Page 207 of A Courage of the Chosen

“What about my mom? Was she part of your plan? She had no power and you killed her anyway. You could’ve left her alive.”

“I have no explanation for you, Elsie. None that will bring you the closure you’re seeking.”

It’s an answer I expected, but something sinks inside me anyway. Ever since Mom was killed, I’ve hoped, prayed even, that there would be some grand reason as to why such a senseless thing happened to her.

It’s never been more than she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. She stood between Tavish and what he wanted, so he removed that obstacle.

He glances at me over his shoulder with the side of his face that’s still him. “For what it’s worth, if I could undo anything, give back a life I took, it would be hers.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “But not Granny’s? Or Brodie’s? Or any of the other thousands who are dead because of you?”

Tavish cocks a brow; the only response I’ll get to that.

We fall into silence for a while and Tavish tips his head to the cloudless sky. “I wanted peace. That was my plan. A peaceful life and a future.”

I scoff. “You only wanted power, and you’d have done anything to get that. Waging war isn’t how you achieve peace.”

He rounds on me. “Isn’t it?”

When he pushes from the log and takes a step in my direction, I move further away. “You waged war on me, little warrior. Is this world not at peace now?”

“Not yet.”

“Ah.” Tavish’s hands, one Seelie and one Dorche demon, drop into a relaxed stance, but I know better.

“So that’s why you’re here.” Tavish assesses me with a warrior’s intellect, eyes running over my armor and apparent lack of weapons. The defeat is gone, and is slowly replaced by the basic instinct to avoid the thing that’s about to kill you.

I fold my arms and jut my chin, offering him the same non-answer he just gave me.

He prowls forward, shadows amassing around his feet. “I hope you know I won’t make it easy for you. I love you, but death is not someone I’m keen to meet.”

“Yet death is coming for you anyway. You designed your own end when you dragged that dagger across my granny’s throat.”

He shuffles closer, one taloned hand curling while the other gathers darkness around it.

I ready my own magic. Not wielding it yet, but holding it beneath the surface. Let him make the first move. “You sealed your fate when you held me captive and tried to take what wasn’t yours, and when you showed me what you did to my mom in an attempt to break me, you forged me into the edge that would bring about your demise.”

The Craobh Beatha tunnels into the earth, providing me with a surge of power that Tavish, even on his best day, doesn’t stand a chance against.

The last time we fought, I didn’t know what I was capable of. I was afraid of his size, speed, and the powers he possessed. This time, the fear has evaporated, and all that’s left is the certainty that this will only end one way.

When the spirit righted the corruption passed onto me by my father, and the magic I’d absorbed from Rachel, they showed me what true strength looks like.

It’s not about the power you wield, or the physical presence you carry. It comes from deep within, an ability to get back up when life tries to keep you down. It’s about the conviction you carry in your heart, and the might of your soul to stitch you back together again.

Time and time again, I thought I’d failed. Yet here I stand.

I know my own heart, and while it may have deviated a time or two, it’s always stayed on the same path.

There lies the difference between Tavish and I. He never really understood himself. He bounced from one thing to the next, desperately seeking the absolution he had the power to give himself. He made his choices, and I made mine.

Tavish lunges first. With claws, shadows, and darkness, he throws a series of moves with only one intention, putting me down for the last time.

I dodge every swipe, every kick, and every lashing of power using no magic and no physical defense against him. Only simple movements that I make look effortless.

Tavish growls low in his chest, becoming a blur of black and tan, fists and claws.

I keep pace with him, and he can’t even get near me as I surrender to my Seelie senses, letting my body guide my movements. “It’s over, Tavish.”