Nikolai

The battlefield was silent at last.

I stood over the body of Cyrus, my sword still dripping with his blood, my chest heaving with the effort of the fight. He had died with hatred in his eyes, his lips curved in a snarl even as the life faded from them. Demetrios lay nearby, his ancient body broken, his dark eyes finally closed. The war was over.

I turned, my gaze finding Lorelei through the smoke and carnage. She was standing a few feet away, her face streaked with tears and blood, ...