Page 396 of Commanding Blood And Bonds

A second vision hit like a punch to the chest.

I can’t! Ally’s voice—ragged and panicked—shattered down the line.

A blast of heat swept across the roof engulfing the building in white flame.

Pressure exploded in my side.

I looked down—blood pooled in my armor, and I hadn’t even felt the wound. A ripple of energy burst from me, slamming Adrastos back. It was enough. I turned. Toward the shadows. Toward the swirl of magic where Freya staggered upright, planting herself between the darkness and Mags.

Ansel’s quicksilver eyes met mine, shining with something I couldn’t bear to read. It has been an honor to fight with you.

“No!”

My roar cracked the air as the shadows imploded—like a bomb had gone off inside the dark realm. Three warriors tumbled from the void, bleeding, snarling. Marlana stepped forward, naked and soaked in blood. Her poisoned sword gleamed as she lunged at Freya.

Cyrus appeared—just in time—his arms flung wide, shadows colliding with hers, wings exploding from his back in a burst of light.

Freya shrieked. I bellowed as I hit the ground running. But I was too late.

Ansel appeared between the blade and the prince, his sword raised to block.

Everything stopped.

The world tilted.

The thud of my pulse drowned out sound.

Only the ragged, soul-wracking scream that ripped from my chest proved I was still alive.

Because the witch’s blade fell…

And Ansel lost his head.

Magnolia

The world stilled—and suddenly I was floating, unmoored in a body that didn’t feel like mine, watching in horror.

Like a rag doll, Aren’s oldest friend crumpled to the concrete, blood pooling at Cyrus’s boots as he staggered back, arms outstretched protectively over Freya’s slight form.

Freya lunged, canines bared. Even the moonlight seemed steeped in red, tainted by the death clinging to the air. Cyrus caught her by the waist, his face contorted in an agonized bellow as he hauled her back.

Marlana smiled. A thin, blood-red curve of cruelty.

I blinked.

Ansel.

Ansel was⁠—

Gods, no.

My shaking hands scrambled across his armor, muscles seizing as I clung to him. A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. There was no fixing this. Not even with all my sisters. Not even with time itself rewound.

The world moved like molasses as I pulled myself closer, as if proximity might shift reality, as if I’d see something different. Something reversible.

But it was his blood. Hot, wet. Soaking my hands, my knees. And I couldn’t fix it.

Couldn’t do anything but stare as the rest were forced to keep fighting.