But I still have a shield up, obviously, because that is the most obvious trick in the book, and it occurs to me that Evram is really not a very creative fighter.
Why should he be? He hasn’t had to do his own dirty work in decades.
So Evram’s blast rattles my head around, because it does still hit me. It leaves my whole body feeling like I’ve been bodyslammed, because that power is, as Destien put it, no joke.
But I am still on my feet, and I have fought through pain and shock before.
Evram is still talking, though, apparently not remembering I can be hit and cast magic at the same time.
“I will undo your spell, and every spell in this world,” Evram tells me, closing the distance between us. “And not only has your partnership with the demon ensured the angels will never expect us to train a Low Earther again, without you to defend them, we will be free to hunt down every last one until no trace of magic in this world remains. And any wizard who comes after you will simply die.” Directly in front of my face, he glares into my eyes, tilting my chin up with his wand. “That is your legacy, Sierra. A punishment perfectly fit to the crime.”
The crime of not being a bootlicker.
That damn wand is at my throat.
But also: That damn wand is right where I can get to it.
All this creativity I’ve been wasting on him, when this fight only requires one thing.
This isn’t about cleverness with magic.
This is about power.
Magic power, yes, absolutely.
But more important than what youcando with power is what youwilldo.
And this raging asshole does not have a stronger will than me.
I focus all my power to my bodyshield.
And then I focus more.
And more, and more, the layers of power increasing in density, in pressure.
I stand on the water and begin to radiate my own glow.
So that’s what causes it.
Evram tries to move the wand, but he’s caught in my gravity now.
He tries to fire, and my magic snuffs his out before it begins.
Because I’m done playing.
I came here today prepared to offer my own damn life for peace, and that wasstilla mistake. I can never let High Earth have me, because for Evram, for that whole world of entitlement, it will never be enough for them. It will never end.
They’ll always want more magic, more obedience, and will punish anyone who steps out of line and punish the whole world and worlds to prove that they can, so no one else will dare.
So. If I can’t protect Low Earth that way?
Then I willlive, goddammit, and focus all their ire on me.
Because as long as I’m here, they’ll come after me, because they’ll know they will never steal back this magic while I draw breath.
But they should also know that I will come forthem.
They don’t deserve my life. My mind, my will, my magic, my power. They never did.
