I snapped into action, fighting my way through the horde, trying to close ranks around us. Body memory guided my actions, as if I’d always known how to kill with the same sort of cold violence. As the goddess of fury, I’m sure I’d had plenty of practice, even if I couldn’t remember.
I smashed the hilt of my dagger into the frozen wolves, ignoring the chunks of bodies and bloodied meat that shattered with the ice. My body sung with power, with fury. But there was a limit—it felt like the wall that had been erected when Envy stole my magic.
The curse was still holding me back. For the first time, my anger at being purposefully kept in the dark overwhelmed my fear of learning the full truth. If we made it out of this fight, I silently vowed I would do everything I could to return to my true self.
Never again would I feel powerless or caged.
Snow started falling heavily, the already gray sky growing darker, more foreboding. If Wrath commanded snow and ice to do his bidding, it made sense that the underworld was a frozen tundra. His power could not be contained, so much that the very land bent to his will. I hoped it terrified our enemies. I wanted the realm itself to swallow them whole.
Wrath pushed forward, reaching the edge of the bridge right as more wolves dropped down from the Shadow Realm. The demon threw his powers behind him, freezing anything that moved other than me and his demon horses. Through the chaos of battle, I searched for my twin.
Vittoria had disappeared, but I felt her presence on the periphery. She was waiting. Whatever she had planned wouldn’t be good. I needed to get to her, convince her to stop, or incapacitate her myself. A wolf leapt, jaws snapping, and froze, crashing to the ground a foot from me. Blood splattered across my face. I didn’t stop to wipe it.
Behind me a whisper of movement drew my attention. I twisted, striking hard and fast at a wolf that went for Wrath’s back. It had come close. Too close. My fury bubbled deep within, threatening to boil over. I stayed close to my king, my rage a war beat that pounded in time with my heart. Wolves attempted to strike the demon, but either he took them down or I did. His horses growled to my right—biting and kicking their way through wolves.
On and on, it felt as if we fought for hours. Blood saturated the ground, my cloak soaking it up like an offering. I reveled in it, thanked it. I welcomed more.
More death. More rage. More vengeance. My blade glowed rose-gold under the blood staining it, drinking up the offerings I served it. We’d almost reached the center of the bridge when I heard a sound more terrifying than the werewolves and horses combined. It snarled and barked like a rabid dog. Several of them, actually.
Footsteps pounded, shaking the ground. At the edge of the bridge, coming from House Wrath, four mighty hellhounds paused. I swore under my breath. Wrath hadn’t been kidding when he’d called the hound I’d encountered in the Sin Corridor a puppy. It had been the size of a pony. These three-headed beasts were the size of elephants. Their ice-blue eyes flashed—and the wolves nearest them raised their hackles, their attention now split between Wrath and his attack dogs. The fight just got harder for the wolves and my twin. Thank the powers that be.
Without wasting another moment, the snow-colored hellhounds entered the fray. I watched long enough to see their pale fur splattered red with their kills, then resumed my own bloodbath. I focused on the blade in my hand, turning and striking like it was all some well-choreographed dance. The battle was the music, and death my skilled partner. All the while, vengeance pounded against my soul.
Wrath fought with the same fervor as when he’d begun, not looking close to being tired. The wolves couldn’t say the same. Some of them stumbled out of the way, thick white foam coating their muzzles, their chests heaving from exertion. Between the hellhounds, demon horses, and Wrath, victory seemed close. Imminent. I ducked as a wolf leapt over me, then slit its throat, its blood spraying my face and dampening my hair as it crashed to the ground.
“EMILIA!”
I turned at the sound of my sister’s bloodcurdling shout, unable to stop my first instinct to seek her out and protect. It was a mistake. The world went to hell from that one act of familial affection and humanity. A werewolf knocked me to the ground, its jaws snapping at my throat. Claws tore at my cloak, ripping the flesh of my chest, and I screamed.
Then the wolf was gone, yanked from me and tossed against the bridge so hard its neck and back cracked, loud enough to be heard over the fray of hell horses and hellhounds battling on. The wolf trembled once violently, then stilled. I exhaled and bit down on another yelp. The wound on my chest throbbed with each accelerated beat of my heart. The full pain hadn’t exactly hit yet—a result of adrenaline, no doubt. Though I did feel oddly light-headed.