Valkyrie's Sacrifice (Academy of Immortals 3)

The boat heaves in the choppy, stormy waters. Waves pound over the deck. As Marshal and I emerge from our room, it becomes obvious there is no turning back. It was like a magnetic force swirled on the riverbed, drawing us closer and closer into the storm. It’s obvious from the electricity in the air, and the slow shift of reality, that we’re in the fifth circle, which means that Agis is somewhere either in this storm or out there causing it.

“I don’t like this,” Marshal says, grimacing after another slash of lightning cracks through the dark sky. “How do we even find him in a monsoon like this?”

The boat continues to draw closer to the center of the storm and there are a few moments where I’m not sure the boat we’re traveling on is going to make it. The hull whines and the wooden boards creek. The sail shreds to tatters, the wind sharp enough to cut like talons. Marshal and I are thrown back and forth, his strong arms wrapped around me, determined to keep me close. Never have I been so afraid. Not back when I fought for Odin. Not in the battle with the Morrigan. Not in the arena as I started to bleed to death. The energy of the storm is wild, kinetic. My brain feels like it might explode. I cling to Marshal, wind and rain lashing against my face. Wondering if this is how it ends. Is this how we die?

Despite my fears and the turbulence, the vessel continues forward, gliding with a singular path. There’s no escaping this circle and just when I think Lucifer and the gods plan on us drowning at sea, the oddest, most disturbing thing happens.

We sail into the eye of the storm. One minute we’re under the full assault of wind and rain, the next gliding through calm, clear skies. A ring of gray, furious clouds surround us, with a blinding blue sky above. The boat actually seems to stop, as through an anchor has been dropped. It only takes a moment to realize that despite the weather, we’re not in a land of peace.

We’re in a literal circle—a ring, surrounded by the storm. In the center is a small island made of pale sand. The only thing on it is a tower—similar to a lighthouse; tall with a balcony circling the top. A shadow passes over the tower, a shadow created by viscious black wings. They’re attached to a man caught in the throes of battle, a massive sword in his deadly hands.

My breath catches in my throat as I recognize the cut, bulging muscles of my winged lover soaring through the sky. Beneath him is an army of demons crawling from a gaping hole in the water’s surface, each one uglier and deadlier-looking than the last. Agis fights the swarm, like a mortal swatting at flies. At first, I’m unsure what he’s doing, but it becomes clear that he’s protecting the tower from the water demons. What’s so important to him that he’s become a mad fury of cutting, slicing, beheading and gutting?

Once they’re dead, murky, dark blood colors the water and by an invisible force, maybe the one that pulled our boat into the eye, drag the dead back from where they came. Despite his victories, Agis rages; his howls piercing my soul, never wavering, just resuming his bitter fight.

I stand on the deck where I can feel him, the cord between us wound round and round. I know that Agis doesn’t need a ring to feel bound to me. I realize now that’s not what they’re for. They do help keep the immortals grounded to reality, breaking the spell of the circles. The ring on my finger—one I’ve always worn, is how I’ve stayed focused and alert this whole time. It’s how the Immortals, once they wear them, are immune to the dangerous fantasies of this realm.

Agis isn’t wearing a ring and it’s clear he’s fully lost to Lucifer’s tricks.

“How do we get to him?” I ask. Marshal’s fingers link with mine. “None of you recognized me when I entered the circles and with that level of rage, I’m pretty sure I’ll be dead before I can even get the ring out.”

Marshal’s jaw tics. “I could try to distract him.”

“Did you suddenly sprout wings?” As if to make a point, Agis soars through the air, swooping down to pull a demon out of the water. Even from this distance I hear the snap of his victim’s spine. In the next instant, he’s gutted another, intestines slipping into the water. He may be the physical incarnation of a hurricane. “No offense to your fighting skills, but I’m pretty sure he’d slaughter you first.”

Marshal sighs, the bravado he constantly wears slipping from his face. “We’re out-classed, Hildi. On a good day, Agis overpowers us, but here? I don’t know what we can do.”

If I hadn’t been looking over his shoulder at that very instant, I wouldn’t have had an answer. But I am, and I watch as a second boat is pulled into the eye, and I smile when I spot the passengers, wet and battered, emerging onto the deck.

My stomach twists, and I squeeze his hand.

“I think our odds just got a whole lot better.”

The other boat is half the size of ours, and it looks like it sustained damage in the storm, but just seeing my friends, lovers, and allies alive makes my heart swell.

Armin doesn’t wait for the board that is placed between the two ships to get secured, he takes a flying leap, landing on the deck and pulling me into a massive, bone-crushing hug.

“We agreed—no leaving.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell, him, nuzzling my face in his neck. “I had to work some things out—alone.”

“Or work someone out,” Elizabeth says, crossing over with dainty footsteps. She smiles at Marshal and he grins in return. I probably should keep those two apart.

“How did you find us?” Marshal a

sks.

Rupert tosses him the book, then scoops me into his arms. “Dylan sent us a message in the book. Luckily, you left that behind. It also didn’t hurt that Hildi left enough of a trail for us to follow.”

I frown. “What kind of tracks?”

“The burning village was a pretty big ‘Hildi has been here’ signal,” Luke says, walking up and not quite looking at me. Is he mad? Did I do something to piss him off?

“You do have a way of leaving destruction in your wake,” Rupert says, kissing me under the ear. “Especially when you’re with Marshal.”

A roar sounds from where Agis continues to fight, his body never seeming to tire. Armin swallows and nods at him. “I’m afraid to ask.”

“Welcome to the fifth circle,” I say. “Anger, rage, violence. Right here on the Devil’s playground, the River Styx. Seems fitting for the God of Death, don’t you think?”