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I’m coming, Valen.

My rings flare, a risk I have no choice but to take. My threads shoot down like an arrow, shattering the glass below my feet. Shards rain down with me, the world slowing, and I stare unblinkingly at the man below me. He’s just starting to tilt his head back when my threads spear him. My lips curl back. Using my momentum, my threads drive down through him from skull to taint, hitting the ground and slowing my descent.

My boots hit the weaver, his body crumpling under me in a sickening crunch. I land in a crouch, ripping my threads clean from the foundation and body. I crack them towards the other weavers, but they’re well trained and recover from the shock quickly enough to dodge. I manage to injure one, though not enough to slow him down.

I throw my hand towards the door. My threads shoot out, wrapping around the handles and weaving along the stone to seal out anyone outside.

Crackling stings my ears, and I drop down, barely missing the magic that curls the ends of my hair, the sharp smell wrinkling my nose. I don’t have much time to dodge the next attack. The advancing weaver is practically on top of me with his fist drawn back. Eyes flaring, I watch his arm ripple with power as he punches down. Hastily, I weave a shield with my threads, but even so, his blow nearly knocks the wind from my lungs, and my teeth clench.

I throw my shield up, knocking him off balance, and slam my elbow into his knee. His nose crunches satisfyingly under my fist, blood spraying down on me. The man falls to his side in a crumple, and I’d give anything for one of Emilia’s blades. Making do with what I have, I grab the tiny knife the size of Tori’s index finger that I keep in the lining of my boot and bury it in the weaver’s eye with enough strength to puncture the brain.

Two down. A shit ton more to go.

A roar has me rolling out of the way, and I have no choice but to abandon my blade. I barely scramble to my feet before I’m quickly shuffling back to dodge blow after blow, each strike that misses me hissing with power. No way in fuck am I letting those fists touch me. I learned that lesson the hard way from fighting Alasdair. My rings are hot, stinging my fingers in a warning that they need more time to cool down. I’m forced back and back until arms wrap around my chest.

Oh, fuck that. I throw myself back, kicking my feet up to slam them against the advancing weaver, my threads pulsing in my muscles to send him airborne, but the one behind me barely bends backwards. His arms tighten, and I gasp, flexing to keep him from crushing me. My threads weave under his arms, my flesh sizzling until my vision flashes with the pain. My threads rip outwards, breaking his hold, and I grab him, twisting and throwing him. He hits the ground hard, and I have just enough time to stomp his throat to keep him down a little longer before I’m stumbling back again to dodge another attacker.

Anytime now, Emilia, I snarl in my head, my rings burning hot as threads weave around my forearms like bracers. All I can do is block, this weaver even faster than the last. In a panic, I realize another attacker is advancing, magic crackling along his form. My heel hits the wall. A fist cracks into my jaw, sending me spinning. I don’t go far. My skull hits the stone wall, a few vines padding it just enough to keep me from knocking out completely. I go down in a deadweight. Blood dribbles from my mouth, and I spit out a molar. Nora is going to be so pissed when she has to grow me yet another one.

Luciana’s smug voice fills the temple as a boot pins my head to the ground. “Magic-thieving scum where they belong. When my son ascends to be a god, he’ll wipe you all out.”

I laugh, because what else am I going to fucking do? “Funny, he promised the Guild the same thing about you bluebloods.”

“Playing simple-minded fools. Ryan, crush his skull. I want his insides to be the first sacrifice for our new god.”

The pressure increases, and I gasp, my rings flaring before another weaver stomps on my hand. I cry out, rings pulsing, the threads lining my bones to keep from being completely crushed. But fuck, I’m pinned like an insect for observation.

Then a weaver gasps, and the one pinning my head down stumbles. I grin as Luciana and her cronies tremble, some of them trapped mid-transformation. Luciana holds the clawed harpy hands she favors before her, panting as they’re forced back to human hands. Sunspots and wrinkles form, her hair streaking gray.

I smile pleasantly. “I believe you remember Emilia.”

Luciana whips around, and a knife buries itself in her shoulder. She cries out, stumbling back and buckling to the ground.

I don’t waste the opportunity since I have no clue how long Emilia can hold them. I surge forward, my threads exploding out in long arcs of death, my fingers blistering, but I don’t care. The weavers stuck mid-transformation are easy. Just like Dimitar.

Emilia crouches down and grabs Luciana by the neck, heaving the older woman up enough so their faces nearly touch. A long blade touches Luciana’s throat, and she hisses, “This is from my mother, you wretched creature. We know you hastened Gildra’s demise. We’ve always known.”

Despite the blade in her body and the knife at her throat, Luciana laughs. “You have no proof. That’s just a story from grief-stricken fools.”

“That’s the great thing about knives. They don’t care about proof.” Blood sprays forth, painting Emilia’s peaceful face red as she slowly drags the blade across Luciana’s throat. “You’ll never find peace in the Tapestry. I’ll ensure it.”

The blade rips free and Emilia releases Luciana with a thud. I pause with the last weaver in a chokehold, my jaw dropping, as Valen’s sister hacks off Luciana’s ring-covered hand. “Damn. Remind me to never get on your bad side,” I mutter and snap the weaver’s neck.

Emilia only smiles as her long nail pierces the air in a hail of bright sparks. She drags down, like she’s ripping reality a new asshole, and slides Luciana’s hacked-off hand into it before sealing it up. Emilia grins at the cooling corpse. “My mother has a little glass container for that hand. No one will be able to find it. This bitch’s flesh and bones will never all be burned.”

I nod like I’m not a little unnerved by her similarities to Astoria and make a note to tease Valen about it later, like when we’re all alive and this nightmare becomes a hilarious story.

Emilia rummages through Luciana’s clothes before withdrawing a key. She holds it up in triumph.

With a click, the iron releases easily, and Emilia tosses the restraints far away. Valen’s freed arms hang weakly at his sides, but he doesn’t wake up. I make it all of ten seconds before I ask, “What now?”

Emilia’s throat works. “Now we wait.”

My head swivels between her and the mirror. “Can’t you go in after him?”

She goes even paler, a sheen of sweat glazing her face. Her voice is smaller. “I don’t know how.” Her blue eyes glisten when they meet my gaze. “My brother will come back. I trust in him.”

I nod and glance down at Valen before kneeling beside him. I whisper low for him, “Give him hell, V.”