“Pa, say something please! You’re fine. You’re going to be fine, you hear me? Everything is going to be fine!” She was beside herself. “Someone help us!” she screamed.
Somewhere in the distance, the fighting raged on. Wolf Mask and his vigilantes were putting up a good fight, but still grossly outnumbered. The remaining citizens of Larksridge were fighting for their lives and struggling to protect themselves. No one was coming to save her.
A hand reached up and caressed her face. She looked down to see Connall looking up at her, smiling, his teeth red with blood.
“Pa, please! We are going to get out of here. Everything will be fine.” She sobbed, repeating herself.
“Shh,” Connall whispered. “Don’t you fuss over me, my girl.” It was an effort for him to talk as he gasped between words. “Doyou know… how proud you’ve made me? Do you know how lucky I am… that Fate brought us… together?”
“No, you are not allowed to talk like this. You are not leaving me!”
He closed his eyes, cringing against the pain racking his body. When he opened them again, his eyes were softer, full of sorrow. “I am… sorry… for not telling you… the truth… sooner. That was… never my intention. I hope… you will forgive… me.”
Hazel couldn’t think straight, she couldn’t function because none of this was real. It couldn’t be. “Please…” she whispered. “Please don’t… I don’t need to forgive you. There’s nothing to forgive. You’re mine, and I’m yours, and we are going back to Larksridge together, do you hear me?”
He blinked at her, a single tear rolling down his cheek as he reached for her hand. He didn’t speak, he couldn’t speak. He was fading.
“I forgive you,” she cried. “There’s nothing to forgive, but if that will make you stay then yes, I forgive you. I love you more than anyone in the world, and I need you. Please, just hang on.”
He smiled at her, giving her hand a squeeze. And then the light was gone, his grip releasing her as his hand fell away. Connall Callahan was gone.
Overwhelmed by rage and unimaginable sorrow, Hazel screamed and dug down into that place deep within her soul. The endless well where her magic lied in wait, begging to be called upon. This time it was easy to access, boiling up within her with an ease that shocked her. This was power, and she would make them pay.
Hazel brought her power to the surface and set it free, exploding in a blinding light, wiping out every attacker in her vicinity and blasting apart trees. Her eruption shattered the ground and rattled the very stars in the sky.
And then she was nothing, and the world went black.
NO VISITORS
The iron lock slid out of place, followed by the sound of stone grinding on stone as the dungeon’s main door pushed open. The armed guard entered and stepped aside, allowing Slaide to walk past him. As soon as he’d cleared the threshold, the guard pushed the door shut once more.
Slaide paused momentarily, his skin prickling at the sound of that door closing. He steeled himself against the unease.It isn’t like that this time. They’ll never lock you in one of these cells again.
He pushed through that feeling, ensuring no one noticed Slaide Elias balking at the thought of being locked in this dank, windowless, soul-rending dungeon again. He closed his eyes, rolling his neck from left to right and back again, and his resolve returned.
Focus on the task at hand.
He walked down the aisle, noting that most of the doors were propped open. Empty. He smirked, knowing the witches who’d been imprisoned here were likely somewhere safe. He thought of the things he’d read in that history book. The things Magnus himself had admitted to. The things Hazel could—would—face if she stayed there.
Slaide picked up his pace. Was she even still here? Was this all a waste of time? But then it came into view: the solid, iron door three times as thick as the others along the hall. It was closed and bolted shut. Likely warded as well. And if that was the case, he was going to need more help getting that door open, because the kind of chaos his magic drew on was far from the refined type that could be controlled with runes and glyphs. He drew his shadows and storms from the world around him, relying on the unrefined mana he could find below the ground.
In short, while he was impeccably strong, Slaide Elias could not make or break warding spells. There was no barging through them on sheer power or will alone. And if he knew the mages, which he unfortunately did, these wards would retaliate against anyone who either tried to break them with the wrong magical imprint or tried to force their way in.
And that spell would be written to kill.
He turned to the guard. “I need access to that prisoner.”
The man raised a brow. “And I need a day off. No one is to go in or out of that cell. King’s orders.”
Slaide didn’t let his frustration show, but he had to think fast. “While that may be true, I was sent here to interrogate her. King’s orders.” He smiled that charming, murderous smile that made most people back down in his presence.
This at least gave the guard pause. But it was clear he was thinking it over, considering his options. He was going to call Slaide’s bluff.
“Master Elias, sir, I understand you’re a man of great power and status, but I’ve received no official word from His Majesty in regard to solicitations of the prisoner. Might you have something with his signature or seal indicating such?”
Slaide roared internally. Of the few times he’d ever come across a guard who could think on his feet and hold a sword equally as well, this man had to be one of them. He examined theguard, who just stood there, arms folded and watching him with hawklike intensity.
“No, he didn’t send me with anything official. Simply his words as you hear them coming out of my mouth. I’m not generally questioned on my authenticity. But no matter, if it’s going to be an issue I can just return to him?—”
