My father looks down upon his children, his face alight with delight at the sight of his creature—his perfect fighting machine. I fear he's long planned this for my brother—the sinister reason my father had him return. Thatcher uses a dagger from his boot to slice his palm, letting thick blood flow over the ritual area. I realize I’m too late.
Thundering footsteps sound behind me as Barlowe moves closer.
“Darkness protect me,” I whisper, hoping that speaking my prayers aloud will hasten their answer.
I stand, preparing for the darkness to envelop my body; the force I’ve resisted all these years is now the only thing that might keep me alive. I lower my internal defenses, built up over many years—it’s time the Kingdom of Daramveer meets my other half.
But nothing happens.
Barlowe grabs a fistful of my hair and hurls me through the air as if I weigh nothing. A scream catches in my throat as I crash into a half-stone wall, shattering it. The crowd gasps, expecting their princess to be declared dead. Yet pain does not come; instead, a profound silence reassures me that what I summoned is on its way.
My eyes crack open, dust and rubble sliding off my body. I know my autumn eyes have transformed—now painted the darkest black. My father leaps to his feet, peering over the edge of the arena, his hands weakly gripping the railing. The creature pauses, allowing me time to shed the additional debris, watching me as if I am prey.
I lock eyes with my father, my gaze darker than the night sky.
My voice echoes like the crashing rocks moments before. "You didn’t think I remembered, did you, Father?” He staggers back as a chilling, unfamiliar voice cuts through the air. “Fiveyears ago, when my mother died, I lay unconscious for days. Do you remember? You attempted your precious resurrection ritual on me, suspecting I was the vessel for Kalix. Didn’t you?”
The color drains from his already pale face, leaving him with a ghostly expression as I continue with a wicked smirk.
“You thought it failed. Unaware, you orchestrated these trials, summoning the strongest from each kingdom—desperate to find your vessel.” My gaze lowers as I peer up through the darkness clouding my vision. “But what you didn’t realize, father, is that your ritual partially succeeded. A fragment of Kalix was resurrected that night. Into me.”
His mouth falls open.
“I am the vessel for the Great Wiitch, Kalix, and I think it’s time you two met.”
Black veins creep up my arms, climbing to my shoulders like a serpent slithering beneath my skin. “Kalix and I have coexisted harmoniously for years right under your nose. Blinded by your hatred and disgust for me, you overlooked the very thing you’ve sought your whole life.”
I move forward, my shadows swirling chaotically around me as I surrender to the surge of power. Standing taller than ever, the darkness spreads around me like vines reaching for sunlight. “I haven't lived in the shadows because I was helpless or afraid, Father. I’ve dwelled in the shadows all these years because my other half really fucking prefers it there.”
Chapter 34
The dark veins spread like a disease throughout my entire body. Barlowe bounds toward me again, flipping over stones as if they are pebbles. Meanwhile, my father's mouth hangs open in shock—I drink in the smell of fear oozing from his weak body. He has spent the last few weeks pouring all his magic and soul into finding Kalix, a power that has flowed straight to me.
I spin around as Barlowe growls nearby—my brother has morphed into this creature before me. He didn’t ask for this fate and doesn’t deserve it. Familiar eyes peek out at me through his rough, changed exterior.
Memories of us as children running through the castle's winding hallways flood my mind. Our loud laughter would echo down the halls, our father often disciplining us for causing a ruckus around the grounds—yet Barlowe always took most of the blame, allowing our father to direct his anger at him instead of at me. Now, Barlowe—my protector for most of my life—stands before me, ready to strike.
My eyes catch sight of a fallen rock. I flick my wrist, causing the stone to hover, waiting for my command. The stone isweightless under my control and the feeling of the overwhelming power feels euphoric after all these years of containment.
The creature pauses as I weave my darkness into his mind. "You will not harm me or anyone I love. You know me in more ways than one. You fear me, although I no longer fear you. Half of me comes from a place similar to yours. You will do as I say."
His eyes light up, as if my words are a symphony to his ears, a desperate call he's been waiting for in the darkness. Barlowe tilts his head as a silent understanding passes between us.
My eyes narrow, showing no sign of the old Briar. "You know what to do, but wait for my signal."
The creature turns, Thatcher standing in utter disbelief at the completed ritual site. Instead of celebrating, he scans for any escape, trapped by his depleted magic. He realizes he is facing his final moments at the hands of something he killed long ago.
"You filthy liar," Thatcher screams. "I knew something was off about you."
I click my tongue and step toward him, my axes angled to strike. "Oh, Thatcher, always so dramatic," I say with a smile, signaling Barlowe to pause. "I think it’s time we finally address some things."
Thatcher remains frozen as I approach him. He looks incredibly weak at this moment which brings me a sick pleasure.
"You aren’t so tough now, are you?" I hiss.
His eyes, sagging with defeat, meet mine—the same eyes as Maines. An image of Maines's smiling face crosses my mind—her ability to love deeply shines even in the darkest times, despite sharing the same blood as the monster before me.
"This is for Maines," I shout, swinging my axe into his left leg. His scream and the crunch of his leg echo through the Cita Mountains.
