"What is he talking about?" R'lissea asked, lifting me into her arms. Wings sprouted from her back. "Fyren, what does he mean you haven't died? I thought no demon could die."
"I told you to leave," Fyren growled, taking his sword in both hands. "And you, death demon, have known too much. I thought my soul was well-enough shrouded, but I suppose you've managed to catch a glimpse. Count yourself lucky it was only that; else I'm afraid just killing you would be too simple."
I thanked the stars when R'lissea finally listened, leading the Fatesworn in a full retreat. We flew toward the distant walls of High Valley, a hundred of the Nightwatch joining us as they left their watches behind. Somewhere ahead, Borealis screeched, flying toward us. It must have been Fyren who had called, because I felt others of the Fatesworn gathering, preparing to reinforce the walls.
