The Priestess smiled through the fury. “You see? You still remember who gave you shape and a voice.”
The storm above her lowered, and the shadows trembled.
I felt it then. The shadows were fighting back and feeding off her darkness. Every twisted spell she had poured into them. Every command. Every cruel little hook she’d buried inside their magic to make it obey.
They were pulling it out and using it up, burning through it so she couldn’t reach it.
The silver light inside them spread faster, racing through the black like roots through soil. The shadows began to tear themselves apart and knit back together in the same breath, shedding pieces of her influence like old skin.
And that was when I realized what was breaking her. The Priestess’ power was breaking because it was never her power to begin with. She’d manipulated the shadows, Malore, Rendel, Gideon, and more. She guided their power, but it wasn’t her own. And they were all slipping away. It wasn’t about mestepping in and fighting her. She was fighting herself, destroying herself.
The Priestess’ smile faded.
“No,” she whispered as the shadows surged.
The storm she’d built collapsed inward, but instead of striking the Academy, it poured into them. They drank it down in one enormous, impossible wave. The entire room filled with light as the shadows rose to the ceiling and swept back down around the Priestess.
She fought instantly.
Dark sparks flew from her hands, slicing through the air. The shadows broke apart and reformed. She shouted words I didn’t understand, and the Academy answered by slamming several doors shut at once.
The sound boomed through the halls as the Priestess tried again. The shadows wrapped around the doorway, the pillars, the floor, every path her power tried to take.
And then they began to taunt her, not with words, but with memories.
The younger Priestess smiling as a frightened student collapsed from a spell gone wrong…
The Priestess turning away from Barlen as he begged for mercy…
The Priestess reaching toward my mother through iron bars, taunting her daughter…
Each image flickered through the air, one after another, and with every vision, the shadows tightened closer.
The Priestess staggered. “I made you powerful.”
The shadows hissed.
You made us prisoners.
Her face contorted, and she thrust one hand toward me. “Maeve, command them to stop.”
I stared at her. “They’re not mine to control.”
After everything, she still believed I’d want to command them.
That was the difference.
The whole difference.
“Show me mercy,” she whimpered as the shadows swirled above her.
“I won’t command them,” I said softly.
“Save me.”
The shadows stilled near her, and even the Academy seemed to listen.
The Priestess’ eyes narrowed on me as if she’d gotten her point across to me.
