Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MORGANA
“ M ama!”
The child’s voice was before darkness imploded around me. Every open flame extinguished before my very eyes, and the shadows that sat in the corners expanded across the room as if to blanket me. I almost screamed— almost.
But I recalled the way Lord DeBurne grabbed me. I remembered what sort of threats he’d made to me, and while I’d never condemn a child for her father’s actions, I would run like hell to get away. I may not know much, but I know that cruelty is taught.
And until these people proved otherwise, they were just as cruel as the Late Francis DeBurne
At first, the shadows spiraled around me like a cocoon, but when I felt my weight lift off the ground ever so slightly, I understood how advantageous it was to exist within the darkness. Why I hadn’t stayed there, I didn’t know, but I’d worry about the logistics of such magic after I escaped this hell house.
I used this heightened speed and lightness to soar past the young girl, the side of her arm slamming into the door from the force of my escape. As I descended the steps, I would have frozen in place if it wasn’t for Aster’s aid. Two large men, inked with symbols across their arms and beards so long they suspended past their collarbones, awaited me. The force of my hesitation was no obstacle as the shadows laced around my arms and legs, lifting me off the steps and into the air. I screamed, arms and legs thrashing as my body fought the unnatural flight.
I stumbled on the landing and watched as Aster’s magic took the form of vines, slithering across the floor toward the closed front door. Bit by bit, it gnawed at the wooden paneling, chips flying into the air.
Duck, little dove ? —
Without hesitation, I dodged an incoming fist to the side of my head. I faced the two men I’d just soared over and cursed beneath my breath. They were unreasonably tall—seriously, the scholars needed to study such height—and the raven ink that colored their arms screamed danger. I didn’t understand the stories those symbols told, but I acknowledged the danger nonetheless.
It was in their eyes.
The two lunged at me at the same time. I darted to the side, ducking out of the way as the second man swung for my head once more. Dropping the ledger, I used my hands to provide leverage before kicking him in the knee. My heart was pounding in my ears as I scanned the room for anything that could be of use during the split second I had to run. The parlor was cluttered with ornate furniture and fragile knickknacks, but nothing that seemed remotely helpful in a fight against these brutes.
A glint of metal caught my eye. A heavy brass candlestick sat on the mantle. Above it was another portrait—this one, however, was just of Lord DeBurne. It was too far to reach without turning my back on the attackers, but the idea planted itself in my mind. I just needed to get closer.
I pivoted on my heel, narrowly avoiding another swing from the man on the right. His fist connected with the wooden bookshelf instead, splintering the wood and sending a cascade of books to the floor. I kicked one of the heavier tomes at his shin, causing him to stumble, and then grabbed the ledger before darting toward the mantle.
The second man was faster than I anticipated. He grabbed my arm, his grip like iron, and yanked me back. I twisted, bringing my knee up into his groin. He grunted but didn’t release me. Panic flared in my chest, but I forced it down. I needed to think. I needed to fight. I needed to win.
My free hand reached blindly behind me, fingers scrabbling for the mantle. They closed around something cold and smooth—porcelain. I snatched up the vase and smashed it against the man’s head. He roared in pain, his grip loosening enough for me to wrench free. In my periphery, the shadows had taken form into something larger than life—something far more terrifying than vines eating away at the door.
I stumbled back, nearly losing my footing. The first man was already recovering, fury in his eyes. There was no time to waste. I lunged for the candlestick, my fingers curling around the cool metal. Meanwhile, the terrible extent of Aster’s power took the shape of a faceless monster. It reached the ceiling, a chilling song bleeding from it. It wasn’t just one voice though—it was many. Hundreds, maybe.
With a desperate cry, I swung it with all my might. Infinite darkness shrouded the room at the very same time, and for a moment, time stilled. Every splintered piece of wood imploded into the air, piercing through my skin like a thousand tiny splinters. It all happened so fast, too fast. It was uncontrollable. It was raw. It was dangerous.
The candlestick connected with the side of the first man’s head with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the floor, out cold, just as a splintered piece of floor pierced through his back.
The second man, still reeling from the vase, charged at me with a snarl. I ducked under his outstretched arms, slipping behind him, but Aster’s monstrous form collapsed over him.
And as the mist settled, the second man vanished with it.
Time hastened, and I collapsed into myself to avoid the aftermath of such an explosion. My skin stung, from the existing cuts from prior altercations to the hundred new wounds he’d inflicted upon me. Everything ached—nay, it was tormenting.
Silence would have been too kind a word to describe the mayhem I opened my eyes to. Sprawled on the floor amidst the wreckage of the parlor were the two bodies, their veins blackening like the starry depths of Vespera. I sobbed, not in remorse or grief from such a brutal death, but in agony. I clawed for the ledger that had been tossed near the fireplace, stumbled to my feet, and aimed for the door that had been torn apart.
I turned over my shoulder and caught sight of a woman—her skin aged, but not from sun or labor. She had this wide-eyed, vengeful glare I’d never forget. I let out a shuddering gasp, twisted back toward the exit, and ran as fast as my aching bones would allow me.
I just prayed I had a way out of this gods-forsaken countryside.