The pain of the Prophet's spear was one I knew far too well. I didn’t let it slow me down. With Nash protected again, I counterattacked with the spear still in me, and managed to cut at least an inch into the Prophet’s arm before he stopped the blade with his power.

He ripped the spear free. I crossed the twin blades to slice at his throat, but the spear shot between them, catching the attack.

“Max!”

An arrow lodged into the Prophet’s chest just below his collarbone. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nash struggle with another arrow and lose it as he suddenly collapsed onto one knee.

My energy seemed to flow as quickly as the blood from my side. I wouldn’t come back this time if I died. There was no way I would fail.

I struck. He deflected. He jabbed. I sidestepped. With each passing moment, our powers waned, until we had to rely upon the blades of mere mortals.

My right blade cut through his forearm. His spear caught my thigh, ripping it open. The pain meant nothing to me. I’d felt so much in my life, had suffered so many times when I looped to my death repeatedly, that I easily ignored the draining of life and power.

I’d gotten so lost in the battle, I almost didn’t notice that the shield had entirely dissolved. The Prophet’s eyes snapped to Nash.

I defied all of my instincts and instead of protecting Nash, drove both blades forward into the Prophet’s gut. His eyes opened wide. Though his power had managed to stop the swords from driving in too deeply, both ends had disappeared in his body.

All my strength went into forcing those blades in deeper.

But instead of the blow taking the Prophet down, I felt his power suddenly swell.

Shit.

I ripped the blades free and jumped between the Prophet and Nash. How could I have forgotten how dangerous it was to kill one of us? The instinct to survive was powerful, especially for a man with his strength.

Blood oozed from his midsection, from the arrow still sticking out from his chest, and the slash against his forearm. He was dying and he wanted us to die with him.

I looked up to the stone ceiling above the Prophet's head. Hope flashed in my chest. If I could surprise him, maybe I could end this before he managed to do any damage.

My eyelids fluttered as I focused on pressuring the stone ceiling above his head.

The entire temple trembled with my power. My own desperation fueled me, so I could gather the remnants of my strength. Searing pain carved through every inch of my body like I was dying all over again.

Rock shook loose and sprinkled all over us. My eyes rolled back in my head. My body went rigid. Power exploded from my body.

I felt the rock give way. Slabs of carved stone right over the Prophet that dropped on top of him. The weight of it slamming against the ground echoed through the temple.

The weakness sapped the strength from my muscles and I collapsed, unable to even catch myself. My head whacked against the ground.

Dark spots popped over my vision. It was quiet.

Nash… What if I'd hurt him?

I moaned and turned my head, shutting my eye against the blood that slid down from my forehead.

Nash sat on his knees, eyes on me. Alive. I'd managed to protect him from myself.

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The Prophet…

My arms were useless. I focused to strengthen my muscles but the burning pain blinded me for a moment. The wound to my stomach screamed for my attention while the pain overextending myself with my power flooded my whole form.

Then came the sound of rustling and shifting beneath the pile of rubble.

Why wasn’t this damn Prophet dead yet? I pushed through the pain, crying out as I rose to my knees.

A heap of broken stone covered the place where the Prophet had stood. The slab on top was shaking. And then it slid away.

The Prophet crawled out from the rocks. Blood gushed from his nose and mouth and ears. Covered his hands and torn cloak.

He dragged himself forward with his inky eyes locked on me.

Nash pushed to his feet and limply walked for him.

"Don't…" I managed to rise. Of course, Nash didn't listen. We both struggled toward the Prophet.

I grabbed my dagger from my side. Dropped onto the ground before the Prophet.

He wheezed, clawing at the ground to pull himself away. "S-stop."

With shaking arms, I lifted the dagger above my head and drove it down for his throat. I sliced through half an inch before the Prophet's power curled around my fist, threatening to crush my hand.

The blade thudded to a stop.

Nash's long arms wrapped around me, his chest against my back, his blood hot and tarry against me. He clasped my hands and pushed the blade with me, forcing it another quarter inch deeper.

Nash's blood flowed down our fingers onto the blade and against the Prophet's neck.

All of my strength went into the blade. Nash's did too. I could feel it in his straining muscles. His shaking body. We both screamed and forced my dagger into the Prophet's throat.

A cry flowed out from the Prophet and wrapped around me like a physical force. As his life poured out, he surged in strength, and my throat felt as if it was being crushed by an unseen hand.

Blood gurgled from his open throat like a fountain.

I couldn’t let him win.

Wrenching the dagger free of his power, I drove it right into his mouth, skimming his cheeks. His eyes widened in terror and pain. I kept going until he gagged. Until the tip touched his throat and then I broke his will to plunge it through the back of his neck. With a snap, his power was gone.

The life fled the Prophet’s eyes.

He was dead.

Nash and I fell against one another. His bloody hands reached for my side. “How deep is it?”

“I don’t know.” I clung to him, eyes on the torn skin at his shoulders. “That’s too much blood–”

Nash met my eyes, opened his mouth to speak, and then his body went limp against me. His dead weight knocked to the ground.

“Nash…” I struggled to pull myself out from under him.

Listening, I heard his heart beating weakly. He'd just passed out. I had to get him to Piercey.

Before I could even try to move him, a streak of red flashed across the room.

A dainty form skidded to a stop in the middle of the room. Fucking Flare. She blasted the stone door with balls of fire. Two more blasts and one side popped free.

Her eyes caught mine briefly. She'd been here this whole time. Hiding.

“Coward,” I growled.

I kissed Nash's face and rushed for the door, gasping at the pain in my side.

Outside, Piercey still held off the entire army. Sweat doused his shirt. Flare was already dragging herself onto her horse.

"Max!" Bloodshot eyes found me.

I stopped and looked at the crowd. I needed to go after her, but first I had to put a stop to this.

"The Prophet is dead," I said.

The shouts lowered until it was silent. Shock contorted the faces of the villagers.

"He's dead,” I said. “His disciples are dead. Stop fighting. We aren’t here to hurt you. But we will if you attack us."

Weapons lowered. Piercey's body relaxed. Murmurings broke the silence. Warriors looked to one another. They would likely attack again, but for now, the confusion of having their leadership wiped out would buy us time, especially since most of them probably hated the Prophet.

"Nash needs help," I said to Piercey.

He looked to my side. “You do.”

“No time.”

Frustration flooded his face. He grabbed my arm to stop me from leaving and pressed his hand to my wound. It felt like he shoved lava into my gut. I bowed forward, falling against him as I screamed through gritted teeth.

“Sorry,” he said. “This is the best I can do for now. I cauterized your wounds and hit you with as much healing power as I could.” His hands closed over my temples. “I can’t give you my power, but I can calm your mind. It’ll help your own recover faster.”

This felt more like Piercey’s power, soothing, instead of painful.

“Stay here,” he said. “I’ll get Nash.”

Piercey ran into the temple and I sprinted for a horse. No one stopped me. The villagers were lost and stunned as I led the horse to the temple door. Piercey carried Nash over his shoulder, trembling from the effort. He must have used up all of his energy too.

Once we got Nash onto the horse, I handed the reins to Piercey. "Take care of him."

"Wait. I need to go with you.”

I couldn't wait though. There was no time and I needed him to save Nash. I focused on Flare, focused on peeling away the distance between us, on ignoring the pain and exhaustion so I could travel. As afraid as I was that I would lack the strength like I had in the temple, I quickly found the worry to be misplaced.

"Max!" Piercey yelled it in the moment I disappeared.