What if the language or the words that I’ve been taught have nothing to do with the magic?
I think through the lessons and the words that I was taught, but I can’t recall anything that tells me that the words themselves are anything more than the language of my dad’s people and that’s why he was passing it down to me.
Zeph’sdeep voice rises up in my mind as he tells me about how the wordtamodwas used against his parents. But I can’t help wondering if, even in this case, the word was inconsequential, and the will of the user was what mattered?
It would make sense that the gryphons would think the words meant more than they did. It was the language of their oppressors. It would have naturally become synonymous with the magic that bent the Gryphons to the Ouphe will. It makes even more sense that the language of the Ouphe is practically dead. I’m sure anyone who spoke it in the presence of a gryphon was ripped apart right then and there.
The Ouphe and all that they represent has been all but destroyed, so of course the language would have been too.
It dawns on me what I’ve been doing wrong. I’ve been so focused on the words, thinking they were the key, but they were just words.
I’m the key.
My will and my magic are all that I need. Not the words. They couldn’t carry my will, because they’re not even mine.
I open my eyes and look up at the guys, understanding lighting up my eyes.
I know what to do.
Pain slams through my abdomen, and I gasp and look down to see Lazza shoving a dagger into my stomach. I hear the roar of my mates just as I see Lazza slowly flip over, another dagger in his other hand headed directly for my head.
I grunt against the sharp metal in my stomach and immediately get pissed with myself. I fucking knew this asshole would pull something like this, and still I kneeled down next to him and just sat here, giving his fake unconscious ass plenty of time to plan his next move.
Amateur move, Falon! You’d think it was my first war or something.
Lazza’s dagger gets closer to my face, and I pull on my source of magic and let it overtake my entire body, including my voice.
“Stop,” I order, shoving my magic and my will at Lazza like a bitch-slap of authority that will not be argued with.
He freezes mid swipe, and time picks back up as I hold a purple glowing hand up to the guys to keep them away. I have Lazza now, and I don’t want to take any chances that their interference will fuck with anything.
Lazza’s eyes fill with fear, and I didn’t even give him my practiced smile yet. I leave his dagger in my stomach even though it hurts. I’ve watched enoughGrey’s Anatomyto know you don’t pull shit out of you unless there’s someone there to deal with the internal injuries.
Slowly I reach out for Lazza’s neck again, not because I technically need to, but because it makes me feel like a dominant bitch. I blame all those years I thought I was a wolf.
“You can’t,” Lazza tells me between clenched teeth as I lean into him.
“This is the reclamation, Lazza. But don’t worry, you won’t live to see the other side of it.”
I don’t give him time to respond. I may have pulled a rookie move and gotten myself stabbed, but I’m not going to monologue uselessly and give anyone time to fuck with what’s about to happen.
“I unbind this rune and all the magic in it. I demand that this mark cease to exist and crumble to dust, never to be used against anyone again,” I order, magic pouring out of my mouth, coating the words that I’m speaking, and sinking into Lazza one spark and flicker of power at a time.
Lazza starts to pant, and I wait until his aqua gaze once again focuses on my hard lavender stare.
“So I fucking will it, so it is fucking done,” I growl, and just as I feel the rune crumble to nothing under my palm, I call on a swoosh blade and shove it up through Lazza’s chin until it comes out of the top of his head.
I let go of the blade and the back of Lazza’s neck, and he falls away from me. Lazza’s dagger in my stomach disappears, and just when I think it’s all over, power slams into me like a lightning bolt. I’m hit by the magic that was in the Vow marks as they crumble to nothing on the thousands of gryphons who wore them. The magic forces its way to my center and lights me up as it tries to settle in my too small body.
I scream as it sears itself into all that I am again, and try to breathe through the pain that’s pumping in my veins. I feel Pigeon wake up inside of me, and we wrap around each other as we try to withstand the tsunami of agony.
I know I promised myself I would stop letting my body shut down, but I decide exceptions to every rule are a good thing as blackness begins to overtake my consciousness. I wave it over and treat it like an old friend, surrendering freely to the oblivion being offered. The pain starts to fade, and I give the bleak darkness two enthusiastic thumbs up as it swaddles me completely, and I pass the fuck out.
23
Igroan as I come to. Wherever I am is quiet, but I know it will be safe, which is an unusual feeling for me to have in this world. I stretch out, feeling oddly rejuvenated, and realize I’m dressed. For some reason, that alarms me, and I open my eyes immediately and snap up.
“What the fuck?” I grumble, my voice gravelly.
