I gasped, barely able to breathe, kicking helplessly. Lyr was screaming my name, telling me to get up, to fight back.
But I couldn’t. Suddenly, I was younger. Back to a version of myself almost four years ago. Powerless, and bound by my father. Unable to touch my magic or my strength.
My father had beaten me brutally, like he always did. Because he was stronger. Had always been stronger. But that time, it was the first time I’d remembered what I knew about gryphons. That they never learned that they became stronger than the rope. That if they tried, they could tear the rope apart. And before that day, I’d never tried. I’d never fought back.
Until I did. And I’d won.
My power was gone. But I was more than that. I’d fought for my strength. I’d been fighting my entire life.
And I was done feeling weak, feeling lesser than him. I was ready to win. Finally. I threw my head forward, slamming into my father’s. Blood spurted from his nose onto me, and his hands loosened. I landed a punch to his face, my body bucking and throwing him off. Suddenly, with an energy I didn’t know I had flowing through me, I grabbed my sword and charged.
He swung, blocking my hit, and I turned, striking metal against metal. Our blades clashed, again and again.
I turned and spun, about to attack, when he struck a hit, slicing into my arm. I cried out, feeling blood gush from the wound.
And then suddenly, I stilled, the armor around me heating again.
I felt my eyes brighten, and my father, who’d lined up a killing blow, froze.
“Devon, you didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?” Auriel spoke through me. “The big finale? No. I’m always one for a show. But I’m also here to remind you that when you die, our oath still stands. When your pathetic ruined soul leaves your body, I’ll be here waiting on the other side, waiting to escort you to hell.”
Then silently, in my mind, he said,Now get him. And tell Lyriana, I said hello.
I will. My chest heaved and he was gone. It was just me and my father.
He roared out, his sword lifted.
Our blades came together, clanging and reverberating, and then somehow, I lost mine. He did, too. They clattered to the floor and slid away.
We both scrambled for the nearest one.
Mine.
I reached it first, but my father’s grip on it came a second later, and then we were in a tug of war for the weapon, both trying to turn it toward the other.
I hissed through my teeth and watched as I slowly bent his wrist back, turning the blade on him. I was winning. Finally.
I could see the fear in his eyes.
“Rhyan, he seethed, “I will kill you.”
“No. You won’t.” My muscles burned, but I turned the blade on him and pointed its tip at his belly.
And suddenly there were two new voices in the room. “We have it,” Jules yelled out.
“Lyr,” Meera cried. “Here.”
A snake hissed, a nahashim, and I caught sight out of my peripheral vision, a black box being handed to Lyr.
There was a metallic clicking sound as it sprang open.
I pushed the blade into my father’s stomach, ready to gut him the way he’d stabbed me before. I felt it, my muscles straining, every last ounce of my strength being tested.
And then bright, brilliant blue light filled the Seating Room. My magic.
Lyr began to chant, and as I pushed the blade through my father’s belly, his eyes widening in pain, my body began to glowas the light seeped inside of me, sinking into my skin, knitting through my muscles, threading back into my bones.
I gasped, all at once, my strength renewed, any lingering hurt or pain gone. My sense of weakness and exhaustion vanished. My sight was clear, my head no longer hurt.
