“I want my sister back,” I demand. “NOW!” And asI scream the word at the top of my lungs, the Nightshade lashes out at Madame Vera with a murky tentacle.
She stares at the foggy appendage wrapping around her wrist and, for a moment, there’s a flicker of uncertainty behind her mask of arrogance. It doesn’t last long.
She fearlessly seizes the tendril of energy. The Necroseals on her fingers pulse as she draws power from them. The Nightshade’s tentacle sizzles from her touch and the beast emits a high-pitched squeal as her fingers melt right through the energy.
The Nightshade takes flight, seeking refuge in the shadowy corners of the temple. I sever myself from its consciousness and drop to my knees. The next second, she’s on me, her palm flat on my chest. Her nails curl forward, digging into my skin like daggers.
I try to back away, but Madame Vera has a hold on something deep within me, and she’s squeezing it, tightening her grip around it. She pulls on it, and my chest feels like it’s about to burst.
It’s my soul, I think. This is what she did to Taron. I choke and gasp for air, my vision swimming as I feel my soul beginning to leave my body.
“You’re still young. So very talented,” Madame Vera says, her voice a twisted melody of persuasion. “Things don’t have to end this way. Why don’t you work for me? I can teach you things.”
Never, I want to mutter, but my lips refuse to move.
“Pity about your scruples,” she adds. “A little lessconscience, and you might have been truly magnificent. Like me, perhaps.”
My breath comes in bursts, my knees threatening to buckle beneath me. I can make out Taron, watching, fists balled. I can feel the thick black energy of his hatred.
But he doesn’t intervene. He can’t. I squeeze my eyes shut.
Never, I try to mutter once more, still to no avail. But there’s a flicker inside of me. A little ember that refuses to be snuffed out. As Madame Vera begins to feed on my soul, I grit my teeth, harnessing the full extent of my anger and my hatred and my sorrow.
Every sinew in my body coils as I concentrate on gathering the energy, on flooding it back into the Nightshade. As I watch it rise from the shadows behind her, I, too, stand taller, my knees strengthening beneath me.
There’s movement in the corner of my eye. My heart lifts as I see Taron hurling himself towards us. But his blue irises are glassy, looking right through me as though I don’t exist. Then I realize it’s not me he’s trying to help – it’s her.
As the Nightshade draws itself up to its full height, ready to strike, Taron throws himself in front of Madame Vera. His elbow is raised as though he’s holding an invisible shield, and his heels are planted firmly on the floor.
The Nightshade’s tendrils smash against Taron’s barrier with a hard force, again and again, violently trying to reach for Madame Vera.
Taron straightens his elbow until his palm is facingthe Nightshade. He groans, and it’s a raw sound, almost a scream, drawn from deep within his chest. He uses all his energy to redirect the creature’s flailing limbs, compelling them to crash to the floor. He’s trying to keep them pinned with all his might.
I choke as Madame Vera drops her hold on me and turns. “Such an ungrateful girl,” she says, brushing herself off. Then, with a snap of her fingers, an army of grotesque hands rises from the floor. “I was only trying to help you.”
More hands are sprouting up, grasping at the Nightshade. It squeals and writhes as the hands slowly drag it down beneath the floor, beneath the ground. Where to, I don’t think I want to know.
“You should’ve accepted my offer.” Madame Vera’s stare is full of hatred. She glances at Taron. “Kill her.”
Slowly, he turns, his movements stiff.
“Taron?” I mutter.
He takes a step forward. There is only a chilling emptiness in his eyes. I scramble back, away from him. He blinks and stops.
“What are you doing, boy?” Madame Vera grabs his chin, pulling his face towards her with a forceful grip. She whispers into his ear, and the largest Necroseal on her ring finger glows with a familiar yellow light.
I’ve seen it before, in Taron’s vision. When she first captured his soul within it.
He nods and advances. His movements are sluggish as if fighting against them.
“Taron, stop it … you can resist her,” I insist, slowly reversing away from him until my back meets the cool stone of a column. “Don’t let her control you.”
My hands are trembling. I try to conjure a whip from whatever scraps of energy I can gather within myself. But desperation is a fickle thing, made even more unstable when mixed with fear.
I lash my weak attempt at a whip at Taron’s feet, but he grabs it, twisting his forearm around it to draw me closer to him.
“Please,” I plead, warm tears trickling down my cheeks. “I know you’re still in there…”
