No more magic. I can’t control it. And last time…
The image of my mother’s body flashes in my mind’s eye. Her armor caving in, the helm crumpling—I let out a scream.
“Ezryn, I’m not going anywhere.” Rosalina’s voice. “Your curse is breaking. You must let it. It will be okay. You can do this.”
No, no, no. She doesn’t understand. She’s too close. If I let the curse break, this trapped well of magic will bubble over, explode out—
The thought makes me panic more. I claw at my skin, unable to shake the vision of my mother’s blood seeping into the earth. “Get away from me!”
“You won’t hurt me,” she says. “Let me help you.”
She touches my shoulder. It feels like static before a storm. “NO!”
Power floods through my arm, and there’s nothing I can do. I thrust my hand out, and a jolt of electricity surges from my palm into the rock wall. It smashes apart, and Rosalina screams, ducking away from the debris.
She’s afraid of me. I told her the truth, but she wouldn’t listen. Now, she sees.
Now, she truly knows.
A beast’s howl erupts through my chest. I can’t hold back the magic anymore. Another shock of electricity bursts from my body, shattering the rest of the rock wall I created. The grove opens up. Sunlight streams down over the crystalline lake. It’s too bright. My entire being is brimming with energy, my eyes burning.
“Ezryn, please stop this,” Rose begs. But there’s nothing I can do. I’m not myself, not even the beast. The magic keeps filling me, and my wolf wants to escape.
I must stop him. For if he leaves, the magic will take me over completely. All the power trapped by the Enchantress’s curse will be unleashed.
Sinking to my knees, I dig my hands into the earth. The grass dies beneath my touch.
“Ez, stop! The trees!”
Rose keeps screaming at me. But I can barely hear her over the rushing of blood in my head.
“Ezryn, STOP!”
But I can’t.
More sounds clatter. The clink of armor, men shouting.
I force my eyes open. Black veins of decay slither across the ground, leaking from my fingertips.
“Y-your Highness?”
I look up. Standing at the edge of the grove is a cluster of Spring Soldiers.
They’re staring at me.
Witnessing me.
My helmet … Where is it? No, no, no.
“No!” I howl, and the decay shoots out further, leaching into the lake. A black ooze like oil slicks over the surface.
Rosalina runs up beside me and moves as if to touch my shoulder but pulls back.
“That cannot be the High Prince,” one of the guards says. “Prince Kairyn said he may be here. But it cannot be.”
“The fae woman said his name,” another says urgently. “And there, on the ground! His helm!”
Rosalina holds her arms up to them. “Please, you have to get help. You must send word to Castletree at once—”
