A Bloody Crown

Chapter 25: Battle

Regardless of how infuriated I was the night before, I understood now. Understood as I stood next to Feyre and Mor, watching the battle from a vantage point. The Illyrians flew in perfect formation, Keir's Darkbringers marching below.

Knowing I'd be a flaw in that flawless armor.

As I watched Keir and his legion appear, Mor approached me, holding my hand tightly, knowing how it feels to be abandoned by him. She'd reminded me how little he meant in my life, how welcome I was regardless of his shunning of my grandmother.

Azriel and I'd talked the night before about him briefly as we walked back to camp, him giving me a friendly warning of Keir's appearance.

But as they marched, all I could feel was fear. Fear for Rhys, for Cassian, for the Illyrians, and for Azriel. My friend.

Though our army was fearless, cloaked in darkness and armed with starlight steel, Hybern's army was massive. Deep throngs of soldiers, likely some I'd seen in the King's palace that night, marched towards Rhys. 

I scanned the army for the King, praying to the Cauldron he wouldn't be there, begging for some relief. Thankfully, he didn't appear. Neither did Tamlin.

"SHIELDS," Cassian bellowed, breaking my thoughts, snapping my attention to him. The only distinguishing feature of him, Rhys, and Az were their gorgeous helmets- sharp raven's wings swept up to a point above their ears, elongating their features, giving them a terrifying appearance. And there they were, the front line.

As they donned armor this morning, with mine and Feyre's assistance, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever wear one. I'd strapped Cassian's and Azriel's swords across their backs, ensuring they were the appropriate compression. Their heavy gauntlets and armor seemed to absorb the sunlight, acting as a void for all things good.

And yet, that's what we were fighting for, I reminded myself, as they marched. Shields of blue, green, and red lit up amongst the Illyrians as they flew for war. Cassian led the left flank, slamming into Hybern, disorienting their lines, making way for the Darkbringers to cause chaos from within.

It was systematic, three or four steps forward, a blast, then a charge. Repeatedly, for hours. Step, fire, run. Exhausting to watch, terrifying to know your friends were down there. Really, some of the only friends you'd ever had.

Where the Hybern lines seemed impenetrable, one of the three would use their magic to shatter the formation, working their way in. And as the army began faltering, they began turning and running towards the river behind them, fleeing for their lives.

There was one commander, one I knew I'd seen, who refused. And Cassian chose him. Mor and Feyre were huddled together, whispering and shaking as they watched him run.

My jaw just fell open, watching him dance and work his way through lines, cutting people down like blades of grass. He traded his shield for a round one, one with better dynamics, allowing him to run. Somewhere, I heard Feyre compare it to a dance. That's precisely what it was- a symphony.

And when the commander threw a spear, Cassian deflected it fearlessly, and I could've sworn the battlefield paused at the sound of the impact. He sheathed his shield and sword, picked up a spear, and angled. Watching. Calculating a thousand thoughts a second. Putting his body behind every minuscule motion of the throw.

And as he threw his spear, my eyes left him, and turned to the cloud of shadows nearby, drifting closer in case things went south. Azriel was weaving and finding his way through Hybern's ranks via another realm, and he danced just as much. Gracefully, coolly, calmly.

Cassian was red, boiling hot rage, a supernova come to earth hellbent on destruction.

But Azriel was blue, a layer of ice from the depths of hell, leaving silent devastation in his wake.