Chapter 184: Son of Lyrielle

Seraphel

Draca laughed.

It rolled out of him low at first, then built into something loud and delighted, echoing off the broken sky above us.

"Now I see it," he said, tilting Kaevian’s stolen head to one side, studying me the way someone studies a curiosity they had not expected to find so entertaining. "A mere human, carrying power like this. Carrying that child, too." His eyes dropped, just briefly, to my stomach, and something in me went rigid with fury.

"Impressive. Truly." He smiled wider, and it was nothing like Kaevian’s smile at all now, nothing human left in it whatsoever. "But do not grow too attached to it, little vessel. That power will be mine. If not today, then soon enough."

He laughed again, and the sound of it swallowed everything else whole.

I dropped my gaze from him just long enough to look at my own hands, at the light still pouring from my palms, twisting and straining against his.

I had no idea if I was doing any of this correctly.

Castiel’s light had become mine the moment I broke through the first stage, but it still felt like holding a wild animal by nothing but instinct, something that could turn on me the second my grip slipped.

A fresh bolt cracked down toward my feet, and I threw myself sideways without thinking, the ground where I had been standing erupting into scorched black stone.

I scrambled upright and ran, my boots skidding across rubble that had not existed five minutes earlier, and another bolt clipped the wall beside me, close enough that heat licked across my cheek and the whole world seemed to shudder under the impact.

I dropped low, slid under a falling chunk of masonry, and came up running again, my chest heaving, legs burning each time I took a step.

A third bolt forced me into a wild, ungraceful backflip that left me sprawled hard on my shoulder, gasping, before I forced myself back onto my feet.

"Be safe my baby," I muttered under my breath, rubbing my stomach gently.

The attacks never stopped. Not once.

Every direction I turned, another bolt found me half a second later, herding me like prey.

I should have read the rest of the Chapter. I should have known what Draca’s weakness was, should have known how this fight actually ended, instead of skipping straight past it because I had been bored, because I had wanted to get to the parts with smuts instead of the parts that mattered.

No matter how far I ran, the lightning followed, and worse than that, no one else so much as twitched.

He had trapped every single one of them, and I could see it clearly now, the seven lords spread in a wide circle above the battlefield, their combined power holding that golden net locked in place around my family.

Draca had not come for any of them. He had come for me.

If I wanted to survive this, I would have to fight for myself first, and I could not beat a demon king alone.

I needed the others back on their feet, whatever it cost me.

Another bolt streaked toward me, and I slid hard to one side, breath tearing out of me in a ragged gasp, and stretched my hand toward Malachi’s frozen body instead of running again.

Castiel’s light was death to anything born of demon blood, and I had better control of it now than I had five minutes ago.

It was worth the risk.

I struck him square in the back with a burst of gold and blue, and did not wait to see what happened, throwing myself sideways to dodge another bolt before I could even catch my breath.

I skidded to a stop in front of Azriel next, still frozen, still straining uselessly against his bonds, and pushed the light into him the same way.

A heavy, dragging exhaustion settled into my bones almost immediately after, the kind that made my vision swim at the edges.

The light was taking more out of me than I had realized, pulling from somewhere deep and finite, and I could feel myself slowing down even as I forced my legs to keep moving.

"You useless fool. Do you truly believe your little powers could cancel my trap?" Draca burst into laughter, drifting closer through the air, the massive two-headed serpent coiling lazily around him as he walked across nothing at all, his hands never once lifting as another bolt of lightning tore free and streaked toward me regardless.

"I waited hundreds of years for my revenge against Elysium, and now I find the sins cozying up to the very gods who hate them."

He rolled his eyes, crossing his legs midair as though settling into an invisible throne. "How pathetic, all of you." He laughed again, and lightning cracked down at me from three directions at once.

Sweat ran cold down my back and dripped from my chin, my whole body trembling with the effort of staying upright.

My reserves were thinning fast, I could feel it, a hollow, scraped-out sensation spreading through my chest where the light used to sit so full and ready.

When I raised my hand to answer the next bolt, my fingers shook so badly I could barely aim, and the light that came out of me sputtered, thin and weak, nothing at all like before.

I could not summon it in time.

Draca’s lightning bore down on me, and I lowered my head, bracing for impact, every muscle in my body locking tight in anticipation of pain.

It never came.

Instead, a presence settled in front of me, solid and warm, carrying the scent of sandalwood and red lilies that had become as familiar to me as my own heartbeat.

Azriel. Which meant the light had actually worked.

He caught the bolt on his open palm, absorbing it whole without so much as flinching, then turned to face me. "Are you alright?" he asked, quiet and steady despite everything burning around us.

I let out a long, shaking breath and nodded, forcing myself to look past him, up toward the others still hanging frozen in the torn sky. "Since the light freed Malachi and you, I should be able to free the rest of them too." I raised my hand toward the figures above, even as my arm trembled with the effort of simply holding it up.

"Can you actually do this? Are you certain you are all right?" Azriel asked, his eyes searching my face for the truth beneath whatever answer I gave him.

I nodded again, steadier this time, even though nothing about me felt steady at all.

He held my gaze a moment longer before something in his expression hardened into resolve. "Then I will hold Draca off myself, for as long as it takes." He turned toward Malachi. "Stay with him. Get him to the others. I will handle this."

"Oh, it works!" Draca’s voice rang out, delighted, before either of them could say anything more. "The powers are every bit as remarkable as the prophecy claimed. It seems the prophecy has finally returned, and that boy has made me stronger simply by fighting me." He stretched his hands wide, lightning gathering bright between his palms. "Now I want his powers for myself."

Azriel stepped forward to meet him, both hands already flaring with deep red light, and Malachi moved to my side in the same instant, one hand closing firm around my arm.

"Be safe," I whispered, the words barely making it out before Malachi pulled me backward, the world beginning to blur and shift around the edges as he moved us away.

Behind us, I heard Draca’s voice carry clear across the battlefield, aimed straight at Azriel.

"Ah, little nephew. Son of Lyrielle." The name curled off his tongue like something savored. "My dear sister would be so disappointed in you, joining hands with the very realm that caused her death."