She's the reason the heart of my family had been torn apart. Because that night, I'd unwittingly chosen her. Now, years later, she's my prey.
[Season 1 'Of Crows and Thorns']
***
NELLE:- Cursed by a terrifying dark power, I'm a secret hidden in plai...
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The shadowline of the forest embraced me. Cold rainwater coursed down the slope, pooling in the long grass and splashing beneath my feet as I dashed onwards. I'd almost reached the thick knotting of wild trees when the loud crack of gunfire had me spinning back around.
My heart stopped beating.
Danne's mouth was a grim line. He'd fixed his gaze on Graysen, along with a handgun. So much hate blazed in those slitted eyes. Fear more paralyzing than being trapped beneath him in the limousine engulfed me as he pulled the trigger—
The gun kicked back as he rapidly unloaded the magazine. Sporadic white light flashed from its muzzle, and I could almost smell the burnt metallic scent of gunfire wafting through the air.
No!
NO!
Graysen was a smear of movement—
A shifting of his shoulders—
As he ducked and weaved, dodging the deadly shots.
Click-click-click—
Danne cursed and tossed the gun away. The clatter of metal on stone followed swiftly.
I knew I shouldn't remain standing here. I should be running. But I couldn't turn away. I couldn't move my feet.
Black strands of wavy hair swept sideways as Graysen angled his head. He arched an eyebrow. "You were saying, Pelan?"
"Do your worst, Crowther," Danne spat.
Graysen cracked his neck and knuckles as a small cold smile curved his mouth.
Danne had the good sense to glance warily at his soldiers before taking several hurried steps backward.
Sunlight burnished Graysen's broad shoulders with gold. The wind teased the ends of his hair as he faced off against the small army of soldiers. His armor, the fabric threaded with adamere and cut like fish scales, clung to him like a second skin. As he reached back to unsheath his wyrm sword, the ancient blade sliding free from leather sang a sweet note that thrummed through my own bones.
Graysen's approach was the stalk of a predator.
Danne's soldiers spread out to flank him. It didn't seem to disturb Graysen in the slightest. He simply noted them with cold calculation. He whirled the wyrm sword before him in a humming figure-eight—both a challenge and promise. Faster and faster and faster until the rotating blade moved so quickly it was scarcely visible and became a blur of motion.
Danne stepped behind his men as they raised their machine guns and crossbows, shotguns, and swords.
Graysen surged forward, the spinning sword in front of him—
The explosive sound of gunfire tore apart the summery day—
