“You expect me to believe the First Saint has returned, and has decided to pledge herself to the very cause she soughtto destroy five hundred years ago?”
“General…” Andras started, but Evie held up a hand, and he fell silent at once.
“It is true that I once naively believed the gods were just in their decrees against the Visya. That we were no more than stewards of the realm they had created,” she stated. Aya saw her eyes move to the guard on Dav’s left before resettling on the general. “I was wrong.”
It happened in the span of a blink. One moment, the guard was standing still, and the next he was lurching forward with a choked gasp, his eyes bulging with the veins in his neck beneath Evie’s power. Dav swore as he jerked away from the man, whose lips parted in a panicked gasp as his fingers clawed at his throat. Dav reached for his sword as he turned toward Evie, even as Andras stepped between the saint and general.
“Seize her,” Dav barked to his troops. But the warriors had all gone deathly still, their bodies rigid as Evie’s palms opened at her sides, trapped by whatever vicious magic Evie wielded.
“History has lied to you,” she murmured. “I did not die from the effort of opening the veil. I died at the hands of petty gods who were threatened by my power.”
Startled shouts echoed across the docks as the sky above them darkened. Aya watched as the line of prisoners jostled one another, the guards at each end of the line drawing their swords and shouting for order.
“I think you’ll find, General,” Evie continued as she extended her arms by her side, “vengeance is a powerful motivator.” She fixed Dav with a steady stare. “And there is but one saint.”
Light erupted from her, piercing the darkened sky like an arrow. A deafening bang sounded, and Aya wasn’t sure if it was Evie’s power or thunder or both, but it was answered by screams as dockworkers and soldiers began to panic, all whileDav’s circle of guards stood trapped, gazes forced upward, blood seeping from their eyes.
The ground trembled beneath their feet, and Evie cocked her head back and let her power extend until she was a column of crackling light.
It was a mockery of what Aya had done in the square at her Sanctification. A reminder that Aya’s power was no match for what resided in Evie.
The docks dissolved into pandemonium as Evie let her power loose, soldiers and dockworkers alike running for cover. The saint let the tendrils of her lightning extend, and Aya watched as a dockworker fell with a scream as her power hit him.
And then another.
And another.
The screams intensified with Evie’s power. Within them, Aya could just make out the panicked cries of a child. It was the girl in the pink dress, the light illuminating the terror on her face as the prisoners shifted and yanked and jostled against their bindings. Her mother’s pleas were lost in the noise, but Aya could see the way she tried to grapple for her child to prevent her from getting trampled.
Dav was rooted to the spot, frozen either by shock or terror or force, Aya didn’t know. She didn’t care. Because chaos was reigning, and Evie was still relishing in her show of might, and Aya still could not access her power, and yet…
The rope tore from Andras’s grip as she lunged for Dav. She raised her hands toward his extended sword, the blade ripping skin and rope as she thrust her hands against it. Andras’s shout was lost in the pandemonium, but Aya was already moving, her blood-coated hand snatching one of the frozen guard’s sheathed swords as she shouldered her way past them.
She had seconds, if that, before Evie shifted her focus toher. But if she could get far enough away, perhaps she could break the saint’s hold on her power.
Aya raced toward the prisoners, the girl’s sobs piercing through the screams. She stopped before her, her sword glinting in Evie’s light as she slashed through the child’s bindings before turning to her mother.
“Run,” Aya ordered as she cut her free. The lightning ceased, and the mother latched onto her wrist, her eyes wide. “Run!” Aya ordered.
The mother’s gaze darted past her. And then in one quick movement, she snatched Aya’s sword, her other arm locking around Aya’s waist as she spun her against her chest. The cool kiss of metal touched her neck as the mother bared the sword at her throat.
“What are you doing?” Aya gasped, her hands latching onto the mother’s sword arm. But she held the blade firm.
“Take her,” the mother pleaded. Aya followed her gaze to Evie, who stood at General Dav’s side, a small smile on her face. “Take her and let us go free.”
People were still running—still desperate to flee—but the air around Aya felt still and tense.
Evie’s laugh was soft. Dangerous. “Oh Aya,” she murmured. A cry sounded somewhere to Aya’s left. From the corner of her eye, she saw one prisoner drop. And another. And another. “When will you learn?” Evie asked.
Another.
Another.
Another.
“They are not deserving of your mercy.”
The mother stiffened, Aya’s grip on her wrist the only thing keeping the blade from slicing her throat. Aya forced it off of her, turning just in time to see the woman drop to the ground.
