Page 366 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

The portal shrank, inch by inch⁠—

But she had to yell my name before I snapped out of it.

I stepped in close and placed my palm to her spine, casting my own power outward, reaching for the filth and rage and darkness bleeding from the Renown.

I pulled, and she absorbed it.

The more I fed her, the faster the portal shrank. The harder I yanked on the magic polluting the city, the faster the Renown dropped—skin pale, energy leeched from their bones like I’d siphoned blood instead of power.

All the while, Ally screamed her defiance and ripped the portal closed.

“Holy. Shit,” Cyrus said—summing up all of our thoughts as the last ember vanished.

But Ally turned to me, death blazing in her eyes. “Bellamy Blackwell is Adrastos. He’s infiltrated the coven. He’s Blood Bound to Magnolia Green—who just fought off a goddamn dragon. I need you. Both of you. You’ve got ten minutes or less to get your shit together and get to Aren’s…or the entire planet is fucked.”

“What about Blythe?” I called.

But she was already gone.

Cyrus and I just stood there.

Staring.

And staring.

“…No pressure,” I muttered.

Cyrus let out a low, humorless laugh, grabbed my hand, and together, we jumped.

Alvara

“Baby, let go.”

My eyes burned as my boots hit the grass—Aren’s voice already slicing through the chaos.

Fuck. My. Life.

Everything we’d built—everything August and I had scraped together over months of effort, every stronghold Aren had fortified with centuries of strategy and restraint—was about to be tested.

And God help me, I wasn’t sure we’d survive it.

Too many pieces on the board. Too many moving parts I could no longer guarantee were in place. And I’d been too blind, too slow to see what the threads had been trying to show me. Too slow to stop the kindling before it caught. Now, that fire was licking up the path toward a blast I couldn’t pull us back from.

They’d never shown me this moment.

Defective magic eight ball.

Motherfucker.

I was juggling threads for Aren, August, Fae, Alec. The Thornquists. The Westerlunds. The Stuarts. Reyna. Nat.

And somehow, in trying to hold them all—I’d failed to see the one that mattered most.

Now the threads were short-firing like manic strobes. Too many, too quickly, with no way to decipher them in time.

But I knew what was about to come out of her mouth, and I winced preemptively.

“Let go,” Magnolia growled, trying—and failing—to yank free. “Bell!” she screamed, voice cracked and raw, her bloodshot eyes frantic as she hurled her hands toward him, willing something—anything—to work. “Stay with me, godsdamnit. Bell!”