Beth’s magic pulses, ready to strike. But mine is—Mine islisteningnow.
She steps in closer.
Another knot slips loose, floats away.
No struggle. No shouting.
Just power—quiet andobedient, building behind my skin.
“Tell me, Lyra,” she raises a hand, “did she scream when the flames got her?”
My eyes open and snap into focus. Everything sharpens—sound, heat, the scrape of air itself. I can see more, hear more, feeleverything—all of it zeroed in onBeth.
I thought it would be chaos. Thought I’d come undone in a blaze of light and fury.
But this? It’s peaceful. It’s calm, controlled, and it’smine. All of it.
Beth's eye twitches, like she senses exactly what I’ve just unlocked. She moves fast, hand snapping up—but my Threads are already there, months' worth of power, just coiled at my fingertips, waiting.
They rip from me in a hard, exact line—no more flaring, no more scatter. Just pure, directed force. Like a knife sliding through ribs.
She doesn’t expect the precision. Not from me. Not now. Nor did I.
The magic hits square in her chest. A sound tears out of her—half gasp, half scream—as she’s thrown back. Her body foldsaround the impact, and she crashes down hard, shoulder blades into the mat.
Pain still flares from somewhere—my hip, shoulder, maybe my side—but it’s distant, drowned under the rush of magic. I move quick—crossing the space in a heartbeat, Threads surging through my body like vipers uncoiling.
The hollowness is gone.
No more brittle edges. No more scraping the bottom.I feel full.
Beth tries to move, too slow. The mat groans as I slam her back down—hard. Threads of air and water lash tight around her wrist, her ribs, her throat, anchoring her to the floor.
She wheezes, tries to rise, but her elbows buckle beneath her weight, fingers slipping on blood, hers, and she crashes back down.
I’m above her now, chest rising hard but ready to strike again. Ready to end it.
“I don’t want to kill you.” My voice too loud in the silence.
Beth coughs once, wet and ugly, and looks up at me with a cracked smile. Her lip’s split wide. One eye swollen nearly shut. But her voice? Steady.
“I know,” she rasps. “It’s one of the many weaknesses I’ve learned about you over the past few months.”
My jaw clenches as magic pulsing at my fingertips,obedient, just waiting for the final call.
Beth strains against my hold—one arm twitching like she might rise—but she’s not going anywhere. Her legs are tangled beneath her, her body pinned tight. I pull harder. Threads cinch down, cruel, precise, easy.
She doesn’t move. But her voice finds its edge again.
“You two deserve each other anyway,” she hisses, breathing tight through a laugh. “You know he's cursed, right? Killed hisfirst girlfriend. His family tried to cover it up. Everyone thinks it’s a rumour, but I knew her sister.”
My spine goes tight.Surprise. I can’t hide it. Beth sees it.She tips her chin up, smiling through the blood.
“They were fucking for the first time,” she grits out, voice rough with pain, but she sees the shock on my face and keeps going, feeding off it. “Something happened. And he took it, her magic, her Threads.” A tremor pulses through her limbs. “She told him to stop. Begged him to stop.”I shake my head. “But he didn’t.” Beth’s voice is quieter now. Wrecked. “Just kept going until there was nothing left. Until she was drained,dead.”
She’s lying. Shehasto be. Baiting me, twisting shit to hurt me.
But—
