Marlak’s life is fading. I can feel it. His magic is fading to the point even our connection is getting weak.
Meanwhile, I feel none of Azur’s power. Maybe it’s the magical poisoning dulling his power, but it can’t be, if he transcended to the castle.
I try to keep searching deep down for the transcending magic and nothing comes, just emptiness and pain. I’m hollow. Powerless.
“Do you want more blood?” he asks as he shows me the gash in his palm.
I shake my head. It shouldn’t make a difference. I’ve gained his transcending magic with nothing but a drop.
Panic is taking over my body, panic and dread as I feel Marlak’s life force vanishing. But I can’t give up. Perhaps more blood is the answer. I’m about to ask for some, when the magic reaches me.
The air around me seems alive, as if it was part of me. I can sense the air coming in and out of Lidiane’s and Azur’s lungs—but I don’t need air magic.
I focus some more. Slowly, familiar places come to my mind. River islands, the heart of magic. No, I shouldn’t think about that. Something’s calling me. Pulling me.
It’s as if a glass dome is protecting me, though. Not glass. The nymphs’ magic.
I head to the edge of the island and jump, using air to push me further, then cushion my fall at the river bank.
Now there’s nothing dulling Azur’s transcending magic coursing through me, and yet I don’t need any effort, don’t need to visualize the old sanctuary where the Witch King was held.
It’s pulling me. All I do is surrender to the pull. The world around me dissolves and becomes darkness and anger and pain.
When there’s light again, it comes from lightstones in that strange, unfinished sanctuary—my grim ancestor’s prison of my grim.
A strong smell of something burned assaults my nose as dozens of ghouls make a circle around something away from the throne. Marlak’s there, I can feel it. The ghouls don’t seem to see me yet and my plan is to blow them. I reach inward for some air magic, but find nothing.
Nothing.
My borrowed magic is gone, just like Azur when we were pulled here. It means I’m defenseless. Cold shivers take my body as I wonder how I’m going to survive this place and escape with Marlak.
I pull my dagger slowly but not silently enough, as some ghouls turn to me. With no time to think, I run in their direction, push some of them aside, and find Marlak fallen on the ground, the Witch King crouched above him.
My ancestor’s steely eyes find me but I crouch and make a small cut on Marlak’s arm. As I’m bringing the dagger to my mouth, I feel strange hands pulling me back, but I insist and taste my husband’s blood, the metallic tang comforting, soothing.
“Seize her,” the Witch King says.
Ghouls pull me away from Marlak, but I can still see the Witch King’s hand on his head, syphoning his magic. I try to feel the air around me, feel some humidity, even though there probably isn’t much, but my elemental magic feels dulled.
Dulled.
Not dead.
I recall the moment when I conjured a flame on my palm. I’ll need much stronger magic now if I hope to have any chance to survive this, any chance to save Marlak.
The ghouls pull me, and I make myself heavy as if I was about to collapse on the ground, just to make their job harder.
The Witch King is still pulling Marlak’s magic, but not only magic; his vital force too. He’ll kill my husband if he continues like that.
It’s that thought and the panic that does it; lights a spark.
And the fuel is my anger. A small flame appears on my hand. Too small, but enough to scare the ghouls.
I run towards Marlak, but feel a current of air pushing me back, quenching my flame. The Witch King has stopped trying to syphon his magic and is giving me all his attention, but it’s not very strong elemental magic, at least not enough to push me too far.
I conjure another flame, perhaps too small, but I hope it can do something, and send it in the Witch King’s direction. The fire doesn’t reach the sinister fae, though. Instead, it parts in two like a curtain.
Still, I run in the Witch King’s direction, dagger in hand, and I’m fast enough to scrape his hand. No air is coming to my lungs and my vision is getting blurry, and yet I manage to bring the dagger to my lips and taste his blood. I feel something in my shoulder, like a puncture. The ghouls are attacking me, but I manage to create some fire and scare them.
