I was going to die.
I saw the dagger coming too late to get out of the way, watched it
spiraling through the air towards me with astonishing speed.
The monster in question stood a few short feet from me, grinning
wickedly through blood-red lips, another dagger at the ready. Her
brown eyes were bright, full of morbid anticipation as they followed
the path of the weapon. Long dark hair was tied back in an
unyielding braid that ran to her hips, beaded with sweat and blood.
Red leather armor protected the majority of her body, a striking
contrast to her flawless dark skin.
My shields locked into place a millisecond before the dagger could
embed itself in my throat.
The blade disintegrated on impact with the solid mass of jade
magic, becoming nothing more than dust that rained down at my feet.
I conjured knives of my own, willing the sharp glinting steel and
silver into existence, small double-edged and deadly. I barely felt
the weight of them in my hands before I tossed them towards her.
They didn’t move as fast as hers had, and she quickly maneuvered
out of their way, taking cover behind a crumbling stone wall in the
center of the room. No surprises there; I was nowhere near as
skilled or experienced as she was. Still, I hoped for some luck – a
miracle that gave me the upper hand I needed. I kept the barrage of
crafted magic coming, even as I stepped toward her, hoping that the
sheer number of deadly blades would beat the grinning assassin.
“Is that the best you’ve got?” She called out, mocking laughter in
her voice. I could no longer see her, successfully hidden behind the
wall, but I could sense her power – the magic like a beacon in the
dark. It was mischievous and sinister, a wicked mix of death magic
and sharp, experienced intelligence.
I called up more of my own power, jade smoke forming in the air
around me, grinning as it coalesced and solidified into an almost
exact replica of myself – a trick that I had only learned recently.
Shoulder-length golden blonde hair tied back in a messy bun, bright
green eyes, and a curvy figure dressed in black leather armor, both
hands gripping blades– the entire image glowing faintly with dancing
green light, like an otherworldly aurora.
I sent my magic clone towards the wall and the assassin behind it,
strengthening the mirage until the aura light vanished within it.
Now it looked exactly like me – no one would be able to tell the
difference, not even the woman I had unleashed it upon.
Her daggers flew towards the clone as it rounded the corner, the
assassin huffing a victorious laugh as they embedded themselves into
the armor protecting the chest. The clone fell backward, landing
heavily on the floor, unmoving. The killer followed, standing over
it, hands empty now.
She was out of weapons at last, just as I had hoped she would
be.
I made my move, grounding my feet and lashing out with my power,
sending wave after wave of despair into her body – the emotion
appearing as a purple so dark it was almost black. It pushed its way
in, her body sagging until she could no longer stand. As she fell to
her knees beside the clone, I willed the despair to transform,
becoming barbed vines that wrapped themselves around her, holding
her tight.
I sauntered over, a sword forming in my hand, shields coming down.
The woman tilted her head so that she could watch my approach, eyes
wary. I held the sword out, the tip of the blade under her chin.
“You’re finished, Assassin Barbie,” I said breathlessly, a smile
playing at the corner of my lips.
“This is done. Say it.”
Her eyes narrowed, lip pulled back in a silent snarl. I pushed the
sword harder, a line of crimson running down her throat, the vines
squeezing tighter. “Say it.”
“We’re done.” The woman hissed, a little breathless now too. “Get
this thing off me.”
“Never trust an enemy.” She hissed in my face, eyes flashing with
bloodlust. “They lie.”
Shit. My eyes followed the movement of the blade as it was raised
from my throat and into the air, the woman’s grip firm on the handle
as she brought it back down again, aiming for my heart. My magic
pulsed out, sending a shockwave through the room. The assassin was
lifted off me, flung backward, and thrown into the wall. She lay
there, stunned, eyes unfocused.
I couldn’t let her reach them. Calling up my magic again, I was
distressed to feel it beginning to tire – exertion still an issue –
even after months of building my strength and stamina. I had to end
this fight soon, or I would be helpless. I willed the power within
me to hold out a little longer, to keep from vanishing and leaving
me defenseless.
I conjured a bow – feeling smoke swirling through my fingers, using
the image in my mind to create it, only for the weapon to solidify
in my hand. Arrows were next, sharp and gleaming tips of metal that
connected with dark wooden shafts. Black feathers on the ends
shimmered green as they moved. They were as beautiful as they were
deadly. I nocked one, drawing back the bowstring, and let loose,
following the arrow’s progression as best I could as it sped towards
the assassin.
She was on her feet now, daggers in hand, eyes narrowed as she,
too, took in the flight of the arrow. I readied another one, hands
shaking and eyes wide, as the woman simply knocked the bolt out of
the air with the tip of her dagger. What the actual hell?
She smirked and started towards me, her steps confident and
unhurried. Another arrow shot toward her. Again, an effortless
evade. Another and another, over and over, until there were none
left. Assassin Barbie was too close for me to conjure up anymore
anyway, barely out of arms reach. I let go of the bow; it
vanished before it hit the ground, the magic returning to me slower
than it had earlier.
A dagger bounced off my hurriedly made shield, the magic too weak
now to disintegrate it. The assassin hissed anyway, vibrations from
the contact running up her arm as her hand shot back from the
unsuccessful attack.
She eyed my defenses critically, a leer creeping over her lips as
she circled me. I turned as she moved, keeping her from my back and
making my own observations. She was limping slightly, her right leg
injured. “You’re weakened,” she said, brown eyes gleaming. “You'll
be defenseless in minutes, and then I can kill you. All I have to do
is wait it out."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes, even as my heart pounded in my
chest so hard that I was sure she could hear it. I wasn't out of the
fight yet, I reminded myself, but I needed time. I needed a
distraction to keep her busy while my energy was replenished.
"Tick." My shield faltered as she spoke, and the evil grin widened
on my attacker's face. "Tock."
I took a grounding breath, digging deep within myself. I could do
this.
"Tick."
Time seemed to slow as I pulled up the last of my magic, wrapping
it around myself like a blanket. I pulled what I could from the room
around us, too, the shadows dancing like a black flame. Then, what
little light there was, was extinguished, throwing the world into
suffocating darkness.
"Tock."
I dropped my faltering shield, spinning through the gloom in
silence, spinning out of reach of the daggers that arched through
the air towards my face.
The shadows enveloped my attacker, growing heavy – heavier with
each passing second. Each breath she took thinner than the last, the
shadows constricting against her on every breath out. I wasn't going
to be caught out again – I couldn't be – there was nothing left for
me to use. I couldn't declare victory until it was utterly
irrefutable. This woman had to bleed all over the floor, and it had
to be now. She was still trying to fight; I could hear her
struggling against her bonds, daggers remaining in her hands.
As she fought for air, small gasps permeated the silence, the only
way that I could pinpoint her location. The shadows tightened again,
and those daggers dropped to the floor as her arms were pinned. I
dove for them, sliding the short distance along the floor on my
knees, scooping one of the blades up with my left hand, slashing out
into the shadows. The knife stuck into something substantial, and my
firm grip on the handle, mixed with the speed of my movements, spun
me around.
I let go, using the momentum to thrust me to my feet on the
opposite side of the woman from where I had started. I heard the
other dagger clatter across the floor, having kicked it away from
her in my travels. It was in the darkness to my right, close but not
close enough. The woman wrapped in shadows screamed, the sound full
of pain and fury, dampened only by her lack of full breath.
"Bitch!" She howled. "You fucking piece of shit!"
I searched for the final weapon, falling back to my knees and using
my hands to feel around in the dark. My magic sputtered out
entirely, the shadows and light returning to their original forms
and places.
As the light returned to the room, I spotted the dagger, inches
from my splayed hands. I grabbed it, spinning to face the screaming
woman. She was unrestricted now and so full of fury.
The woman was free. I had her dagger. And then… I didn't.
It left my hand, flying end over end towards her, moving so quickly
that she hardly even noticed it – too intent on pulling the other
one from her thigh, hissing and throwing curses at me. It hit her in
the chest, dead center. The loud thump as it entered the leather
armor amplified in the silence that followed it.
We both froze, looking at it in disbelief. The quiet stretched out
as I stared, my mind struggling to comprehend what I was seeing.
"You're dead, Valdis." A laugh bubbled up from my chest and escaped
my lips as I spoke. The shock and exhaustion were making me giddy.
"Well, fuck me, Sapphira." She huffed incredulously, eyes alight.
"What an epic throw. Who knew you had that in you?"
I giggled again, all of my muscles jumping while my head spun. "I
hate to admit that it was a fluke. I doubt I could do it again."
"Yes, well. Don't try and cut my leg off again, either. That
fucking hurt."
Slow clapping interrupted us from nearby, a whisper of mocking
laughter. We both turned to see a monster standing in the doorway.
Black hair matched her eyes, brown leathery, semi-translucent skin,
and long claw-like nails on skinny fingers. Murky fog billowed
around her skeletal feet—a creature of darkness – of nightmares and
fear.
"And so now our savior can fight," the Night Hag stated
impassively, black eyes burrowing into my soul. "At last."
"Except you practiced on your creatures," Mora hissed, turning her
deep gaze on her.
"Not on the King's Second."
"All is well, I didn't die, and Sapphira learned a few new tricks.
Our King will be pleased."
The Night Hag scoffed, pointing a devilishly sharp nail at her.
"Your arrogance will be the death of you, Necromancer."
"Yes, but not today." Valdis shrugged, smiling at Mora sweetly and
moving to stand beside me. "It seems that you will be stuck with me
for a while yet."
I wasn't sure how Valdis was still standing; her blood was running
down her leg from the wound I had inflicted – the cuts on her head
and throat too. Yet, she stood firm, as though we hadn't just tried
to kill each other – as though it had been nothing at all.
"Training over for today. Clean up, and get out." Mora said,
exasperated, as she turned to leave.
She paused in the doorway, though, glancing over her shoulder and
frowning in my direction, dark eyes looking me up and down. "And
Sapphira, you had better not pass out on my floor, or my next guests
will make a meal out of you."
"She's right; those Pishacha guys would love to take a bite out of
your juicy self," Valdis warned, groaning as her skin began to
stitch itself back together. The Necromancer threw a wink my way, a
tight grin on her lips. "And not in a fun way."
A wave of her hand and all evidence of our session vanished. No
more blood. No more scorch marks or magic residue. Even the
crumbling stone wall was gone. The room was as clean as when we had
arrived – when Valdis had insisted that a few rounds in Mora's
domain were 'just what the doctor ordered.'
"Are you hungry?" She asked, head tilted to the side, eyes running
over my flagging body. "I always feel like stew after a good fight.
How about you?"
The question was absurd, not at all what I expected. And yet, it
was pure Valdis. The wickedly lovely Necromancer had made her famous
stew for me once before. After she had made me enter my mindscape
and put things right. I'd had to face my fears and remove magic put
in place against my knowledge, and the experience had sucked big
time.
But the stew was incredible, a large variety of vegetables, chili,
garlic, peanuts, and chicken. It filled the stomach and soothed the
soul.
My belly growled at the memory, and in anticipation of another
taste, answering Valdis better than my words could have.
"Come on, let's get out of here." She wrapped her arm around my
shoulders, keeping me upright and leading me out the door.
We passed Mora in the hall, leading a group of what I assumed were
Pishacha towards the room we had just vacated. I was glad that
Valdis still had hold of me, or I think I would have run screaming.
Or fell to the floor, unconscious, and been eaten. The second option
would have been the only one not too long ago, but you know, yay for
growth! The Pishacha were vaguely humanoid; it was hard to pinpoint
since they were in a continually transforming state. They shifted
shape with each rise and fall of their breath – the only constant
was the blood-red eyes – and the feeling of terror that they
instilled as they passed.
"What the hell are they?" I hissed to Valdis when we were alone
again, making our way out into the streets of the City of
Darkness.
"The Pishacha?" Valdis shrugged, unfazed by the creatures, intent
on leading me towards the palace that dominated the landscape –
home. "They are flesh-eaters, shapeshifters, and possession experts.
Useful against mortals as they can form themselves into convincing
humans or simply possess them. They prefer to eat them though, and
are short on patience and self-control, so more short-term soldiers
really."
A shudder ran through me, picturing the damage they could do if
they were unleashed in the mortal world. Valdis, who was still
holding me up, felt it and held me tighter. "You're protected here,
remember?" She said reassuringly. "There is nothing in Hadrian's
realm that would dare defy their King."
Hadrian's realm. A world of literal eternal darkness – full of
monsters and nightmares. An inconsistent patchwork of history, the
buildings, attire, and speech patterns were a whirlwind of cultures
and time. Structures ranging from stone temples, modern skyscrapers,
mud-brick houses, and marketplaces open to the sky filled the space
around the palace. Clusters of inhabited space stretching out as far
as you could see – that is, if you could see through the distance.
Outside, the city's only consistent light came from the inhabitants
themselves – their energy surrounding them like an aura and smaller
light sources such as candles, fire pits, or the occasional lamp.
Inside, you could find anything from ancient technology to modern,
almost futuristic gizmos and gadgets – their light shining brightly
but never reaching the streets. It was jarringly quiet, too,
compared to the mortal realm—the entire city surrounded by swirling
darkness and sound-eating silence.
We reached the palace, Valdis leading me towards the kitchens while
she chatted companionably. I didn't hear a word, though, my thoughts
replaying snapshots of the past month in glorious high definition:
The discovery of the magic world – monsters, gods, and ancient
conflicts that all seemed to revolve around the pursuit of power and
dominance – the power they craved inside of me.
The lies my friends had told – the complex web of mistruths and
events that kept me in the dark about my part to play. A role that
even they didn't know the full extent of. The awakening of my magic,
the struggles, and the high as I learned to control it, to use it to
save myself and those I cared about. I'd had no handbook explaining
the intricacies of the magical world, no guidelines or rules. So I'd
had to learn as I went.
The mistakes I made caused more Moroi and Dhampir's deaths than I
knew – even now, the exact numbers eluded me. The Fae deceiver that
made me think I loved him and used me to wreak havoc on the vampires
for his queen. The torture that same Fae, and his brother, had
inflicted on me in their attempts to break my will. I was supposed
to be a weapon their queen could wield against her enemies, but when
that didn't work, she planned to kill me and take the magic for
herself.
The revelation that gods and goddesses existed but also used
mortals as pawns in a cosmic game. That I was made to play a part in
the final battle between Ares and Enyo, a vessel containing the last
Goddess Incarnate's magic.
The battle the Moroi, Dhampir, and Lycanthropes fought against the
Strigoi – the battle that took a friend's life. Colte had died
protecting me, and every day I missed his easy smile, sense of
humor, and companionship. The fight between the pretender Fae Queen
and me – a conflict I should have killed her in. But I'd let her go,
too drunk on the power I had taken from her. The magic that
enveloped me, swirling through my body, demanding more.
"Sapphira?"
"Lost in the past." I smiled sadly, running my hand over the cold
stone surface of the island.
"No use in dwelling there," she said, sliding a chopping board and
knife towards me. "Unless one of your powers is time travel?"
I let out a little laugh, shaking my head. "No, but wouldn't that
be something?"
"It would. But, since it isn't, how about you chop those carrots
while I start the onions?" Valdis' deft fingers were already in
motion, making quick work of the vegetables on her own board. "If
you want chicken again, I think there is still some in the fridge.
No beef left, though. We finished that off yesterday."
Valdis made her own leather armor – from the flesh of Fae soldiers
she had killed in battle.
My own armor had been a gift from her, but I'd asked her not to
tell me where it had come from. I didn't need to know that the
leather protecting my body had once been the skin of a living,
breathing person. Possibly someone that I had met or fought
against.
I'd watched Valdis working once, and it had been both fascinating
and disturbing to see. She took pride in her work, as most people
that were good at their job did, although most people weren't using
the corpses of creatures to create beings capable of shredding
mortals and monsters to bits. Her workshop, or lab – whatever you
wanted to call it – was full of body parts, tools, and funky smells.
I'd watched her take the body of a recently deceased Fae female,
changing organs and skin with a wolf. The process was bloody,
gruesome, and time-consuming.
Raw chunks of meat that had once been part of the wolf had melded
together with the Fae to create something new, something vicious – a
human-sized wolf that walked on two legs and hands filled with
six-inch claws. I'd felt her magic pulsing a semblance of life into
the very fiber of the creature, felt the moment her manipulation and
will take control, and blood started pumping again. The creature's
chest began its rise and fall, the eyes opened, a bloodcurdling
snarl building low in its throat, razor-sharp teeth bared. Valdis
had put it in a cell with another of her creatures and watched them
with morbid fascination and curiosity. Then, the Fae-wolf had torn
its cellmate to shreds, rendering it nothing more than chunks of
flesh, bone, and blood.
I had stuck to a purely vegetarian diet for days after that.
Thinking about it now, as Valdis prepared a chicken for the pot, had
my stomach turning again. I didn't want to offend her by throwing up
at the sight of her food for a second time. And this train of
thought would do just that.
"Are you finding anything interesting in Theresa's journal?" I
asked, trying to distract myself.
"I thought that we had been close, but it seems she kept a lot of
herself private." Valdis shrugged, eyes still on her work, voice
soft. "I didn't know that she struggled within herself… she always
seemed so confident and happy."
Theresa was the Goddess Incarnate – the last reincarnation of her
anyway. She'd lived in the City of Darkness with Hadrian and Valdis,
had loved the King and Necromancer. But she had been caught up in
Ares and Enyo's game and had paid the price with her life. It was
her magic that ran through my veins, her suite that I now called my
own.
"That must be hard for you," I replied, continuing to chop the
carrots. "I'm sorry, Valdis."
"What are you sorry for?" She asked, throwing the chicken pieces
into the pot with more force than was necessary. "It wasn't you that
pretended everything was fine for decades. It wasn't you that left
us."
"No, but I know how it feels to be the one left behind, the one
that believed the lies," I said softly, sliding the chopping board
across to her. "I'm sorry that you have to feel what that is
like."
Valdis sighed, both hands on the counter, head bowed. "I don't
understand it. I really don't. I know that I'm behaving like a
child, but it fucking hurts, Sapphira. I thought that we had this
amazing life together. Theresa helped me through my shitty past; she
let me unload all of my baggage on her and never said a word about
how much she struggled with her magic or her place here. Reading
that journal shows me just how bad her mental health was." She
turned watery eyes my way, regret and despair plain to see all over
her face. "She could have said something, if not to me, then to
Hadrian. We should have seen her suffering – why didn't we?"
"That's just it, though, isn't it?" I asked, moving around the
kitchen to stand beside her, not touching – but close enough if she
needed me to. "A lot of the time, the ones that are suffering the
most are the ones that never show it. They put on a smile like they
would armor; they're the ones that seem the strongest, the bravest –
the most sturdy in this crazy world. But in reality, they're the
most broken."
"You're not helping." Valdis frowned at me.
"Sorry." I offered a sad smile, a slight shrug. "Maybe Theresa
wanted you to have happy memories of her. On the other hand, she
probably wanted to keep you from worrying and getting
distracted."
Valdis made a shrug of her own, returning her attention to the
stew. "It's done. There isn't anything I can do about it now; we
need to focus on the future. Hadrian should be back today." She
added. "Hopefully, his meeting with the Fae heirs went well, and
they have information on where the hell Kamilla went."
We fell into silence, Valdis continuing to showcase her cooking
prowess as I sat on the counter with my legs tucked underneath me
and watched. I couldn't stop the tinge of regret that swirled
through me or the worry that danced with it. I should have tried
harder to kill the pretender queen when I had the chance. I knew
that. But the magic was like a drug – unbelievably addictive and
gave off a high like nothing else. I'd been too drunk on the power I
had taken from her to anything but crave more.
And now the Fae bitch was still out there somewhere, alive and
well. We had heard rumors that she was regrouping and amassing her
armies – what was left of them.
The reports were sketchy, details varying from messenger to
messenger. No one knew where she planned to make her next stand – or
where she was holed up, but a common thread was that Fae were
vanishing, Seers were being hunted, and Kamilla's allies were
closing the entrances to their realms.
Something big was coming, and the tension throughout the
supernatural world was building. With Ares pulling her strings, I
was sure Kamilla would be a thorn in my side for a long time to
come. A deadly and vengeful thorn.
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