait. I pulled on August’s well and loosed fire into the open basement.

Flames consumed everything. August caught the stragglers, wordless and methodical, dismembering whatever slipped through my wall of heat.

But my focus was locked on the crowned motherfucker—the memory of Aren’s agony fueling every strike. We carved our way through rows of crawlers until my blade met the demon’s.

Pain echoed in my skull like a memory, but this time I had August’s shield. I yanked it forward, wrapping it around me—a wall between me and the second hierarchy nightmare.

Strike for strike, we danced in a firelit ring. Its talons clawed at my shield, power reaching for my mind—but August held strong. Impenetrable. Towering.

And in its hollow eyes, I saw it—fear.

Satisfaction surged, and I drove my sword up and through its chest, striking where its comrade had impaled Aren. A screech tore through the air, onyx blood spraying as the flames receded.

August moved in behind me.

This had to be the last one. At least, I prayed he was the last.

Its frantic gaze flitted from August to me—and then it said it. The same word they all did when they saw us together.

“Impossible.”

“In the flesh, motherfucker,” I snarled, twisting my blade, watching the light drain from its eyes. And then⁠—

Witches running, screaming.

A wall of horned demons descending.

Gold and ruby. The crescent moon framed by wings.

Aren, smiling fondly down at Magnolia.

Me, wearing the diadem, channeling power.

Aren, outnumbered in a burning building. Masked Renown. Horned.

“No,” I breathed, snatching my cell and dialing. But I froze, phone halfway to my ear.

I couldn’t place the images. Couldn’t tell if they were hours or days away.

“Oh, that looks promising,” August muttered darkly.

I turned back to the portal, which glowed an eerie blue.

“Aren,” I whispered, the visions still pouring in—dozens, no sequence, no clarity.

“Go,” August ordered. “I’ve got this.”