Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78069 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
I am not looking forward to this, Wrath grumbled. He attempted to stand but was still too weak. Belleron crouched over his cherished and extended his sword as the men galloped towards them.
“He is the one that sent you to the underworld, yes,” Belleron grated, his hard gaze on the brother in the middle. His sky-blue robe flew out behind him on his easterly winds, the only parts of him visible were his tattooed hands and the determined grimace stretching his wide mouth. Zepharali Cavalerie.
Notalus was a couple paces behind him on the left, his emerald-green cape dragging the earth as he stood in his horse’s saddle, crouched in a perfect fighting stance. His hood was lying over the bridge of his nose as he wielded a Hwando sword in each fist.
The Lord of the North’s light flung his blizzard-white robe off one of his shoulders and drew a spear from behind his back that shone a brilliant gold before it extended five feet in his hand. It had been too long since Adres had laid eyes on his middle brother, Boraleashe.
Notalus dismounted his horse in mid-run and bolted into Adres’s arms. He and his baby brother had always been the closest. As the light guardian of the south winds, Notalus’s core radiated a warm comfort that matched his own. “Orestes. It was a relief to feel your wind again.” He leaned back and gripped him on his shoulders, his mossy-green eyes roaming his face. “Even your distressed one.”
“I can see this time you are prepared, brother.” Boraleashe eased off his pearl stallion with the grace of an angel, not like the seven-foot Titan that he was.
Though Adres was the oldest and more serious of all his brothers, even the lesser winds, Boraleashe was the most disciplined.
“It is your destiny.”
Notalus glanced towards the mountains where a shadowy figure fled in the opposite direction. “He must not escape this time, Orestes. You have what you need to defeat him. Your light is clearer and greater than it has ever been.”
Adres threw a protective shield around his friend—who looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but near Zepharali—as Belleron and Wick rushed Wrath into the house.
Adres stood amongst his brothers, harnessing the wind that bolted from their weapons. It’d been centuries since they’d fought together, even longer since Adres had wielded such strength. His body shook with the force to control it as he felt Macauley ease his righteous energy towards him. Adres gripped his sword, placing the cold steel to his lips and whispering the curse of death into the blade. He summoned a tornado with their collective powers that was so devastating that he struggled to contain it.
Notalus’s swords shimmered with bronze light, his words floating around him. “Steady, brother. We are with you.”
And my love is with you too, mate.
Warmth and goodness were pushed into his heart as a jolt of strength and courage hit his core. An image of Macauley’s growling beast flashed before his eyes, and Adres shot his sword into the mountains, sending all of his force and wind behind it.
His weapon tore through the trees towards the shade that had almost reached the territory border. Mere seconds went by before Adres felt his blade make contact. The twister ravaged the mountain, drilling through its core and taking his enemy down with it. To the Underworld.
Adres had lost this battle once because he had been alone. Because he had been outside of the order of the prophesy. He was not meant to go against the sorcerer that brings devastation to their species until he had been touched with love. And it had cost him over three hundred years.
But the prophecy was predestined by fate. Even if it was delayed a while, history had shown that it would always come to pass. She would always have her way.
Macauley pulled Adres into his arms as soon as he stepped through the front door of Justice’s home. His exhaustion was evident, but he stood strong against him with his arms around his waist.
I am okay, young wolf.
I know. I had no doubt that you wouldn’t be.
Adres turned his face into his throat and inhaled. I love you too.
Macauley squeezed him tighter, relieved that the battle was over but still crippled with fear for his sister.
How is she?
Orion is with her. He said the fairies gave him the ability to heal. Macauley’s hands trembled. He’s still working on her. It… it was a lot of poison.
Macauley felt Adres’s guilt and regret like acid in his stomach. He cupped his cheek and tilted his mate’s flushed face towards him. “Don’t. Do that.” He kissed him, lingering on his cool lips to soak up some of his comfort. “This wasn’t your fault.”
“She’s awake!” Ramon blurted, flashing into the entryway. “And she’s okay.”