Verena
THE LIGHT PULSED OUT SLOWLY, almost reluctant to leave me. I hovered in its remnants, watching the world return piece by piece. Below me, Ronan still knelt, his head bowed, smoke curling once again from his shoulders.
It took a moment for me to understand how his wings could unfurl. How Ford’s shields brushed awake against the stale air, bright enough now to sear the dark. How Callum’s fire reignited, brutal and holy, pouring from his palms as he struck down the nearest soldier. Their magic had returned. Replenished.
I looked down to where my own hands glowed, gold streaking through my skin where ink once had, power weaving from something newly born. Bolts of light leapt from my fingertips, spearing into Nyctom’s poisoned realm, splitting across the ground, spreading like a jolt.
Not toward Obrann or Fritz. Not toward Isolde or their army. But towardthem,my friends, my family. My magic was feeding them, singing through their own veins until they glowed.
And they radiated so fucking brilliantly from it.
It wasn’t rage that burned inside me now, but my own power, gifted by a curse, born by a bloodline, who dared to fight back.
I was venom and soulflame. The nightmare, and the God who chased it.
The current of my magic drew me back down to the ground, steadying my feet. I drove my hands into the floor, power cracking through me like thunder splitting the sky. The air convulsed, stone screaming and fracturing as blinding light burst outward in a shockwave that flung everyone to their knees. The energy flooded outward, spilling through the cracks, racing along the marble, searing against the pillars. It crawled up the walls, cleansing centuries of decay, shimmering as it moved, reshaping what had long since died.
Then came the sound. A deep, thrumming pulse beneath the surface, steady and alive.
Magic, breathing again.
The plague that had strangled this land recoiled, shrieking as it dissolved into itself. I could feel it dying, feel the Bale breaking apart molecule by molecule, until only dust remained.
Nyctom exhaled, the kingdom shuddering in release. And just as I lifted my head, feeling the air clear around me—
Reve struck.
Pain shot viciously through me, undoing every breath I’d just fought to restore. I looked at him, one glance, and reached into the thread that tethered his life to the defiled power—and I pulled.
Magic tore from his core with a sound like wind shattering glass. His face drained of color as he dropped to his knees, the pointed edges of his ears smoothing back to curved right as the three rings slipped from his fingers, clinking against his feet.
I moved closer, looming over him now. How many times had he done this to me? Laughed while I begged for breath, pretended kindness was beneath him?
And though I could have smiled, could have relished the sight, I didn’t. His rage, his grief toward me, they weren’t without reason. They weren’t misplaced.
A tilt forward and the distance folded, my breath meeting his before my words could. “I heard their screams,” I murmured. “Your family. The way they begged.” He flinched, tears bright and human again. “And I killed them anyway.”
The words left me like a confession and a sentence all at once, his sob breaking open the last shred of hope.
“They were becoming like you.” I ripped my blade from the sheath on his hip, leveling its point before his throat. “I ended them before they could spread the rot further.”
His eyes widened, disbelief filling lines into his face. He looked at me like I was something he’d never seen before, something the world should never have allowed to exist.
“You’re an insane, wretchednightmare,” he rasped.
I paused, then nodded once. “Finally, you get it.”
He tried to speak again, but the air changed, the impact from my fist striking him full force, slamming into him with a crack that split the wall behind him. Stone shuddered, dust rained, and he crumpled to the floor, barely breathing, but spared.
Isolde moved hastily, prowling around me with intent, and I waited to turn until the moment she struck. Our magic collided at the same time, mine a blaze of molten gold, hers a calamity of murk and malice.
She blocked every strike with a flick of her wrist, her laughter sharp. “You keep ruining my fun, you know.”
Her conjured serpent formed along the air, lashing for my throat—
It passed through me.
Her eyes widened, and I laughed. Her viper couldn’t touch me. Because we were born of the same corruption. Still, her curse met mine, trying to keep up at what only kept building inside of me, until it broke.
