The King of the Waste stands before me, unnaturally calm. The tempest doesn’t lift the smallest hair on his head. He’s the master of the Unseen Death, and I wonder again if I’ve been fooling myself. In answer, the power surges in me hot and sharp, as if answering.
I throw all of my newfound power at Namreth. I bare my teeth, commanding the Rings to my will, but Namreth is faster. Better.
His storm carves through my gale as I gasp for air. My chest tightens of its own accord, and my hands and feet go numb where I stand. A sudden pressure builds behind my eyes. I’m suffocating. I’m choking, and in a moment, I will pass out. My vision will fade to black, and that’ll be the end. My throat closes tighter with each passing moment. I grasp in the dark for the Rings’ power, but just as easily as it surged in me, it’s lost.
Gone.
There is no air left in me.
Namreth’s hold on me is absolute.
“Dietan!”Aren?
No.Get back. Her voice is too close.
I thought she was safe, but she’s right here. I need her to be safe.
I search one last time for the power of the Rings. I find only a fragment, enough to draw one final breath before Namreth can steal it away. I take one more step toward him…
I inhale, but the air I summoned is all gone. The walls close in on me. Still, I struggle against the darkness and the winds that threaten to tear me to pieces.
If only I could breathe.Just one more breath.
But the air is gone from my lungs. My chest is on fire, and I feel my ribs start to compress, the bones strained to the point of breaking. Something cracks in my chest. I fear my death will be just like the others, just as terrible.
Namreth takes a step forward, then another. His voice cuts through the storm. “You really think you can match me? You can’t even breathe!”
He’s right. No cut on my palm or smack in the head with a skillet will pull me out of this. The air is gone, and there is only pain left in its wake. Pain in my chest and in my head, a crushing, lancing torment that threatens to overcome me.
“You’re so afraid of this power. But I’ve spent years embracing it, learning all there is to know, all the magic that your precious grandfather forbade you. And look where you are now!”
I fall, one knee hitting the floor, then the other. Black spots bloom across my vision.
Of course it frightens me. I’m not like Namreth. I don’t want this destructive power. I never chose this.
It chose me.
“Dietan!”
My name echoes dully in my head, cleaving through the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears, through the pain in my chest. Then I realize—Aren is calling to me. She’s on the edge of the storm, thrashing against Marcus’s hold on her. How stubborn she is…
“Focus! Breathe!” Aren cries.
I can’t. I don’t have the strength left to take a step. To lift a finger. To inhale.
My chest is collapsing under the inexorable grip of the Unseen Death.
Somewhere in the distance, Aren breaks out of Marcus’s arms and runs into the storm.
I don’t know what she’s thinking, but one thing is for sure—men have always underestimated her.
She shields her face as she pushes through the storm. I see it at a distance, as if I’m watching a play on a faraway stage. The wind shreds her exposed skin as I watch, engulfed in Namreth’s vortex, unable to act. She bleeds as she calls my name, and I wish I could shield her, but I’m too weak.
She fights through the storm until she reaches me, wraps her arms around me, and holds me so I can’t fall. I’m almost gone, and her face is the only bright thing in the dark.
What are you doing?I think.
I can’t speak. I can’t breathe.Get out of here.But of course, she can’t hear me and wouldn’t listen if she could.
