I launch myself over the overhang into the curved wall of the cave, sliding down on smooth-hewn rock. I hit the ground floor with a jolt and draw my sword for battle. Test my ankle; sprained maybe. But not broken.

I join Felicity against her bear. She pins it while I stab it through the chest. She takes a flying leap onto the back of Russ’s bear. I hack at its arm until it rears back, sending us tumbling. Russ grabs it by the middle and slams it into the rock wall so hard the entire cavern shakes. Rubble tumbles down on us from the ceiling.

“Try not to bring the whole damn thing down!” Whitty yells from where he’s fighting his own hellfox in a corner. He dispatches it swiftly, then turns toward us with a grin—

His body seizes into a single, rigid line.

Both daggers fall from his hands.

“Whitty?”

His eyes are wide, blank. His chest angles up. Toes drag on the ground, like he’s being lifted—

By the hand buried in his back.

“WHITTY!” I scream, frozen in place. The fighting rages on around us. We’re overwhelmed. The demon that was once Evan kicks at Whitty’s upper spine to free his hand. My friend falls forward, hitting the cave floor with a heavy thud, head twisted in my direction.

My heart stops, but I search for life.

I don’t find it.

Instead I see my friend’s unseeing eyes. The wrong angle of his shoulder. Blood on his favorite camo jacket. His jaw open to the dirt.

No one saw Whitty die but me.

I should have guessed that that fall wouldn’t have killed a greater demon.

I should have known.

Rhaz points at me with a bloodied claw. “That was very mean of you, Bree! Look at what you did!”

Two black ribs protrude from his chest, oozing green blood down his T-shirt. He doesn’t seem bothered at all.

I’m running, screaming, an arrow of hate. I’ll kill him. I’ll rip him apart—

“I’ll order these beasts to kill everyone here,” he snarls, stopping me short, “unless you tell Nick to accept Arthur’s Call and take up the blade.”

A wave of churning anger and fear comes over me, warring in my chest. All around me, there’s the clanging of aether weapons on hard isel hides. The roar and cry of battles.

“No.”

Rhaz hisses. “Have it your way.” He darts forward and strikes the blade from my hand. Twists my arm so tightly I scream and see spots. He yells something harsh and unintelligible—the language of demons. At once, every hellbeast stops. The Legendborn pause too. Stunned. Every time I try to move, the uchel squeezes harder—until I’m gasping for breath.

“Nicholas!” Rhaz yells.