Chapter 50
In Which Glenda Has Been Cruelly Betrayed and Cast Aside, despite All Her Hard Work and All Her Commitment, All because of One Fucking Comment Which She Probably Shouldn’t Have Made, but Then Again Domitia Shouldn’t Be So Damn Sensitive, and Definitely Should Not Have Abused Her Power in What Was Essentially an Assault, and In Which Perhaps Glenda Should Report to the Church that the Half-Dragon Isn’t as Under Control as They All Believe.
Glenda was venting her rage at a tree, kicking and kicking until bark rained in splinters to expose soft pale wood, when the clouds above formed a man’s face.
And not just any man. Her enemy, the hideous sorcerer, a man who—from the sharpness of his form—looked to be lashed together from knives.
The glower of his eye, the oily curtain of his hair, all were picked out in the curling whisps of a darkening thunderhead.
Craning her neck, Glenda saw that it was far from localized; in the distance, another face formed, and another. She could see no end to them.
All the faces moved at once. The sorcerer’s stone eye flashed with lightning, rain falling like spittle, and he spoke in the rumble of a storm: “You’ve all heard of me.
I am Merulo the sorcerer, and on this day your God will die at my hand.
I will wipe this planet free of its corruption, and in doing so, purge your magic and open up the cosmos!
If you are frightened, good, be frightened.
Flee all magically supported structures, as they will crumble.
Flee the Church, as they are liars. If this warning goes unheeded, then the cause of your death will be stupidity. No more needs to be said.”
With that, the clouds dissipated into white puffs that hung in a tranquil sky. After some hesitation, the birdsong resumed.
“Evil fucking bastard,” Glenda breathed, the tree forgotten for now. “He can’t succeed. Can he?”
In the stories her parents read to her as a child, the villain always lost, right at the end when things looked their worst. And she couldn’t forget the prophecy.
They’d fulfilled the conditions! Cameron had died bloodily, and in doing so, secured their victory.
Unless—and what an unspeakable unless—the sorcerer had undone their work with his reversal of time? But then, who could stop him?
“Domitia.” Glenda spoke to the empty forest with the reverence of a prayer.
“We haven’t always . . . gotten along. And I’m sorry for making that comment, really.
But please, please . . .” She regretted the Passionweed now, hating the tears that rolled down her cheeks.
“Don’t let him win. End that evil fucking prick.
We’re all rooting for you, even if the rest of the world doesn’t know it.
They’re praying for someone to save us, and it’s you!
Please, Domitia . . .” Glenda collapsed against the tree trunk, seeking comfort and support from the same vegetation she’d just been mulching.
“Please save the world. And,” she added as an afterthought, “please kill Cameron.”