Mathea scoffed, gesturing to the scene ahead. "I'd take boring over this any day. Honestly, I'm tired of fighting. When's the last time I had a proper meal?"
"You ate a few hours ago," Andrie said sharply. "I made sure you did."
"An apple doesn't count as dinner," she retorted, throwing her hands up. "Aren't you supposed to be some all-powerful warlock? Don't you have minions for stuff like this-someone to carry your sword?"
Andrie snorted. "Carry my sword? For what? You need to think before you speak, Mathea. Words matter. And since I don't have any minions with me right now, I'll handle everything-including you."
Mathea sighed in defeat. "There's no winning with you. Fine. But admit it, the situation looks bad." She tugged the front of his coat, her voice dropping. "We might not make it out this time, Andrie. When the worst happens, you'll need to leave me behind."
"They'll have to go through me to get to you," he replied, his tone as sharp as a blade.
"That's what I'm worried about," Mathea muttered, licking her dry lips. "I might not love your bossy attitude, but I don't want you to die either. We're cousins."
For a moment, Andrie just stared at her, emotions flickering in his dark eyes before vanishing.
"Your concern is touching but unnecessary," he said finally. "I won't leave you."
Warmth spread in Mathea's chest, only to be replaced by irritation when he added, "You need to toughen up."
"What the hell are you talking about?" she growled. "I'm the toughest witch you'll ever meet!"
A faint smile tugged at Andrie's lips, and she realized he was trying to distract her from her fear. It was the first time she'd seen him smile.
"To whatever bitter end, then," she said, half-teasing.
"It won't be bitter today," he assured her. "Not if I have anything to say about it."
Mathea smirked. "Now you're talking. Just remember-I'm the brains, you're the muscle. When I say charge, we charge. When I say run, we run. Stick to the plan, and we'll survive."
Andrie ignored her, his focus returning to the battlefield ahead. His eyes darkened, calculating their odds.
"Charge!" Mathea yelled, sprinting forward without looking back. "Come on, you stinking Elven cowards! No need to hide-I can smell you from here!"
She stopped abruptly as the dust cleared, revealing two rows of archers ahead. Seven men knelt in the front, arrows drawn, while five stood behind them with their bows trained on her as well.
"Oh, crap," she muttered. "They've got a formation. And there are thirteen of them-definitely a cult number."
Beyond the archers stood dozens of Elven mages, their white robes flowing as they chanted dark spells. Behind them, more guards blocked every escape route, swords drawn and claws extended. From the hills, the two-headed beasts charged down, their growls filling the air.
Mathea let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "All this for me? A bit overkill, don't you think?"
Andrie was suddenly beside her, his presence steady and unyielding. "What's your plan now?" he asked, though his wary eyes never left her.
"It's just us, cousin," she said quietly, her gaze fixed on the advancing army.
"This isn't the end," Andrie replied firmly.
Mathea grinned, her sharp teeth flashing. "Let's make it one hell of a fight, then."
"Whatever."
"Let's soldier on," Mathea said, her voice tinged with determination. "I really don't like those arrows. They hurt worse than fire."
The memory of an arrow embedding itself in her shoulder sent a shiver down her spine. Andrie didn't glance at her, but the fury in his eyes burned bright.
Without warning, he charged forward under the deep azure sky, his dark coat trailing in the wind. His twin blades gleamed with deadly intent, flashing in front of him as he slashed them through the air. Any arrows that came close to them would be cut down-she had seen him do it before. But wait-where had the second blade come from? She'd only ever seen him with the black sword.
Her cousin certainly knew how to keep secrets, and he was full of surprises.
Mathea followed after him, roaring in fury, but Andrie's roar was louder, a thunderous bellow that seemed to shake the hills, their jagged peaks standing silent witness to the battle. Even when they were gone, the mountains would remain unchanged.
An explosion shook the ground, drowning out the rest of her words and filling the air with the sharp scent of sulfur and smoke.
The earth beneath them rumbled as the clang of alarms rang out from every direction, making the chaos around them even more intense.
The dome-like building over a hundred yards behind them exploded, sending rocks, glass, and dust raining down, while a plume of smoke trailed into the dusky sky.
Ahead of the column of smoke, a pair of wings attached to a girl with purple hair surged forward. Her dark figure cut through the sky like a streak of shadow, moving with speed and grace that belied the chaos below. She flew with the elegance of a predator, her leathery wings slicing through the air and propelling her higher, as if they belonged to a creature out of legend. Arrows and the occasional flash of bullets whizzed past her, but nothing seemed to deter her flight. With an effortless roll, she dodged one arrow, then another, twisting midair in a way that looked more like a dance than a desperate maneuver. Two arrows came closer than the rest, their fletching almost brushing against her skin-until they rebounded off an invisible barrier that flickered briefly around her.
A shield. It was a cool trick, one Mathea had seen before but never mastered. A trick she could never pull off, no matter how many times she tried.
The girl was far now, high above the battleground, but even at this distance, Mathea saw her head turn. The crimson eyes gleamed with a glimmer of something playful, something taunting. For a second, Mathea thought she imagined it, but then she swore the girl winked at her. It was the same teasing wink she'd given Mathea when they first met, back when Mathea had no idea who or what the girl really was.
She scowled, her expression darkening as she hoped-against hope-that the girl could see it through the smoke and distance. She never liked people winking at her. Especially not her.
"I know that girl!" Mathea yelled, her voice raw from exertion, as she ran, each breath coming in sharp, ragged bursts. She didn't try to hide her frustration, shouting above the sounds of battle. "She spotted me last time during the clash between the Elvens and the witches at the mountain. She was with Anjo's crew, with his minions!"