“Where did she go?” I cried.
“Stay here,” Adomos ordered, a roughness to his tone. He sounded heavy, hoarse, almost angry.
My heart thudded in my throat as I ran to the fire. Adomos swept past me as I knelt and reached toward the heat. The hilt of the sword glinted, and closing my eyes, I whispered its name.
The hilt all but leaped into my hands and a hum of power rocked through me. Lifting the sword, I followed the glint of Adomos’s runes down the hill and into the gloom of the stone mountain.
Romulus and Takari called my name, but the roar of the sword filled me up, its will syncing with mine for nothing more than revenge. A hot hate throbbed within and I ran, using the glow of the sword to keep me from stumbling in the dark. I twisted through the passageways, not caring if we ended up lost in the unending tunnels with no way out.
As the darkness deepened, I was reminded of my time in the cavern with Adomos, and when a slice of moonlight filtered through, a sudden chill struck me. The tunnel sloped upward, coming to a stop at a gaping opening. A set of stairs led up. I took them two at a time, red sword in hand as I walked back outside.
The evening breeze blew, making the trees hum with song. Jezebel stood on top of the flat surface, a wide stone rooftop without a wall. With one push, or on the wings of a strong gale, one would fall down to the forest floor. A fall that meant instant death—a fact I took note of, but I was beyond the tug of fear and death, because of the sword.
Kill. Kill. Kill.The words repeated, driving me forward with an unearthly snarl. Jezebel backed away from my thrust, eyes wide. Adomos’s wings whirled as he moved behind Jezebel, trapping her.
She spun between us, unwilling to give up, unwilling to end it. Her lips curved upward. “Even I know when I’m beaten,” she said. “But the sword, you have that terrible sword.” She smirked. “My only wish to stay alive is so I can watch you destroy yourself and everyone you love, and become one of those haunted souls, unable to die and yet not willing to live. Ironic that you fight so hard against me when you only doom yourself.”
My mouth went dry as the words stung me like hot embers against my skin. But the voice of the sword was much stronger: bitter, evil, demanding bloodshed. I dashed for her, mouth open, an inhuman sound bursting from my lips.
Jezebel held up her hands and threw back her head. Her lips moved and just before I struck her, she burst into a pillar of blue flame. It was too late for me to pull back, too late for me to stop the upswing of the red sword. It sliced through the fire, and with it went my hand. A scream of pain tore out of me as my fingers came into contact with the flame. It was searing hot and brought tears to my eyes as my skin bubbled and burst with an agony I’d never experienced before. I’d thought the whip cutting through my flesh was pain, but this was much more. As I howled, she brought her head down to take in my pain, to draw one last blow as the sword sank into her chest. Her lips came back, exposing her teeth, a leering grin on top of a dead skeleton. Blood filled her mouth and dripped down her chin, but her fierce gaze held mine as my fingers peeled off the sword. The scream of horror as my flesh burned seemed to grow louder.
Behind me the forest shook and trembled, and a booming roar filled the air. The moonlight was swept away like the hand of a god had wiped it from the sky, replaced with dark clouds. The jagged edges of lightning cut through the sky and then, what looked like glowing eyes. Fear, pain, and horror twisted through me as I dropped the sword. The pillar of fire grew until it exploded with a boom, hurling me flat on my back. My head smacked down hard against the stone and I knew nothing more.
Chapter Fifty-One
When I regained consciousness,it was still dark outside. The moon had returned, yet there was an eeriness to its glow, a whitish red. I sat up, pressing my lips together to keep from crying out at the pain in my arm. My head throbbed dully. Adomos was on his knees, facing away from me. In the center of the stone platform were ashes, fragments of blood, scraps of blue and green. It was a sickening mess, a mutilated body. I turned my gaze away, but not before I caught the glimmer of the sword. Bile rose in my throat, but I forced myself to look back at the mess because it was shrinking. Even with the shadows and the moonlight, I clearly made out the smoking ruins of the body and the sword, taking it all, consuming death and magic.
I turned my back on it, aware of the warnings I’d ignored, the voice of the sword that hummed with a dark demand, a hunger. It wanted to feast on flesh and blood, and I’d given it exactly what it wanted.
“How does it feel?” Adomos’s voice sounded far away and haunted.
I licked my lips. “What feel?”
I lifted my arm, which still hurt, although what felt like fire licking through to my bone was only a surface-level burn, turning my skin an inflamed pink. Nothing more.
Adomos shifted his bulk and rose to his feet, his body casting a long shadow across the stones. “She’s dead, just like you wanted.”
“Yes,” I agreed, finding my own feet. “Not in the way you wanted it to happen though.”
“Nay, little one, I sensed you would take the sword. Its voice is impossible to deny, but now you see what it does, what it is.”
I did not look at it; I did not want to. Horrible as it was, I also felt something else—not a lightness but exhilaration. “Is she truly dead? Will she not resurrect?”
“Nay. There is one truth I kept from you, but I tell you now, only a god can slay a god. When you did so, the heavens opened in acknowledgement.”
I shivered as I recalled the flash of lightning and glanced at the bloodred hue of Mother Selas. Slowly it came over me. Relief. It was over. Jezebel was dead. Never to haunt down and torment anyone else. Never again.
I stretched out my uninjured hand to Adomos. “Thank you for helping me,” I whispered. “Do you think the gods are angry?”
Adomos’s expression twitched ever so slightly. “If anything, they would be proud. You have proven yourself. But you do not care what they think…?”
I frowned. “Yes, and no. I still want to find my father, find out why he tricked my mother, and what plans he has for Labraid. I want to learn more about my magic. I can sense it ebbing and flowing inside me. The elves told me there was more, much more than I know.”
“Indeed,” Adomos grunted before falling silent again.
“We should return,” I suggested. “Romulus and Takari will want to know we are alive and well.”
“You should go to them,” Adomos agreed.
