29. Wyns Battle
29
WYN'S BATTLE
WYNSTELLE
“ T ell me what you’ve done to them,” I demand of Mage Idril, my voice low and threatening.
Neven presses the point of the knife deeper into Abela’s throat, making the traitor gasp. “Tell us.”
Abela quickly recovers, regaining her nerve when Neven doesn’t slide the blade fully into her flesh.“I don’t know what she’s doing,” she sneers. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you.”
“It doesn’t matter what I’ve done.” Idril’s laughter borders on a cackle. “You will be dead soon enough. And so will they.”
“Why not kill them right off?” I crinkle my brow in confusion.
Neven sucks in a breath, realizing what Idril’s plans are. “She means to steal their essence, their power, their magic.”
Idril shoots a glare at Neven, then relaxes, now that her secret is out. “Absorbing other’s magic has served me well for centuries.”
Neven shakes her head in disgust. “And you say the hybrids will be the monsters.”
Righteous anger rises inside me. How dare this mage accuse others of being monsters—potentially my future children?
This mage manipulated my entire life. She bound me to Twyla, effectively replacing me with a changeling. Because of Idril, King Magnus was forced to hide me in a foundry on the outskirts of his kingdom under Merlara’s protective bubble. Then the mage damaged my connection with my mates when she shattered my bond with Twyla. This was torture for all of us to endure. Now Idril has put Twyla and all three of my loves in a nightmare state so that she can consume their lives and their magic—their souls.
A frightening realization comes to me. We will all die unless I can stop the Unseelie Mage.
But I feel so small, so helpless in comparison. Idril isn’t entirely wrong that I am nothing compared to her. Even my magic is fragile—dependent on my mates.
What do I have but my strange mirror magic?
How could I use it to face off with the most powerful mage in centuries?
Actually… What can I do with it?
When I study the mage again, I wonder if she fears me on some level. Somehow, I am a threat to her, that is certain. She has confessed as much. She believes I have something about me that will help create a new line of people.
Why hasn’t she knocked me out as she has done to the others? Maybe I am unusual. Maybe I have something to fight with her. I broke out of my nightmare spell. Could I stop her now? Or help Neven gain the upper hand?
I make note of all the magic I’ve used or experienced. Mirror. Healing. Empathic ability. Heightened perceptions. Bonding magic. Influencer magic.
How can any of those gifts help me now?
I know Eldrin couldn’t influence the mage, which means I can’t either.
I mentally scramble to come up with something. Anything . I must think and fast. The thought of my mates dying makes me want to drop to my knees in anguish.
The love for my mates swells inside my heart. Then the two conflicting emotions of anger and love swirl together.
What did they say after my magical demonstration in the village when I healed Oakes at an unprecedented speed?
I am empowered by love.
How can I use it now to beat Idril?
“You will lose,” Idril says, guessing my intentions.
Neven scoffs, “That hasn’t been written in the stars. Not yet.”
“I’m making sure of that now!” Idril snaps.
“Wynstelle,” Neven calls. “There’s a reason she hasn’t killed you yet. I believe she is using her magical connection with you to drain your mates and Twyla,” she says in a rush.
“Shut your mouth.” Idril’s arm shoots out, fingers splayed, and Neven flies through the air and crashes to the floor, taking Abela with her.
Both mages are knocked unconscious. I’m on my own now.
Am I the portal for her to drain my bonded?
My perception dives inward, and I feel a strange swirling of power. Is this energy my mates’ life force and magic flowing through me, like a funnel, and into Idril?
Recently, when I felt an increase in energy within me, I assumed it was my own power growing since it felt so familiar. Now I deduce it’s familiar because it’s my mates’ energy.
Can I stop the flow?
For a brief moment, I consider ending my life to stop her from tapping them dry. If she doesn’t have me as a channel to siphon their power, maybe I can save them.
But my mates could be killed outright after I sacrifice myself.
Then I have an idea.
I pay attention to the magic and notice the way it moves. It reminds me of flowing water. And if it acts like water, that means it can flow in many directions, even backward… toward its original source.
But first, I have to stop the flow. Then I hope I can send it back.
Visualizing my mark on my back, I can almost see the river of power. My soul has opened up like a sieve. I understand now why Idril broke our mate bonds. The mage has actually fractured my spirit. Idril needed me broken open, so the magic could leak through me like a cracked bowl. That’s why I have felt so fragile lately.
My soul is actually shattered.
But I can’t let the mage win.
I use the advice Oakes gave me about magic—use my imagination. I visualize squeezing the fissure closed until nothing can pass through the fractures in my soul.
Idril must sense I’m constricting the flow. She grabs Rhys tighter in her magical rope. It slides around his throat, choking off his air. “Submit, or I’ll kill your friend,” she threatens.
I focus on my connection with her.
Out of the corner of his eye, I see Rhys looking at the mage and then at me. The commander’s eyes widen, catching on that I’m doing something to stop her. “Do what you must!” he says, offering his life in exchange for a possible win.
“Fine, Idril. Let him go, and I’ll stop resisting,” I offer, refusing to look at Rhys’ disappointed stare. “But not until then.”
Idril hisses and shoves Rhys away. The ropes vanish in the air.
Even though he falls onto his face, he quickly jumps up and scurries out of the room. I hear him cursing. He didn’t want me to give up.
“Vermin,” Idril mutters, then she sets her sights on me. “Now, stop resisting.”
In the corner of my vision, I see Neven and Abela waking up and wrestling on the floor, locked in a physical and magical battle. Unfortunately, Neven won’t be able to help me in this fight.
I think about my mates. Once again, my love for them gives me a surge of power.
The changeling mark itches. Burning like a cauldron of melted metal. But I’m used to working with dangerous and volatile elements and some part of my mind recognizes that Idril is just another element of nature needing to be manipulated and molded—just like the metal I’ve fashioned all my life.
I’m aware of how close the mark is to my heart. I don’t believe that is an accident.
Can the mark and my love be the source of this power and the key to stopping the flow? To reversing it?
Another epiphany comes to me… my mirror magic can mimic any magical practitioner I’m connected to.
And aren’t I tied to Idril as well?
She created the magic I used to bond with my mates and Twyla. It’s the very thing she is using against us now.
If I can use my mirror magic on Idril, I can be as powerful as the mage.
“Alright. No more resisting ,” I say in a defeated tone.
Using Oakes’ empathic power, I sense when Idril allows her defenses to fall in anticipation of receiving the flow of magic and their combined life force.
Instead, I use that moment to strike without hesitation, just as Jaden would ask of me, with conviction and passion. I use Eldrin’s power of influence and summon the magic out of Idril, demanding it return to its owners.
But there’s resistance.
I tug again, compelling the power forward, reminding the energy that it belongs to my mates. Once again, I remember what Twyla said about my power being rooted in love and the changeling’s words.
Love is limitless .
Suddenly, the magic crashes into my body. I shake with its power as it fills me with a vibration so intense that every muscle tenses.
My back arches and my limbs tremble. I have heard this happens when someone is struck by lightning. I can’t control my body and other than the shaking, I can’t move. I’m held, locking gazes with the mage who would destroy me and mine.
Idril sways, crying out in anguish.
Taking in so much magic at once overwhelms my body and mind.
The world spins, and I’m about to tumble into an abyss. I can barely recall what I’m supposed to do with all this magic now.
In a flash of images, I see my three mates, and I remember I must send the energy back to its source—to them.
From my heart, a vibrant power I can see streams out of me. One cord connects to Eldrin, then two others link with Jaden and Oakes. Then another thread travels out of the room in search of Twyla.
A ghostly figure appears behind Idril.
I must have the magic in me at this very moment to see through Merlara’s concealment magic.
My former keeper plunges a gleaming sword right through Idril’s torso.
I release a strangled cry through my clenched teeth, still shaking with the power flowing through me. “No!” Not that I want Idril to live, but I haven’t reclaimed all of my mate’s essence yet. What if they won’t survive without all of it returned?
Idril drops to her knees, grasping the blade sticking out the front of her chest. “Fools. All of you.”
In my desperation, I command the rest of the power to leave Idril.
And it obeys.
I quake, aggressively convulsing as the magic consumes me from the inside in a searing heat. I’m sure I will explode from all the energy contained inside me now.
Pressure. Pain. I barely have conscious thoughts, except for the knowledge that I’m going to die.
I panic… I have yet to save my mates.
With my last moment of awareness, I attempt to force the power back toward my loves.
My world goes black, believing that I have failed them.