“I loved you.” The words hurt more than I expected. “You were my big sister. I worshipped you.”
Something flickers across her face—too fast to read, too brief to trust. Then it’s gone, replaced by the cold hunger that’s become her default expression.
“Love.” She spits the word. “Love doesn’t matter. Power matters. And you had all of it while I had none.”
“You had witch magic. Powerful witch magic—some of the strongest in our generation.”
“Not enough to open the Crown. Not enough to be what our bloodline required.” Her hands clench at her sides. “I could seal it. Contain it. Guard it like a servant guards a treasure she can never touch. While you—you could wield it. Control it. Become something more than human.”
“So you murdered an innocent girl.” I let the accusation hang between us. “Lyric Valek never did anything to you. She was barely twenty years old, just learning to control her abilities. And you butchered her in a ritual circle just like this one.”
“She was a means to an end.” Morrigan’s voice doesn’t waver. “Her Fire-Bringer blood could have given me what I needed. It should have worked.”
“But it didn’t. Because you don’t have one drop of Fire-Bringer blood. You can’t absorb what you can’t contain.”
“No.” A smile spreads across her face—predatory, triumphant. “But you can. You have both bloodlines, little sister. Witch magic and Fire-Bringer flame, perfectly combined. When I drain you, I won’t just get the flame. I’ll get everything. The power to open the Crown. The power to wield it. The power that should have been mine from the beginning.”
She raises her hands, and the ritual circle blazes brighter.
The attack comes fast.
Dark magic lashes out from the ritual circle—tendrils of shadow that move with serpentine intelligence, seeking my throat, my heart, the places where my power runs closest to the surface. I throw a ward up instinctively, white fire blazing to meet the assault.
The shadows recoil from my flames, but they don’t disperse. They reform, adapt, come at me from different angles. Morrigan’s had decades to study Fire-Bringer abilities, to design countermeasures. Her shadows absorb the heat of my fire and keep coming.
“Did you think this would be easy?” She laughs as more shadows pour from her hands. “I’ve been preparing for this moment since you were a child. Every ward, every trap, every defense in this fortress—built specifically to counter you.”
I dodge a tendril that gets past my guard, feel it slice through the air where my head was a moment ago. Another catches my arm, and pain erupts—cold, numbing pain that spreads from the contact point.
My fire flares in response, burning away the shadow, but more take its place. She’s not trying to kill me quickly. She’s wearing me down. Depleting my reserves until I’m weak enough for the ritual.
Think. I need to think.
The ritual circle is the key. Everything flows from it—the shadows, the power amplification, the drain she’s preparing. If I can disrupt it?—
I launch a blast of white fire at the circle’s edge. The flames hit the barrier Morrigan erected and splash harmlessly aside.
“Nice try.” She sounds almost fond. “But I told you—these wards are designed specifically for Fire-Bringer flame. The more power you throw at them, the stronger they get.”
She’s right. I can feel the barrier absorbing my fire, converting it to fuel for her defenses. Every attack makes her stronger.
So I stop attacking.
I shift to pure defense, my fire forming a shell around my body while I assess the situation. The ritual chamber. The focusing crystals. The chains waiting overhead. The channelsin the floor, designed to direct power—or blood—toward the central circle.
Morrigan built this room to drain me. Every element serves that purpose. The crystals amplify the transfer. The chains suppress resistance. The channels ensure nothing is wasted.
It’s elegant, in a horrifying way. The work of someone who’s been obsessing over this moment.
“Getting tired, little sister?” Morrigan’s shadows press against my defensive shell. “You can’t hold that forever. And when it breaks, I’ll be waiting.”
She’s right about that too. My reserves are vast, but not infinite. The assault on the fortress depleted me more than I admitted to Auren. I can feel the edges of exhaustion creeping in, the fire burning lower with each passing minute.
I need a different approach.
“Why did you help Ulrik destroy Valdoria?” I ask, buying time to think. “You could have come home. You could have?—”
“Come home to what? To watch you rule? To bow to my baby sister while the court whispered about the princess who couldn’t wield the Crown?” She hurls another wave of shadows at me. “I would rather burn it all than watch you take what should have been mine.”
