With Broken Grace

Chapter Twenty-Three

The rush of battle wasn't a new feeling to me. I used to bask heavily in the warmth of soldiers as they suited up, sharpening weapons that were mostly for show.

The SUV full of people I'd grown to respect and trust spoke quickly around me. Sammi was on the ground, a few books strewn around her, spilling facts I knew to the others, not even glancing at me. She knew I knew everything and wasn't going to treat me like an idiot. 

Braeden listened intently, giving his two sense on how close he could get with each weapon, only trading insults with Maven occasionally.

I could tell Rhys was trying not to listen to their bickering, but the tug at the corner of his lips gave all the tell I needed. He drove silently, only offering information when it rivaled what Sammi was reading. The entire vehicle buzzed with excitement. I could hardly tell what was nerves and what was joy.

My eyes remained on my hand for most of the ride. The cut wasn't deep, it coursed right past where my grace flowed, letting only angelic blood pass. Specks of the gold within it shone from the twinkle of sunlight through the windows. It was healing slowly, but would leave a scar. Ethereal Branding always left a scar.

Cressida was next to me, talking to Sammi and Braeden about the possible enemies Tamriel would assemble, but she noticed my silence quicker than I thought she would've.

When the two got into debate on whether Maven or Braeden should get two of the three working blades, my partner finally looked toward me. She didn't actually say anything to me, but instead, I felt her eyes flicker to my hand, to the open wound.

I had nothing to say to her as well. It wasn't going to be hard to hand over the sword, since no one here could pick it up. It would sit pointlessly in this car while the other three pierced body after body, all to save earth. It didn't matter though, how easy it would be to give Rubin her weapon, the lingering knowledge that they'd take my wings is all it took to shake my core.

Slowly, Cressida's hand slid over mine, not even paying attention to the lingering blood. She intertwined her fingers with mine, holding tightly as if I were going to disappear. I finally let my eyes reach her, no expression on my face.

"You aren't going to lose those wings, my love," Cress murmured, only for my ears to hear. She kept her face close to mine. "No one is going to take what so rightfully belongs to you."

My love. I offered her a gentle kiss on her temple, letting that shy smile of hers wash over me. "I know," I told her. "I refuse to lose anything to anyone ever again. Not my wings, not my memories, not you." My words were firm, unwavering, just like my will to survive this shit show.

She smiled a little brighter, but it didn't reach her eyes. She either didn't believe me, or didn't want to think about the alternative. 

Somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled. I watched Maven peek out the window, and I really didn't want to ask based off the look on her face. Her eyes glazed over in seconds, mouth agape in aw.

"I'm guessing it isn't a rainstorm?" I muttered as Maven shook her head.

"One might think so but...there isn't a cloud in the sky. They're all demons. The entire sky is covered with them."

Her words hardly got out before I was rushing to a window, spotting what she saw instantly. Sure enough, the bodies of thousands of possessed humans coated the once blue above us. Their inhumane twitching unnerved me, their curved featherless wings froze me. I could smell the Mizidate from here.

It was clear Tamriel knew we were here.

I nodded in Braeden's direction, giving him the silent instruction to get ready. He soundlessly strapped the enochian blade to his back while Maven crawled back beside him, gripping the demonic bronze sword as her own protection.