A Court of Souls and Shadows

48. Raven

The salty scent of the sea overwhelmed my senses as I beheld the battlefield. A vast, grassy plain stretched to the shore, Hybern's soldiers planted a mile inland. He had chosen his battlefield well. Hybern's army was a foreboding sight - the vast black mass spreading across the eastern horizon. Rocky foothills arose at their back, some of Hybern's soldiers stationed atop it. They had the high ground and the clear advantage. Our group lingered atop a broad hill overlooking the battlefield - preparing for what was to come. Our time had run out. Azriel squeezed my hand in his, and I looked up. His eyes shone with emotion, and I swallowed down everything I'd planned on saying. "No," I whispered instead. "No goodbyes." Azriel nodded solemnly, pulling me to his chest one last time, placing a gentle kiss to the top of my head. I forced myself to let go and squared my shoulders, sending him one last lingering look before taking my place beside Cassian in the Illyrian ranks. Azriel and Cassian shared a look, before Azriel took his place beside Feyre. It would be his job to ensure she made it to the Cauldron in time to deactivate it. If Rhysand went with her, they'd draw too much attention and never make it. Azriel was the only choice. My heart ached to be separated from him, especially as it could be the last day we had together. There were no guarantees that we would all make it out of this. I had made my promise once again that morning, after waking up in his arms. No self-sacrificing bullshit. But even I didn't know what the day would bring. None of us did. And it was that unknown that truly terrified me, more than anything.

My attention snapped to the front lines of our joint forces, where Helion belted out commands. He was magnificent, the sun shining down on his golden armour and red cape, billowing behind him in the wind. The army shifted, taking their positions, shields snapping into place. This was it.  The army we faced was ready and waiting. Still, but poised. Ready to attack. I swallowed down my emotion as the Illyrian ranks took to the sky, shields of every colour overlapping as weapons were drawn. I unsheathed both swords from my back, Winter and Night, and steeled my nerves. The army below settled into neat, solid lines, mirroring our own. A legion of Thesan's Peregryns flapped into rank beside the Illyrians, their golden armour glinting in stark contrast with our own. I looked down at our joined ranks, each court clearly represented by the differences in armour. Summer, Winter, Day, Dawn and Night. There was still no sign of Autumn or Spring. It would have to be enough.

All at once, each High Lord unleashed their magic. Hybern's armies flared their magic back in response, and shields on both sides begun to falter. I reached forward with my power, feeling for weaknesses in the wards surrounding Hybern's army. The shields buckled under the constant onslaught of magic from our side, and my lips tugged up into a smile as an opening formed. I forced my magic through, ripping the shield wide open and taking down hundreds of soldiers in the front lines in one fell swoop. As if in answer, Hybern's archers snapped into action, their arrows racing through the skies. The Illyrians locked into a new formation - one I hadn't been shown - surrounding me as the arrows smashed into their shields - both physical and magical. The volley of arrows ceased, and the Illyrians parted, readying for our descent.

Suddenly, the ground shuddered, the grass beneath us blackening as it turned to ash. A cloud of darkness appeared before the front lines of our army, writhing and whirling on itself. A male figure appeared from within the smoke and I gasped at the sight unfolding below. Both armies seemed to pause with surprise. For standing before Hybern were the Bone Carver and the living nest of shadows that was Bryaxis. "Fucking hell," Cassian swore under his breath from beside me, his body shuddering at the sight of Bryaxis.

The Carver had chosen the form of an Illyrian soldier, his power barely contained within the hulking frame of the warrior. Bryaxis remained within the darkness roiling around it, a living shadow that would reveal itself as the worst nightmares of its enemies. The two figures seemed to take a breath - a mighty inhale that had Bryaxis's dark cloud contracting. Readying to attack. At that moment, another figure appeared from darkness. The Carver stumbled back a step. The slim female figure with flowing dark hair and a beautiful face could only be one person. Stryga- The Weaver. The Carver's sister.