Before the troll could react, her shadows lashed out, wrapped around its limbs, and dragged the troll to its knees. It roared in fury, its voice shaking the walls, but Celise’s grip didn’t waver. A few supernaturals backed away into the shadows, but no one intervened.
“Quiet,” she snapped. “You’ll have plenty of time to scream later.” She tapped her lip as she scanned the tavern. “One more, one more, one more,” she said in time with each tap of her finger.
At last she saw a fae, his beauty a stark contrast to the others Celise had chosen. His sharp cheekbones and golden hair gave him an almost ethereal appearance, but the darkness in his eyes betrayed the corruption that had taken root in his soul. She walked over to him, her other captives being pulled along by the power that bound them to her.
“My, my, my,” Celise purred. “You’ve been a naughty boy. How unbecoming of your kind.”
The fae smirked, his voice smooth as silk. “And yet, you’re here playing executioner.” He motioned to the supernaturals she’d captured. “Tell me, sprite, what does that make you?”
Celise smiled. “Efficient. Did you see how fast I rounded these up?” She tilted her head at him. “No? Here, let me give you a demonstration.”
The shadows struck before he could respond, coiling around him with a speed that left him no room to react.
Celise laughed at the death glare the fae shot at her as she opened a portal. She didn’t give the room another glance as she dragged her spoils through it, their struggles futile against her magic. As soon as she stepped into Felspar’s apartment, she saw four small circles on the floor. They pulsed with magic.
“Damn.” Felspar’s brow rose. “When you want something you really go after it.” Then he motioned to the circles. “Put one in each circle. Once they’re in it, they will be bound.”
Celise did as he asked, using the dark shadows to move them to each spot. Once the four beings were bound within the blood circles, she looked back at the elf, eager to get a move on.
Felspar glanced at them, his lips curving into a cruel grin. “Excellent choices. This will do nicely.” He turned to her sisters, his voice severe. “Do everything as I explained it. Hold on to them when the time comes, and don’t hesitate. If you falter, the spell will backfire, and we’ll all suffer for it.”
Thraya and Hishta exchanged uneasy glances, but they stepped forward, their hesitation warring with their desire to reclaim their power. Celise watched them closely, her eyes narrowing.
“These creatures are evil. They’ve killed, corrupted, and destroyed for their own gain. If you feel any guilt, remember who you’re dealing with. You’re not taking innocent lives. You’re taking back what’s yours.”
Felspar chuckled, the sound low and amused. “And what does that make you, Celise? A hero? Or just another monster?”
Celise’s smirk returned, and for a split second she saw a hint of fear in Felspar. “I’m whatever I need to be.”
The elf simply shrugged and then picked up a very old book. “Once I begin, you can do your part. Each of them must be dead by the time I finish reading the spell.” He opened the book, the old pages rustling as he turned them until he found what he wanted. Then, he began to chant in an ancient language. Celise took that as her cue.
She walked over to Thraya who was kneeling down next to the pixie trapped in her circle. The pixie thrashed within the confines of the blood circle, its small, wiry body straining against the invisible force that kept it trapped. Shadows coiled around its limbs, binding it in place like serpents tightening their grip. The pixie’s angular face was twisted in a mix of fury and terror, dark eyes darting to its captors and then back to the blade in Celise’s hand.
“Let me out, sprite!” it snarled, its voice high-pitched and grating. “You think you’re better than me? You think you’re not just as rotten as the rest of us?”
Celise crouched down, leveling her gaze with the pixie’s. She studied the creature like a spider might study a fly caught in its web. “Better than you?” she mocked. “No. Just smarter. You should have spent less time dabbling in blood magic and more time figuring out how not to get caught.”
The pixie hissed and bared its needle-like teeth. “You’ll regret this, sprite. My blood will curse you!”
Celise’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Oh, I’ve been cursed before. Your pathetic little threats are nothing compared to what I’ve already survived.” She pulled a blade, this one different from the one she’d used on her hand, from her cloak. It glinted in the dim light, its wickedly sharp edge catching the faint glow of the candles scattered around the room. The blade was small, almost delicate in its design, but deadly in its purpose. She ran her thumb along its edge, testing the sharpness, and a thin line of crimson appeared on her skin.
The pixie’s struggles grew more frantic. Its wiry muscles strained as it tried to wrench free of the circle’s power. “You don’t have to do this!” it shrieked, desperation creeping into its voice. “There are other ways! Other sacrifices!”
Celise was filled with determination, and her smile faded. “You’ve already made enough sacrifices, little one. Humans, fae, your own kind. All for power you didn’t deserve. Consider this… balance.”
Celise stepped into the circle, her boots crossing the line of blood that sealed the pixie’s fate. The magic rolled off her like water and didn’t affect her in the least. The creature’s dark eyes widened, and its breath came in short, panicked gasps as Celise loomed over it.
“Don’t do this,” it whispered, its voice trembling now. “Please.”
For a moment, Celise hesitated. Not out of guilt or mercy—those emotions had been burned out of her when Peri had taken her sisters from her—but out of something darker. A twisted curiosity, a hunger to see what would happen when life was snuffed out in such an intimate, deliberate way.
She knelt before the pixie, one knee pressing into the rough wood floor. The creature whimpered, its sharp teeth clicking together as it tried to speak, but no words came. Celise reached out, her fingers cold as they gripped the pixie’s chin, forcing its head back to expose the thin, pale column of its neck.
The blade moved with precision, its edge biting into the flesh like a whisper of steel. The sound was wet. A sickening gurgle escaped when the pixie’s throat opened beneath her hand. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc, warm and viscous, splattering across Celise’s face and soaking into her cloak. The metallic tang, pungent and overwhelming, filled the air.
The pixie’s body convulsed, its tiny hands clawing at the air as its lifeblood poured out in a torrent. The circle beneath them glowed faintly, and the blood pooled around the creature’s body as if drawn to the lines of the spell.
Felspar’s voice rose behind Celise, the elf’s chanting steady and rhythmic as he worked the spell. The air around them grew heavy, charged with power, as the pixie’s magic began to flow. Its essence shimmered faintly—a dark, pulsing energy that seeped from its lifeless body and into the blood circle.
