The following day, Azrael met with Amycus to discuss the information he’d gathered from Distria, both agreeing that the Desert Garrison was their next target. Amycus didn’t mention Azrael’s interrogation tactics, but a sadness lingered in the man’s eyes. That sadness encouraged Azrael to work on strengthening his internal wall, blocking Spectral emotions entirely—he struggled enough with controlling his own. The anger fueling him churned under the surface, but other emotions had risen and he didn’t know what to do with them, having spent years suppressing feelings considered weak.
After the meeting, Azrael continued his training with Amycus, forcing his magic to become second nature, combining his two powers and making them act as one. He vaulted in the courtyard while discussing how best to sabotage Drexus’s facility and obtain a sample of the serum for Amycus to study, but using one part of his mind to strategize and the other to vault caused him to materialize in locations he hadn’t aimed for.
Azrael’s lessons intensified every day as he dodged flames and sandstorms while vaulting to marked circles around the courtyard. His experience and discipline as an assassin merged with the magic, creating a lethal combination, and Azrael transformed, becoming what he always wanted: invincible. Nothing and no one would stop him from overthrowing Drexus, destroying Bronn, and finding the Fire Spectral.
During one of Azrael’s trainings, a small crowd gathered. Two new Spectrals joined Kord, Flynt, Delmira, and Slater, who all loitered against the wall observing as Amycus blasted water from the barrel to where Azrael stood. From the courtyard, Azrael smirked, catching Slater and Flynt exchanging coins, hoping whoever bet against him lost a considerable sum.
Suddenly, Azrael wheezed, falling to one knee. Black spots floated in his vision as he reached for his throat. Amycus had both hands raised, his forehead glistening.
“Come on, Az, you can do it!” Kord called from across the courtyard.
Azrael closed his eyes, blocking out the feeling of suffocating, and focused on the power humming within him, seeing himself appear behind Amycus to get out of his line of sight. The familiar tug yanked him into the void with a force he hadn’t experienced before. A light appeared suddenly and pain radiated through his shoulder as he gasped for air, lying on his side. The tree behind Amycus had fallen over. Its trunk was splintered and a carpet of dead leaves covered the ground.
“That was one of my favorite trees,” Amycus said, wiping sweat off his brow.
Azrael got to his feet and rubbed his shoulder, frowning at the damaged tree. “How long would you have kept going?”
“Until you lost consciousness. You hesitated and then panicked, and based on the tree, your Amp magic influenced the vaulting. You need to disappear the second you feel the air pull at your lungs.”
“I never panic.”
Amycus chuckled. “The tree would say otherwise.”
Kord jogged across the yard. “I knew you could do it,” he said. Azrael swore when Kord smacked him on the shoulder. The other Spectrals lingered against the wall, some whispering, others staring with wide eyes. Dirt swirled around Slater’s feet while Flynt smiled, counting coins.
Azrael walked to the water barrel, where Flynt joined him. “Well done,” Flynt said, twirling a coin through his fingers.
“I thought you would’ve bet against me.”
“I may not like you, but I’m not a fool.” Flynt waved the two newcomers over. “This is Aura and Vale. Aura is an Air and Vale is an Earth. They’re coming with us to the Desert Garrison.”
Aura’s long white hair wafted as if in a constant breeze, her gray eyes reminding Azrael of a stormy sky. “You did well fighting through Amycus’s magic,” she said. “You’ll have to try it with me sometime.”
Azrael raised a brow. He’d fought other Air Spectrals in the past, but Aura’s power radiated off her. She would give him a challenging workout if he didn’t pass out first.
Vale, who looked to be in his teens, ran a hand through his unkempt brown hair. He bounced on his toes; eyes wide with excitement. “That was amazing! I’ve never seen a Vaulter before.”
Slater shook his head, mumbling under his breath. Azrael glanced at Kord.
“They know,” Kord said.
“And you’re okay working with the Angel of Death?” Azrael asked, staring at Aura and Vale. Aura’s eyes narrowed slightly and Vale swallowed.
“I trust Amycus, therefore, I trust you,” Aura said, closing the distance, her magic rustling her dress and the leaves swirling at her feet. She glanced at Azrael’s chest and his lungs tightened. “Don’t make me regret it.”
Flynt stepped closer, resting his hand on the hilt of his sword while Vale’s eyes darted between Aura and Azrael. Amycus stared from across the courtyard, a line of sweat dripping down his temple.
Back at the Guard, if someone had been foolish enough to threaten him, they’d find themselves on the ground, bleeding. He relaxed his hands and counted to ten—his fight wasn’t with them, but he could use their magic.
“I need practice vaulting with distractions,” he said, inadvertently scanning the courtyard for Kenz.
Kord crossed his muscular arms. “What did you have in mind?”
For the next hour, Azrael trained harder than he had in years, physically and mentally. He sparred with Kord while Flynt threw fireballs, which forced Azrael to block Kord’s strike and vault away from the flames while Amycus gave instructions between attacks. At one point, Aura extracted the air from his lungs while Vale and Slater hurled rocks, compelling Azrael to trust his training and surrender to his magic. He dodged and lunged, swords clashing as he vaulted, sweat dripping down his face and back. Once a separate entity, his magic became a part of him—body, soul, and spirit.
Azrael crossed swords with Kord while Vale and Aura created a dirt cyclone and spun it toward him as Flynt ignited another ball of flame. Time slowed and a shiver ran down Azrael’s spine, his magic fluttering.
Then Kenz walked into the courtyard, her hair shining like black silk in the midday sun. She frowned, glancing around until her eyes met his. She opened her mouth, eyes wide when a glint of metal caught Azrael’s attention. A searing pain erupted as Kord sliced his sword across Azrael’s thigh. A ball of fire smacked into his chest as the cyclone launched him across the yard.
Azrael blinked at the wisps of clouds floating overhead, struggling to breathe, the rough cobblestones digging into his back. His chest burned and blood ran through his fingers as he clutched his leg.
“Az!” Kord sprinted over, placing his hand on the wound. A tingle of warmth radiated through Azrael’s thigh and shadows fell over him, blocking out the sky. Amycus and Flynt knelt next to him while Vale apologized profusely. Aura, Delmira, and Kenz looked on in surprise.
“Blast it, that hurt,” Azrael groaned.
Amycus chuckled and helped him to a sitting position. “Thankfully, the dirt in the cyclone extinguished the fire.” He looked over Azrael’s body, his leather chest piece scorched by the flames. “What caused you to lose focus?”
Azrael’s eyes flitted to Kenz, and her cheeks reddened. He swallowed. “Just tired.” Kord removed his hand and the pain in Azrael’s leg vanished.
“I think that’s enough training for now,” Amycus said.
Vale whispered to Slater as they walked back to the cottage. “Did you see that? How fast he moved, the vaulting? Amazing.”
Azrael dusted himself off, frowning at his bloodstained pants. He didn’t understand why his magic behaved the way it did when Kenz was near or why the sensation continued to intensify, but he needed to figure it out soon; otherwise, she would get him killed.
The Desert Garrison resided on a hill, a stronghold of shadows against the setting sun. Guards patrolled the tall stone wall and in front of the portcullis blocking the entrance bordering the Desert of Souls. Azrael, Flynt, and Kenz hid behind a dune, timing the guards’ rotations.
“There’s a separate entrance to the medical facility on the west side of the compound, with guards posted inside and out,” Azrael said, motioning to the stone wall.
Kenz pointed to a long, rectangular structure. “What’s that building over there?”
“Edgefield Prison.” Azrael kept his eyes fixed on the garrison, feeling Flynt’s and Kenz’s stares.
“How many?” Flynt said.
“It can hold up to a hundred prisoners but hasn’t been at full capacity in a while. I don’t know how many Spectrals are in there now.”
Flynt flexed his hand, his ignitor visible on the inside of his wrist. “We need to free them.”
“That’s not part of this mission,” Azrael said, edging back from the dune. Freeing the Spectrals added complications to an already risky mission—destroying Drexus’s worksite and getting out alive was challenging enough. He didn’t want the responsibility of extricating the captives as well as protecting the lives of his team.
He had never worried about his fellow Hunters during raids; he’d only cared about himself. Now all he could see was Tillie hugging Kord, threatening him if he didn’t return home, and the anxious look on Amycus’s face as he sent them off.
Back at the campsite, Flynt told the others about the prisoners, suggesting they split up and rescue the Spectrals. Azrael argued with them, but when he was outnumbered, he finally gave in.
“Fine, you win,” Azrael said. He reformed his strategy, studying the map of the garrison and prison and locating the easiest ways in and, more importantly, out. His breath froze in the air and he pulled his cloak closer. “Once you get them out, you’ll want to cross the desert at its narrowest section. The prisoners will have magic-suppressing collars and won’t be much help if a fight breaks out.” Azrael tapped at the best location, nodding to Kord. “You’ll lead that group; they’ll probably need your magic the most once you’re clear. Aura, Delmira, Kenz, and Slater will go with you. I need Flynt to blow up the site.” He pointed to Vale. “And you will stay here. If anything goes wrong, we need you to alert Amycus.” Vale opened his mouth to argue but snapped it shut at Azrael’s glare.
Kenz squared her shoulders. “I’m going with you and Flynt.”
“Still don’t trust me?” Azrael said.
“Kord doesn’t need two Shields.”
“Flynt and I don’t need a Shield.”
“You have no idea what you’ll find in there. I can protect you both and fight.”
Azrael rubbed his hand down his face. He was running out of excuses. Strategically, she was correct, but he couldn’t allow what occurred in the courtyard to happen during the mission, and he hadn’t figured out how to block her magic from interacting with his. It could get them both killed.
Azrael crossed his arms. “Then, I’ll take Delmira.”
Kenz narrowed her eyes, anger hiding the hurt that flashed across her face. “I’m the stronger fighter and you know it,” she said, poking him in the chest.
Azrael stared at her finger and ignored the shiver that ran down his back. He grabbed her wrist. “I’m leading this operation and I won’t have my orders questioned.”
Kenz twisted her arm out of his grasp, her face turning red. “You’re acting like a stubborn mule.”
Someone gasped. Kord and Flynt stepped closer, and Slater swore under his breath.
Azrael’s nostrils flared. “And you’re behaving like a childish fool.”
“Give me one good reason you’d pick Delmira over me.”
Delmira chewed on her lip. “I’m fine going with—”
Azrael raised his hand, cutting her off. “I don’t have to give you a reason.”
“Because you can’t.”
Azrael inhaled and counted to ten, fighting the urge to grab Kenz and shake her. A wolf howled and a breeze blew dead leaves across the ground. He counted to ten again; Kenz waited with her arms crossed.
Azrael closed the distance, trying not to get lost in her mesmerizing eyes or the way their magic wove together. “You will do as I say. Is that clear?”
He turned on his heel, his teeth grinding at her satisfied smile, and walked to the other side of the campsite. So far, this mission wasn’t going as planned. The team was splitting up, and the one distraction he’d tried desperately to avoid was now going with him. He really hoped his luck would change; he’d already lost two battles and they hadn’t even left the campsite.
They waited until just before dawn when the nighttime guards rotated with their early morning replacements. Azrael looked to the east, where the stars twinkled in the midnight sky—another sunrise, and some of his team might not live to see it. He had grown fond of this group in the short time they’d trained together, especially Kord and Kenz. He didn’t want to dissect his growing attraction for Kenz, not entirely sure what to do or how to stop it; and her brother, with his warm smiles and forgiving nature, was becoming a genuine friend, something Azrael hadn’t experienced since he was young. Azrael stared into the distance, squeezing and relaxing his fists, battling the worry swirling in his gut.
Gravel crunched under boots. “Couldn’t sleep?” Kord said.
“Never can before a battle.” Azrael glanced once more to the horizon and turned to see Aura and Kenz sliding on their armor and Delmira fiddling with her gauntlets. Flynt placed the compact bombs he had made into his bag and double-checked his wrist ignitors. Slater talked quietly with Vale, placing a reassuring hand on the teenager’s sagging shoulder.
Azrael strode toward his gear, sheathing his swords and dagger and quickly tying back his hair. He caught Kenz staring at him, a flush in her cheeks, and his stomach tightened, unsure what that look meant.
They circled around the smoldering fire, looking to Azrael. But he wasn’t one for long, encouraging speeches. “Wait for our signal. Be smart, watch each other’s backs, and get in and out as quickly as possible.” Azrael’s eyes met Kord’s in a silent plea. “And stay alive.”
The woods behind the compound came to life as green flames slithered like serpents between the trees and devoured the dry brush along the ground. Flynt joined Azrael and Kenz, a hungry smile on his flushed face, as shouts rang out and soldiers ran to the edge of the forest, leaving one to stand watch while the fire blazed closer. Azrael felt the tug of his magic and disappeared into the void, appearing behind the unsuspecting soldier and quickly snapping his neck. He scanned the area, the smoke making his nose twitch. Kenz’s and Flynt’s silhouettes were black against the flames as they sprinted across the clearing.
Kenz readied her shield while Flynt melted the lock on the door. In the distance, the soldiers’ shouts competed with the roar of the fire engulfing the trees. Azrael pulled his dagger from its sheath and focused on the hum of his magic, ignoring the way it called to Kenz, who glanced at him and frowned.
Azrael pushed the door open and swore. Bronn lay unconscious, strapped to a table with tubes sticking out of his arms and legs. They were too late; the Hunter had already received the serum. Drexus’s head shot up, surprise followed by anger flashing across his face. He barked orders for the guards to attack while his assistant squeaked and ran to the other side of the table. Azrael used his Amplifier magic and sprinted across the room to dispatch three guards, who crumpled to the ground. The remaining soldier escaped into the central area of the compound. Kenz threw her shield around Bronn and Drexus while Flynt ran to the far side of the room, already retrieving the bombs from his satchel.
“We don’t have much time,” Azrael said over his shoulder as he strode to the assistant. Drexus yanked the tubes out of Bronn, and the Hunter’s eyes blinked open.
“Azrael,” Drexus growled, reaching for his sword; his hand grabbed thin air. The forgotten weapon lay near the open doorway.
Azrael pulled one of his swords from his back and pointed it at the assistant while monitoring Drexus, still trapped inside Kenz’s shield. “Where’s the remaining serum?” His voice sounded like liquid steel. The assistant yelped as Azrael flicked his blade across the man’s cheek. “Where is it?”
The assistant’s eyes darted to the corner, sweat and blood dripping down his face.
“Kenz, over there.” Azrael pointed to the other side of the room.
“You coward,” Drexus said, glaring at the man.
Azrael closed the distance, the assistant holding up his hands and stepping back into Kenz’s shield.
“Please, don’t, I—”
Azrael’s blade cut through the air, silencing him forever.
“No!” Drexus pounded on Kenz’s shield while Bronn struggled against his restraints, his teeth bared, hatred and pain contorting his face.
“Kenz, lower your shield,” Azrael said, his eyes flicking to where Flynt remained busy setting his explosives as smoke billowed from the far corner of the room. They were running out of time.
Azrael stalked to the table, his knuckles whitening on the shaft of his dagger, his sword pointed at Drexus’s chest. He glared at Bronn. “You left me to die, you traitorous snake. Should I return the favor?” Azrael drove the blade through the middle of Bronn’s leg, pinning him to the table. Bronn roared, gripping the hilt.
“Azrael, stop!” Drexus yelled, his face turning red.
“Do they know?” Azrael pressed the tip of his blade into Drexus’s chest. “About the king?” The anger churning under the surface bubbled to the top—the betrayal, the lies, the whippings. Thirteen years of brutality churned inside of Azrael as he glared at the man who had caused so much pain.
Drexus released a harsh laugh. “You would believe Amycus over me?” His eyes darted to Kenz, who was loading the remaining vials into her satchel.
Azrael’s hand tightened on his sword. “Did you kill the king?”
Drexus’s lip curled. Bronn panted, still trapped on the table. Smoke filled the room as Flynt’s fire melted the equipment, the assortment of chemicals setting off minor explosions.
“Hurry!” Flynt yelled. Kenz ran to the exit, using her shield to block the main entrance.
Drexus snarled. “You’ve chosen the wrong side, boy.”
“I don’t think so.” Azrael pushed Drexus into the counter and pressed the sword tip deeper into his chest. Blood stained his tunic.
Flynt’s green fire coiled up the back wall. The air rippled in the intense heat, and Bronn’s eyes widened as flames crawled up the legs of the exam table. Bronn ripped the dagger free, his yell echoing through the smoke, and sliced the remaining restraints. He rolled off the table and crumpled to the ground, the bloody dagger skimming along the floor.
“I want answers,” Azrael said. He lifted Drexus off his feet and pushed him back until the fire ignited his cloak. “Did you kill the king?”
Drexus grabbed Azrael’s wrists, his face turning red. Bronn crawled away from the flames toward Drexus’s sword as guards pounded against Kenz’s shield.
“Azrael, let’s go!” Flynt yelled. Smoke obscured the exit.
Drexus’s mouth curved into a smile. “You want answers?” he croaked. He released Azrael’s wrist and reached back, submerging his hand in the blaze.
Azrael loosened his grip, transfixed on the flames that swirled through Drexus’s fingers.
Green fire shifted into black.
“No,” Azrael whispered, stumbling. It couldn’t be. The fire clung to Drexus like a lover. His arms rose and the flames immediately obeyed; a blaze of curling fingers reached for Azrael. Drexus smiled and shot a fireball at Kenz, who leaped to the side. Her shield vanished and soldiers filed in with swords drawn. Bronn leaned against the wall, the color drained from his face and his eyes shining with surprise as he watched the black flames shift into living shadows. Explosions burst from the back of the room as soldiers formed a barrier between Azrael and Drexus. Azrael choked on the smoke-filled air, sweat running down his face and back.
For thirteen years, Azrael had obsessed over the Spectral who had killed his mother and sister. All this time, it was the man who trained and groomed him to rule by his side.
His entire body shook with rage as the Angel of Death broke free, desperate for blood. Soldiers cried out. Blood spattered the walls.
Azrael’s sword was shadow and death, slicing down the guards who stood between him and vengeance. He swung his blade at Drexus’s head, but instead of the sound of severed flesh and bone, metal clanged.
Bronn sneered, blocking Azrael’s sword; the serum had already transformed the Hunter, infusing him with the Amplifier magic. Azrael used his strength and slammed Bronn into the burning exam table. Instruments crashed, disappearing into the black flames that slithered on the floor and walls.
Drexus waved his hand, maneuvering the firestorm away from Bronn. “You’re just like your mother. Lisia chose Amycus over me, too, a decision that cost her dearly.”
“Don’t you dare speak her name,” Azrael growled, reaching for his second sword and glaring at the man who took everything from him.
“I thought I whipped that sentimental nonsense out of you,” Drexus snarled.
Azrael charged forward, but an impenetrable wall of heat blew him back. Drexus smiled through the black flames.
“Azrael!” Kenz’s voice broke through his rage, her shield glowing brightly as soldiers flooded in and recoiled from the smoke. Flynt used fire and steel as he battled with the guards trying to enter through the back entrance. Azrael swore. Flynt’s bombs would explode any second.
“Now you die,” Azrael said. With one last look at Drexus, he sprinted toward the exit, slashing through the remaining guards like paper. They cleared the door and were halfway through the clearing when the explosion launched them forward. Azrael hit hard, using the momentum to roll to his feet. Fire engulfed the compound as soldiers ran from the other side of the building.
“We need to go,” Flynt said as more soldiers advanced.
Azrael saw Drexus through the inferno, a cocoon of flames protecting him and Bronn from the blast.
Flynt grabbed Azrael’s arm. “Azrael, now.”
Azrael looked over his shoulder, his teeth bared. Flynt backed away, eyes wide, hand gripping his sword.
Kenz shook her head. “Azrael, no.”
Azrael faced the compound and the man who had turned his life to ashes. The Angel of Death stalked toward the approaching soldiers, succumbing to the darkness that seduced him like a greedy lover. Hatred and destruction defined him and unleashed the monster within, his lust for blood consuming all thought, all reason. He commanded his magic to obey, felt the tug, and vaulted.
Guards dropped with each violent slash of his swords, falling at his feet and leaving carnage in his wake. Blood and gore covered him. With every kill, darkness penetrated his soul.
Kenz yelled his name, but he didn’t care, he couldn’t stop. He lost himself in the killing, his magic drowning in blood.
Indigo light wrapped around him, halting his attack.
“We need to leave!” Kenz’s hands were raised, her eyes pleading. Flynt stood by her side; his knuckles were white on the hilt of his sword.
Dead soldiers spread out before Azrael, and through the smoke and flames, a silhouette loomed, surrounded by black fire. A guttural roar tore through Azrael, the revenge he craved within his grasp.
He glared over his shoulder. “Drop the shield.” His voice dripped with malevolence. Kenz slowly shook her head. She used her shield to drag him away from the compound and another squadron of approaching soldiers. Azrael’s feet gouged the blood-soaked ground as she pulled him back.
Azrael yelled, slashing the impenetrable wall with his swords. Kenz winced and blood dripped from her nose. He dug into his remaining strength, drawing from years of pain, and pounded against the shield. With a cry, Kenz fell, the indigo barrier disintegrating. Azrael trudged through the slain bodies toward Drexus, vengeance so close he could taste it.
Blinding pain dropped him to his knees, and stars flashed in his eyes as Flynt struck a second time with the hilt of his sword, sending him into oblivion.