Clotho’s pale blue robes drag against the stone path, and from this angle, it’s easy to forget she’s an ancient being.
I clear my throat. “Thank you, by the way, for giving me the ability to speak to crowds.”
“I lied. I did no such thing,” she scoffs without bothering to look at me.
My jaw drops. “You what–”
I’m interrupted when a man jogs up to my other side. It’s the chatty prisoner from the cell across mine.
“You couldn’t have mentioned the whole ‘all-powerful’ thing a little earlier?” His eyes sparkle with mirth, and he falls into step beside me as he continues, “Now I feel like a jerk for telling you that you had no choice.”
Despite the playfulness in his tone, there’s something dangerous about the way he moves. Like most prisoners, his clothes have been reduced to rags, and his face is gaunt from starvation, but even now, he seems deadly.
Craning my neck to meet his amber stare, I decide to be honest. “I didn’t know.”
His lips twitch, but as he takes a breath, his easygoing expression turns intense. His pupils dilate, and his body tenses, but it’s shuttered away less than a second later.
Before I can ask if he’s okay, he smiles like nothing just happened and says, “Fair enough. My name’s Varian, by the way.”
He doesn’t hold out a hand or anything, so I simply respond with, “Vivian.”
His grin sharpens. “Yeah, I heard. I also heard that Need has an uncollared Destroyer. Want to tell me how you’re going to stop him from barbequing us the moment we leave the wards?”
It’s a good question, and I’m relieved at least one person isn’t following me blindly.
A slow smile spreads across my face. “I plan on killing him before that becomes an issue.”
Do I know how to kill a Destroyer?
Absolutely not.
But I’m hoping the magically binding cuffs I tied to my dress will help. If anything, at least they can hold him until Sin arrives.
Once we reach the door, I wait until the last prisoner has fallen into position before resting my hand on the handle. It’s cold to the touch, and hums with something that feels dark and angry.
An involuntary shudder passes through me. Someone put a lot of work into making sure the wards kept us locked in.
But the moment my power trickles over the metal, I grin. It’s almost too easy to unravel the threads, and after a brief flare of silver light, the door blasts off its hinges.
Stepping into the small room beyond, I find a handful of guards lounging at a table.
They turn toward us and only have a chance to look startled before absolute chaos breaks out.
Prisoners surge through the doorway, and magic blasts against marble walls. The guards are dead before they even have a chance to yell for help.
The tide of prisoners spills into the corridor, and I follow them, leaving the guard’s weapons for the prisoners who can’t use magic.
Not breaking my stride, I call on my Reaper power and activate my loaner-scythe. A moment later, aweight settles in my hands as the vicious-looking blade appears.
We tear down the corridor and storm into an armory. It’s already teeming with guards, and I’m assuming they heard the blasts.
They scramble for their weapons, as panicked shouts echo through connecting halls. Quickly realizing they’re outnumbered, they scatter in all directions, only for their retreating footfalls to be replaced by dying screams as we run them down.
Before long, freed prisoners are streaming through every connecting hall, taking more of the castle.
I tear down a corridor, trying to get my bearings. Up ahead, it splits off into four directions, but when nothing looks familiar, I sprint after the sounds of metal clashing.
Rounding a corner, I nearly collide with a guard. His helmet is gone, and blood trickles from a cut above his brow.
