I glance at my arm, where blue bruises had once formed, remembering the many unpleasant encounters with ThatcherMadden—the years of torment he caused to so many, including those I love. I remember fighting against his disgusting hands on the roof. Now, I won't justtryto cause him pain—Iwill.
"This is for me," I declare, swinging my other axe and hitting bone once more. The cracking sound echoes in my mind. The color drains from his face.
Thatcher’s body hits the cold ground, blood pooling around his lower half. His face contorts with pain. A snarl from Barlowe behind me takes me back to the night he was murdered, lying in a pool of his own blood, while Thatcher fled—a coward, as always. I step forward, towering over his fallen body. My eyes turn the darkest shade of black as I lean closer.
"This will hurt. This won’t be nice for you. And you can be sure that once I make a promise, I keep it."
I look over my shoulder at Barlowe, who waits unmoving for my command.
Thatcher raises an arm, coughing up blood. "Please… Briar," he begs, his blood staining my pants. "I’ll tell you everything."
"Pathetic," I scoff, glancing at my axes, which hang gracefully in my hands, their gold metal gleaming in the light. The anticipation is killing him more than his mangled legs.
"And this is for my brother, who you murdered so easily." I raise both axes as he flinches beneath them, preparing for the final strike.
I pause. "However, I think it’s only fair he gets his final revenge. It’s his turn to watch the light leave your eyes. And just like you said—I’m not sorry for this."
I raise my hand, aligned with my chest, and shoot a black flame from my palm—the antithesis of light. My power—pure hatred and darkness—emanates directly from the Great Wiitch herself. It envelops his body, and before my eyes, his life force begins to drain slowly. A wave of pleasure washes over me as Iturn my gaze back to my father who, still immobile, watches in horror.
"You wanted a show, Father? You wanted darkness? Well, here I am!"
I snap my fingers and Barlowe pounces on Thatcher’s body—his screams of horror and rage fill the air as Barlowe exacts his final revenge. I dodge the splattering of blood and turn to see my father pushing through what remains of the crowd above. I step forward, glancing back to see Barlowe rising from Thatcher's body, leaving nothing but bones. Even now, I can’t help but flinch at the sight of my brother—a creature of darkness covered in blood, with a wild look of relief in his familiar eyes.
Screams echo above me, but I focus only on controlling the power coursing through my veins. I can't let it take over completely, or I'll be lost. I swallow the uncontrollable sensation, knowing it's time my father finally met his daughter and the Great Wiitch he has so desperately sought.
"I'll be back, Barlowe. I promise to try to help you. Don’t leave this arena," I say as I order him to stay in the shadows.
I rush up the steps, moving carefully to conserve the power in my veins. My heart pounds like war drums. The townspeople and the mentors scatter at the sight of the darkness, leaving my father to fend for himself.
Perfect.
The king sprints through the forest—his weakened body a disadvantage to him. He was once a mighty king but he chose to sacrifice his magic and soul for a lost cause. He races through the trees and across the familiar stream, water splashing all around him. As if the forest conspires with me, he runs toward the cave, its opening beckoning like an old friend—a place I know all too well.
Remains of my friends and I are evident at the entrance, as if I'm walking directly into a memory. Rohhit lay there, bleedingout, while Oak did his best to assist me—visions of Rose and my mother flash before me. Silas, the one who always grounds me and pulls me back each time. These reminders fuel my determination to make my father pay for the pain he caused to so many.
Ignoring the signs, my father runs deeper into the cave, driven by panic. As he nears the small pond that I know all too well, he stops inches from the water’s edge. The water sparkles like diamonds, putting on a show unlike any before, this time for the King of Daramveer.
"Stunning, isn’t it?" I say as I round the corner, standing between him and the only exit. "I never knew waters like this existed until recently. You should really get out more, Father. Staying cooped up in the castle isn’t good for you. It can drive you crazy, don’t you think?"
I move forward, my footsteps silent as if floating on air. "This world has so much to offer if you allow it." I lift a rock with my finger, twirling it effortlessly in the air.
"Briar. I need you to think about your next move here. You aren't yourself. I never knew all those years ago that someone had infected you. I... I could have helped you. Guided you to do great things. Please think about this."
My father steps back, his foot dipping into the water. Small, glowing eyes peer from above the horizon, watching and waiting. The same horrifying creature lurking nearby settles into the shallowing water.
"Oh, I’ve thought about this moment for years. You’ve never done anything for me. Your entire life has been about your personal gains. You killed my mother," I step closer, pushing him backward. "You sat there and ordered some idiot to kill your only son, and, like a coward, you did nothing."
"You think you’ve figured it all out, right? Your mother. My only son." My father mocks. "Kalix is swaying your thoughts right now, Briar. Think of Daramveer. The people need me!"
Black flames dance around my tattooed hands. "You used me, yourdaughter, as a vessel without caring if it would kill me or not." I grit my teeth. "You have destroyed our family and our kingdom. You’ve caused more pain than you’ll ever realize—now it’s your turn."
The black flames around my arms dance against the shimmering water. My eyes narrow as Briar Blackbyrne begins to fade away. Taking another step forward, I feel my soul merge deeper within my body, our souls blending slowly. My father staggers back—desperate for something to shield him from the magic he once desired.
"Look at you," I huff. "You drained your magic for these rituals. For what? To fail again?"
His expression shifts, and a smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. "Oh, Briar. You are mistaken. I haven’t failed. You think you know everything. You think you’ve outsmarted us all. But you are blinded by hate—just like your mother and just like you accuse me of." His eyes darken. "I didn't fail. Kalix is here, before me, and she's about to emerge from you. She will ruin you and everything around you. The rituals were completed—she can fully manifest now, and surprise, we have someone else eager to join her. A war is coming and you aren’t ready."
I flare my black magic, lifting his body above the water. "Enough!" I snarl. "You are vile. You are nothing. And you are dead."
