The knight who was doing the drawing finishes with a flourish. Instantly, the lines are cold enough that they burn. The knightsteps back and draws a second symbol off to the side. The searing panic turns to actual lava in my veins as the other knight places a token in the center of my chest that feels just like Lucan’s healing—a sigil that will, hopefully, ensure I survive this.
The reaction to all three sigils at once is instant.
I scream.
The knights leap away as my body is trapped by an invisible weight, and I’m pinned to the floor, unable even to writhe as endless and unbearable pain pulses through me. It feels as though monsters have crawled underneath my skin and are sucking the marrow from my bones. Just like before, my vision blurs and my head buzzes, only this time, I don’t have Lucan touching me, sharing the pain, holding me steady, and encouraging me to hang on.
“Show me.Show me. I know it’s in there. Show me the product of my work. Break free, Isola. Use your power without a sigil of your own to break free,” the vicar snarls, but his voice is distant.
My eyes roll up in my head, and my veins burn with liquid fire. Through earthquakes of Etherlight, I am reshaped from the inside out. Something pulsing, writhing, seeks escape but cannot find it. I will explode into dust if this continues. My back arches and falls, time and again. I almost feel my ribs popping out of their places on my spine, arcing in reverse.
My vocal cords give out.
“Your holiness?” one of the knights says uncertainly.
There is no response.
My mind splinters, and suddenly I’m elsewhere—Mother’s apartment. On the floor, just like this. But her hands are gentle, and her magic seeps into me like tea leaves to water. She gives me a tincture, a formula she said will help, one that Vinguard’s healers would not touch. One that I can go to her for and must keep secret from everyone else.
My one hope.
Am I cursed, Mum?The question rings across my mind. Still unanswered.
Nearly…I so very nearly…beg for mercy. As my skin splits and peels from my muscle. As my mouth is dry, throat burning from the inside out. As I am destroyed by the outer sigils and remade again from the one on my chest…a thousand times.
But I do not.
There is something within me. Something that burns hotter than the vicar’s endless thirst for power. Something that lights my way.
Rage.
He wants me to become his Valor. His killer.
I mightbea killer, but I will never be his.
My power is my own.
My eyes find focus again. They find the vicar in the blur of the room and the endless waterfall of rage and pain that crashes through me. And there must be something in my stare that even he can’t bear witness to, because he sucks in a slow breath.
“Enough,” he says at last.
I’m doused with cold water. It washes away the chalk sigils and sends the token on my chest skittering across the floor. I cough and sputter.
“Enough for now,” the vicar clarifies, taking a step closer to me. I can barely see him through swollen eyelids and tangled lashes. “Do not let me down, Isola. Remember, I control everything you love.” He crouches next to me, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear almost like a father would. “I have invested much in you. Vinguard needs you. I need you.” He says it gently, voice contrasting with the violence of what he just did. “You are not yet ready, but you are so close. Soon…soon… This power within you must be freed. Destiny awaits us both.”
They leave.
A wheeze escapes my lips. Trembles rack my body, and I twistto the side. I want to scream, but the only sound is my dry heaving. No bile. Barely spit. Nothing within me. I collapse back onto the floor and try to get myself under control. Fighting the tears only makes them fall faster. Trembling lips and quivering hands.
I don’t know how long I lie there before the door opens again. This time, it’s an inquisitor, and I can’t decide if I’m relieved to see them instead of a knight.
The inquisitor throws me a bundle. “Freshen up.” They place a bowl of water on the ground next to a bar of soap and a rag. And leave.
Every muscle screams. I close my eyes—and the darkness turns traitor. The pain floods back, every moment of pain and helplessness replaying. My breath jerks. My eyes fly open.
I don’t dare close them again. Sleep feels like surrender, like shackles waiting to slam shut. If I drift, I’ll never claw my way out of the nightmares waiting for me. I manage to make my way to the bowl and freshen up. Valor bless, the bundle is fresh clothes.
The door groans open, and the inquisitor steps in again as I finish. I force myself to stand, body shaking, and follow her back into the black halls.
