“Where are they?” I asked sharply.
“Fled from your terrible power, Goddess,” Razia replied smoothly, but I scoffed at his attempted flattery.
“I don’t need to be praised, Razia. I needanswers,” I hissed, magic flaring brightly in my palms and causing a bit of a ruckus to my back. “I need to kill something,” I muttered.
“Search the city,” Razia called to my army.
“No need,” I hissed, stalling any further movement. My Air Magic was slowly replenishing, the well within full enough to pull upon once more. I conjured a gale large enough to send the soldiers sprawling to the ground behind me, some pressing themselves flat against the walls of buildings to avoid being caught in the whirlwind I was slowly building in my palms.
There were a few gasps and screams of terror as the dumber sycophants scrambled for purchase on loose stones. Many lost their battle and were sucked into the quickly rotating cloud that descended upon Alvor’s palace below.
Humming in satisfaction, hair whipping wildly around my face, I watched as the tornado made quick work of the smaller homes and buildings before attacking the palace. Grey stones joined the rotating vortex, tinging the normally white magic a much darker hue.
Cracks and groans splintered louder than the rushing of wind, and I laughed as the top half of the palace was freed from its base.
I raised my arms in the air, briefly feeding more of my magic intothe disaster below, before clapping my hands above my head. The sound echoed through the dead city, dispelling my magic immediately.
Rocks and stones, even whole structures, dropped from the air to crash below, toppling other buildings in their descent. A few stones were flung wide, clattering to the ground throughout the entirety of the city.
Silence rang out after my little display, and I reveled in it; in the raw power, in the fear I could smell from the men and women behind me.
They willallfear me, I promised, letting my hands drop to my sides.
“There. Now we may continue,” I stated, immediately walking down the hill into the ruined city below.
The discontent and itching need for death coursed through me once more, twitching my fingers and tightening my muscles.
Soon, I promised myself.Soon, you will kill them all. Then Elyria and the cosmos will be yours.
Chapter Ninety-Eight
Faylinn
“Rohak! You listen to me!” I called, ducking under a crate propped between two Mages before dodging around a group of unAwakened cadets, rushing to the waiting horses with provisions in their arms. All the while, my General never stopped his forward progress, never glanced over his shoulder.
I could feel his ire and concern down the Bond, but singular focus drowned both to dull whispers. That, more than anything, assured me he wasn’t ignoring me on purpose; the conversation was simply over in his mind, and he needed to devote his attention to preparing our army to leave.
“Leal!” Rohak barked. The stout Air Mage stopped in her tracks, eyeing Rohak expectantly. “You’re staying here with Sol. Take command of the unAwakened cadets. They areyourresponsibility. Am I understood?”
Leal grunted, a sour look passing over her face for a moment before she nodded curtly. “Understood, General.” She passed the saddle in her arms to a nearby Mage, the force of it knocking him back a few steps with anoomph.
Clearly, I wasn’t the only one pissed the fuck off about being left behind.
I shot Leal a look of solidarity with a pat on her shoulder before I bounded after Rohak once more.
The square in Vespera was in complete disarray. Mages, Vessels, and servants milled about chaotically, all seeing to their individual tasks so the vast majority of the army could disembark within the next ten minutes.
The timeframe seemed absolutely impossible, but Rohak would have it no other way. If we didn’t stand together with Torin, Solace would surely breakthrough their defenses, and then there would be no one to stop her before she reached Vespera.
“Rohak!” I called again, my hurried strides finally pulling even with his determined ones.
“Gene, Art. Are you packed?” he clipped.
“They’recoming?!” I practically screeched, but was ignored by all three parties in question.
“Yessir!” Gene said, glasses magnifying his watery grey eyes almost comically. “We’ve even got Charise here all packed and ready.”
Art pat the wooden crate I’d just seen with a fondness I only reserved for Cotton and Rohak.
