A heat like nothing I’ve ever felt blazes through my veins, igniting every inch of me.
He murdered my mother. I won’t let him take Zev from me, too.
The well of my power erupts. White-hot and furious, a blinding light in my mind’s eye. It sears through me, pulsing in waves that scream for destruction, for vengeance, for blood.
It’s not my reserves that fuel me. This is something else entirely. Like all my fury was set aflame, and now it scorches through every nerve. Unstoppable. Hungry.
The earth tilts around me.
I senseeverything.
Invisible droplets of water, so small I’ve never even noticed them before, announce themselves, ready to do my bidding.
I flick my hand. Father’s body freezes mid-step, his limbs locking as if I’ve trapped him in ice.
His eyes widen in disbelief, veins pulsing at his temples, lips curling in a silent snarl of confusion and rage. “What—what are you doing?” His words are strangled, forced past teeth clenched with fear.
I can barely believe it myself.
I shouldn’t be able to do this.
Waterwielders can’t control blood—it’s too impure, too corrupted.
Blood is beyond us.
But I can feel it.
It flows beneath his skin, slick and sluggish, sloshing with his terror. It surges in his arteries, his heart hammering to pump it faster.
And I can stop it.
A snarl curves my lips, fueled by a lifetime of being too small, too weak, too afraid.
“I’ve never been enough for you,” I bite out. His body strains, but he can’t move. Can’t speak. “Always lacking. Always failing. Never anything but a tool that you molded into a weapon with your lies. I’m done, Father. I’m fuckingdone.”
The heat of my rage sharpens my control.
My hand squeezes into a fist.
Father gargles, a wet, choking sound, as his blood turns against him. I freeze it in his veins, forcing it into his heart. His limbs lock in agony, mouth wide in a scream that never makes it past his throat.
With a final pulse of power, he collapses.
The rage evaporates from me like mist burned away by sunlight.
All that remains is cold shock, thrumming inside my hollow chest.
I turn.
I run.
My feet slap against the wet ground as I sprint for Zev.
The ice spear juts from his chest, blood trickling in sluggish pink rivers as it melts. I skid to my knees, hands pressed to his skin, feeling for what I can’t bear to lose.
His heart flutters beneath my palm. Weak. Unsteady.
But alive.
