That girl pleaded too.
Manacles. I put my will into the essence of the word and let the power loose. Two pink, brothel-like manacles materialise on his wrists.
He gawks at them, then grins before breaking them apart. “You almost fooled me,” he hisses, shoving me aside.
I brace myself for an impact, but someone catches me.
“Take him,” Riven’s voice commands.
He sets me down and turns to the man. From the corner of my eye, I see his males dragging the scum away.
“Are you hurt?”
I stare at him; if not for the storm raging in his eyes, he looks calm.
I am a pathetic excuse of a leader.
“I am fine.” Only my ego, my pride and my self-esteem took a beating.
And the female on the ground.
“Please, water,” I say meekly, and his face softens, brow furrowing. Great, I upset the General with how unfit to rule I am.
He nods and turns to summon someone. The moment his head turns, I bolt into the parting crowd.
I manage to hide in a dead-end alley and command my power to portal me the fuck away.
My tavern room in Tricity!
The blue rectangle appears, and I spring through it—only to land in the fucking desert again.
???
“What is wrong with me?!” I scream, my knees hitting the sand.
Surrounded by nothing for miles and miles, I make no effort to contain the storm within me.
“How could you leave before you taught me anything?” I yell, my voice echoing several times before it dies. “I am too young, I am not ready, I can’t control it!”
“Gorok, please help me!” I beg the God I descended from. The God that’s supposed to favour my line, yet the horrifying silence at the end of my scream doesn’t sound like a favour. More like a punishment. Exile. As if I had offended him greatly by not accepting my responsibility. Like if another Berigander existed, they would have smitten me a long time ago.
“Please!” My voice breaks, tears streaming uncontrollably.
The only thing that responds is my power. It explodes. I shut my eyes while I let it all out. Scream, pain, guilt, hatred, agonising mourning and the pure power.
My voice gets painfully hoarse before I collapse. The cold stones bring relief from the heat.
Cold stones?
My power has conjured an impenetrable fortress, yet the well remains barely touched.
How the fuck will I explain this monstrosity to Jestin? It is his court. His Sand Court. He doesn’t need another palace. That’s what I am good for: architecting buildings no one needs and destroying lives.
Yet, I have no time to wallow in self-pity because my teeth chatter and goosebumps rise on my skin. The chill is unnatural. Even with the cold marble beneath me.
I instinctively turn left and stagger at what I see. Dark energy hovers by the door, frighteningly resembling Grandpa. Is my mind playing tricks on me? He is supposed to be dining in Gorok’s gardens, not wandering aimlessly.
The energy, Grandpa, lunges at me, curling me up like prey.
