“—then I’m going to gut your daughter and hang your spineless son by her entrails.” I twist to glare at Vincentius, my magic tingling my throat. “That I swear upon the Weave, you worthless, backstabbing piece of shit.”
My magic roars within me, his face tinging green from my stare. I blast outwards, vision flashing from the force of it. The binding holding me shatters. Vincentius attempts to counter,but I’m too fast. My magic burns along him, blisters bursting across his face. His gasp of shock is worth the resulting pain. His counter hits me in full force, snuffing my flame and sending punishing razor blades slashing down my arms. My skin splits open, blood weeping, but the pain does not distract me. My magic wraps around him like a lasso and I hurl him over my head and straight at my father.
The Archweaver flicks his wrist, sending Vincentius careening away from him and into the wall. “That’s enough!” Archweaver Atticus Androclaria of the Astrum Order’s bellow is a crack of thunder in this large, stone room. The small army of weavers go still, glinting masks turning to their leader.
I fix my eyes on my father like I would a cobra about to strike. There’s no pain left in my heart. There’s only icy cold rage. It burns and it gives me the strength I need.
Astoria Rose Androclaria slides to standing. The old man mirrors the move, his traditional robes sweeping around his feet.
Atticus is as imposing as I remember. Tall, straight-backed, with magic pouring off him in staggering waves. But there’s a gauntness to him now. His cheeks are sunken, his eyes heavy with dark bags. I used to admire the intricate needlework with such awe as a child. Now, they appear as useful as a peacock’s feathers are to flight. My lips twitch, head tilting back.
“Daughter.”
His voice makes my heart clench, memories flooding me. Mostly terrible, vicious fights, but one surfaces. An old one. I sit in his lap while he reads to me a fanciful tale about faeries and wishes. He called me daughter back then too, and I hate him even more for this long-dead emotion he resurrected.
His green eyes scan me, his disappointed gaze shifts to something akin to pity. “What have you done to yourself?”
My spine straightens, ready to snap back at him, but he doesn’t give me the chance. “Always so proud. Too proud. Toofearless and arrogant.” He shakes his head. “I’ve always said it’s this combination that will lead you down a path of endless ruin.”
He sighs, straightening his sleeve. “Perhaps, it’s my own fault. I listened to Viola’s hopeful nonsense for far too long. After all, the Flame of Creation had not been seen since our grandmother. Such a powerful fire of life and goodness, the spark of purifying heat to birth anew. You should’ve nurtured it and let the black flame of Entropy die. But Viola promised me you’d master both. She promised a fire cycle within you akin to the great rebirthing of the phoenix. You, my powerful daughter, could’ve made it great.”
My heart flutters at the recognition, my chest expanding with my inhale.
Pity comes back to his eyes and it turns my pride into seething rage as he continues, “But instead, you took all that power and potential and let it damn you. Viola was a fool to believe in you.”
I snarl, “Viola loved me!”
“Yes, and look at what that love has done!” He throws his hand towards me. “You’re dying, Astoria!”
I stiffen, eyes widening. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. I’mfine.”
“You’ve cleaved your soul in two! No soul should ever be torn apart like that. The consequences of such a bastardization of yourself will be severe. But I should not be surprised after the curse you have wrought upon us. Now you rot from the inside out just like Alasdair from the resulting corruption.”
My lips thin and I can’t bring myself to look at Lucas. I should deny it. I should lie. Both could save me, but I can’t bring myself to. I want my father to know I’ve bested him. My smile curls, my eyes lighting. “And yet, here I am. Alive and thriving.”
My father scans me slowly, clinically, his green Androclaria eyes shifting to shimmer with the opalescent hue of theArchweaver. The silence rings, the weavers around not daring to breathe. My heart thumps painfully and my brows twitch together. What is he doing? He keeps scanning me over and over and…
I gasp mockingly. “Oh,Papa,” he flinches and I giggle, “don’t tell me you don’t know how I did it.”
A muscle in his jaw flickers. “You should be dead. The curse you cast was dark and wretched, damning your brother to a slow, rotted death of madness. A curse so foul and hungry that it threatens to pollute everyone within the Order like a virus.”
“Yes, buthowdid I cast it without sacrificing my soul?” My smile is feral, my chest pumping. “Can you figure it out?”
Atticus’ eyes narrow. “This was always your problem, child.”
I laugh. “Oh, this should be good. Go ahead. Give me your fucking wisdom.”
“You never understood your limits!” His voice rises, booming through the room. “You are attempting to evade the price of dark magic. It is forbidden for a reason, Astoria! The priesthood burned to purge the world of its wickedness. Whatever you are doing, it has defied the laws of nature, the laws of magic. It is compounding the curse to create something new and terrible. This world and the one beyond tremble from this horror you have done. You stupid girl! You’ll damn us all!”
I set my shoulders, my stance tall and my head held high as I respond, “You call me corrupted, you damn my methods, and yet you wield the same forbidden magic I do.” I throw my hand towards Vi’s body. “Viola is awfully well kept for someone who’s been dead for months. She should’ve been burned with the proper blessings for her soul to rest within the Tapestry, but instead, you’ve kept her like this, for what? To hurt me?” Grief threatens to overwhelm me. Images of my rotting aunt being reanimated like a puppet on a string to write a letter to trick me into returning has me retching. I clutch my stomach and mytears rasp my voice. “You are a disgrace to the laws of magic and a fucking hypocrite.”
He snaps, his pale face flooding with color, “I am the Archweaver! No laws bind me. I wield all magic.”
“So can I!”
“No! You can’t! You’ve allowed your desire for power to corrupt your mind like you allowed a curse to corrupt your soul. Viola should never have concealed what you did. She should never have attempted to bend the laws of magic and nurture your deviant threads!”
“Is that why you killed her? Because she loved me more than your precious rules?” My eyes burn and throat closes. “She saw my potential and tried to help me learn, not snuff out my power likeyouwanted.”
