We pushed forward, weaving toward the castle. Every step brought us deeper into the city.
Yells echoed off the narrow alley walls as more opposed us. The sound blending with the clash of weapons and the heavy thud of bodies falling.
I used my flames sparingly. They were potent, but reckless in close quarters where my own men fought alongside me. Fire had a will of its own, eager to consume indiscriminately. And though I had the precision to direct its wrath, that required a level of focus that I did not think was even needed due to the ease we advanced into the city.
Instead, my sword became an extension of my body—sharp, swift, and reliable. It cleaved through the Sidhe defenders who dared to stand in our way. Flames danced along its edge for a heartbeat before extinguishing, adding a point of terror to those who met my gaze.
I could feel the pull of the castle, its towering spires looming above. Clause was there—I was certain of it. But so was Ariana. My grip tightened on my weapon.
Warriors near the front grunted around. Some of those in the line froze, abruptly halted, before falling to the ground. Dead.
There were glints of weapons that vanished as bodies dropped to the ground after being impaled.Malavika.
Rage burned through my veins, fire, yearning to be set free.
“Use the Ribbons!” Iver yelled to the front lines just before another dozen stopped in their tracks, as if running headfirst into something, or in this case, chest first. Blood soaked their leathers from the blades that appeared just before they impaled themselves, going down.
“Pay attention!” I growled. Iver’s plan better work, or we were going to lose too many of our forces to Mal.
I pushed forward. Another wave of soldiers crumpled around me. My warriors.
The seal on my conjuring shattered like glass under a hammer.
I unleashed myself on those who stood in my way, placing themselves between me and Ariana. The fury within promised death. Conjured fire licked my skin before I sent it forward and out, clearing a path ahead.
My mind became a blur, almost silencing the chaos within. Eradicate the threat. Get to Ariana. End the monster. Those three thoughts consumed me, leaving no room for hesitation or mercy. Acting on brutal instinct, I faintly even sensed the souls I destroyed in my wake.
That rage, born of fear, burned hotter than any flame I could conjure. The terror of losing her for good, of failing her, drove me forward, each step fueled by desperation.
Something attempted to smother the flames lining the road as I pressed on, clearing our path. My focus shifted, hand raising to obliterate whoever dared to block us. Moisture caused the flames to hiss. A water conjuror. I concentrated on the spot where the fire hissed, willing it to burn hotter.
Voices screamed beyond the hiss. I could not make sense of it over the roar in my ears.
The moisture lessened. And when it nearly went out completely. I withdrew the flame from that section, wishing to see what stood on the other side. My gaze dropped to a–
“Please! Please spare him!” A mother cried, arms wrapped around a boy, tears streaming down her face behind her pressed-shut eyes. Fresh burns marked her arms as she did all she could to shelter the boy’s body with her own. Angry and frightened eyes of a boy no older than eight years of age held my stare, refusing to look away.
A boy. Achild.
The sight drew a clarity that nearly brought me to my knees.
The child fought to free a hand from his mother’s hold. Water floated around him, responding to his movements. This was who stood against me? A mere child?
“Please! I beg of you. Not my baby!” The mother’s borderline hysterical screams were like acid to my ears.
I looked around, truly noting the battle. Half of those standing against us were simple civilians. Defending their homes, not knowing that we wanted to help them, not destroy them. We were here to free them, not take from them.
This was wrong.
30
ARIANA
Clause’s words echoed in my mind, as if my brain were a chamber made to hold and recite them over and over.
It is my mate. It is you... It is my mate. It is you... It is my mate. It is...
“This isn’t possible.” My response was a numb whisper on my lips as I stared at the image of myself with pointed ears. The painter captured the small curve of her lips, the glint in her eyes. She was happy in his arms. And he... I tore my gaze from it, staring wide-eyed at the ground, trying to process the enormity of everything. “I am not her.”
