** Could an undying love blossom in the ruins of a shattered world? **
And so the world of men was lost
and a new one, our world,
was born.
- Morrígan
Goddess of the Battle
of the Túatha Dé Danann -
4th cycle anno Bellum.
The Second World War...
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Zane's lips curled upwards in a snarl.
If he had been alone, the Thule cultists' plan would probably have worked, and they would have killed him in this place. The filthy humans could have incapacitated him with their weapons if not killed him. But they would have used the dagger when he was defenseless. The cold-forged iron would have put an end to his life ... just as it had ended his brother's life in the darkness of the catacombs.
But there was one person they hadn't taken into account: Myra.
None of them, not even he, would have thought in their wildest dreams of allying themselves with a bloodhunter of the bloodlords. However much he disliked it, he was glad to have her by his side. She was good; Zane had to recognize that without envy. He would probably not have escaped her clutches if she had been severe that night a few days ago. He was relieved she had spared him, even if he still wondered why.
She had him to thank for turning the tide in his favor as she had balanced out his dwindling strength with hers. The humans also seemed to be slowly realizing this.
„Why are you protecting a filthy fae?" hissed from the shadows. Incomprehension laced Casimir's voice with hot hatred.
„I don't waste my time justifying myself to doomed men," the bloodhunter's voice rang out, and she tilted her head in a smile that didn't reach her eyes. If there was a devil somewhere and he was smiling, it had to look like this... and feel like this: gruesome.
The eyes of the four, as Myra had labeled them, doomed souls wandered restlessly back and forth between his heavy-breathing figure and the petite image of the messenger of death. A heartbeat seemed to pass before they parted. Two men whirled around to pounce on Myra while the others fixated on him.
Only briefly did he see the flash of the dark cannon. Then he heard the bang.
Just in time, he jumped to the side and escaped the attack by a hair's breadth. His body buckled as he landed, the two idiots just dodging their opponent's blows. But the clumsy attack caused them to lose their balance and tumble to the ground.
„Foolish dolts," Zane hissed, pressed. Although his body was functioning as if on its own under the frenzy of the fight, his muscular shoulders were already shaking, revealing that he was increasingly on the edge of his strength. The pain penetrated his mind more and more clearly, breaking through his concentration and making each movement more difficult than the last. He might have collapsed by now if he had been in his humanoid form. Only the adrenaline of the fight kept him on his feet.
