Chapter 2
Durin
I used to spend my days in my family’s small hut reading. Or racing and wrestling with Farris. Or even watching my mother tend the gardens. I always enjoyed the company of the other fae in my small village. I was happy to share meals with them or help those who needed it. Life was peaceful and never as dull as it could have been.
But four years ago, when that shifter’s life was taken away, my quiet life left, too.
I inherited my heat power from my father, but his is just a flicker compared to what I’ve built mine into. I spent countless hours each day for years, relentlessly honing my magic and training my body until I collapsed. I sought out every charm, herb, and potion that might enhance my power. A trail of ashes followed me everywhere as my magic grew hotter and I became more adept at using it.
By chance, I even managed to find an elf willing to help me. Elves typically stay hidden. They hate the queen just as much as the rest of us. The nobles’ brutality against the elves is what drove them into hiding in the first place.
They are a lot like the fae, but they only have spell magic. It’s more powerful and more intricate than fae who possess the same. There are very few elves, though, compared to any of the high fae. There likely aren’t enough of them to actually claim victory over the queen. Plus, they are a peaceful species. They don’t fight unless they absolutely have to. They prefer to hide beneath their magic and live in peace.
I’m not sure how I was able to find one. Maybe he was the one who found me. I’d hoped he could increase my power, but he said that’s a magic no one possesses. Still, he did cast a spell to free my magic from any hindrance, unlocking its full potential. He added a spell to strengthen my resolve despite any failures or distractions along the way.
As a precaution, he cast one last spell, binding me from using my power against his kind. It was unnecessary, but I respected his reasoning. It was a small demand in exchange for what he’d given me.
With his help and my self-torture, I’ve transformed myself into a warrior. The time has finally come to use what I’ve built for its purpose.
“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” Farris asks as we scour the woods for Mitah.
My ultimate goal is to take down the queen. But first, I need to weaken her. Mitah is the perfect place to start.
He made the horror stories real. He put blood on my hands, as I was too weak to save the shifter he murdered. I’ve been saving the majority of my bloodlust for his smirking face.
The lively sound of chirping, fluttering critters tells me no nobles are nearby. We will need to move closer to the castle.
I charge through the trees, determined to find him. Even if he’s past the forest and in full view of the queen herself.
“I’ve been ready for ages,” I grumble, itching to take down the unworthy bastard.
I’m aware that Farris is referring to my abilities, but I wouldn’t be pushing forward if I wasn’t fully prepared.
“Are you nervous, though?” he presses, understanding the gravity of my task.
I breathe evenly, silently thanking the elf for my lack of nerves. “No. I’ve worked my ass off for this. My magic is deadlier than I had ever imagined it could be. Mitah may be powerful and dangerous, but so am I. And he won’t see me coming.”
I’ve hidden the extent of my power from everyone but Farris. I’d disappear for days, training in secluded areas or recuperating in my hut from the strain I’d put on myself. I distanced myself from my family and my village, focusing solely on my magic. I knew I couldn’t let anything hold me back or get in my way.
Instead of joining in on festivities, I’d hunt for the bulky, stone golems that nobles send out to locate shifter camps or elven hideaways. I practiced my magic on them, reducing their muddy or rocky forms to ashes while other fae celebrated and indulged.
I became known as a loner, which worked in my favor. I wasn’t distracted or slowed down by vain discussions or piddly tasks. The only difficult part was ignoring my parents when they’d ask what was causing my behavior. I knew it was better for them to begin mourning their lost son while I was still alive than for me to be taken away violently if things go wrong.
I had to be able to walk out of my village today without looking back.
Farris has supported me, no matter how foolish my plan against the nobility seems. His illusion magic will be useful as I move forward, but his emotional support is what I need most. I don’t feel good about taking lives, but there’s justice that needs to be served. I’ve convinced myself that I’m the one meant to do it since no one else has stepped up to make things right.
“So, what should we be?” he asks, rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
“Let’s try something different,” I suggest. “How about a plant? We’ll wait along the main path, hidden until Mitah passes by. He’ll never see me coming.”
“Brilliant!” Farris says, slapping me on the back. “Let’s go.”
We move silently through the forest until we reach the path, where I immediately realize I overlooked one major detail.
“Shit,” I mutter, pointing at the glowing flowers lining both sides of the worn path. “I forgot about the calantars.”
Calantars are short plants with blue flowers that light up when fae get close to them. They line the entire path in both directions, guiding the fae who wander the woods at night.
“We can’t be close to them, or he’ll know someone’s hiding here,” I say, holding back my frustration.
Farris nods grimly and chews the inside of his cheek. He looks around until he spots another plant that might work.
“Okay, there’s a line of fillana stalks far enough back to keep from triggering the glow. But it will be harder to reach Mitah before he notices you.”
The added distance poses a challenge, but I’m confident I can manage it. I’ll just have to move faster.
We crouch low among the vibrant yellow leaves, and Farris waves his hands to camouflage us. Time drags on as we wait. I grow stiff from not moving and sick of being here. But Mitah’s smirk keeps me rooted in place.
The calantar flowers flicker to life as other fae pass by, setting my heart pounding in anticipation each time, only to deflate with disappointment. I find myself wondering how much longer Farris will stay. He could be off charming Larrelli into his bed right now. But he remains by my side, even when the chirping stops and the lesser fae scatter from whatever approaching evil is now tainting the air.
It’s either Mitah or another fae just as wicked as him. I stare down the path and watch as the calantars grow brighter.
When the fae responsible for triggering them steps into view, it’s him. Mitah. The one I’ve been waiting for.
Before I met the elf, I might have been tempted to abandon my mission and flee. Mitah is terrifying with his cold, white hair and steely gaze. Yet, I feel nothing but the burning need for vengeance. To look down at him as he lies dead at my feet.
I’ve rehearsed my attack countless times while we’ve been waiting, but it almost seems absurd now that the moment is here. He’s going to notice a sudden rush of bright yellow coming at him from this distance. I signal to Farris, holding two fingers together, silently asking him to transform me into something small.
He knows me well enough to catch on. In a blink, I’m a tiny pebble bug. Mitah could crush me with just a thought. But maybe he’ll use less force if he thinks he’s squashing an insect.
“Stop the illusion once I’ve attacked,” I whisper. “I want him to think he stands a chance.”
As soon as the nearest calantars begin to glow, I know there’s no turning back.
I lunge toward Mitah, and my footsteps stop him in his tracks. Illusions only change what one sees. The other senses cannot be fooled. His eyes flick to the flattened trail my boots are leaving behind.
I’ve caught him off guard, but he’s a no common fae. That split second of surprise is the only advantage I’ll get.
He whirls around and tries to use his power against me. But he can’t manipulate what he can’t see. Farris lifts the illusion right as I grab his throat. I grin at Mitah as I’m revealed to him. I tighten my grip, locking him in place.
He forgets about his magic and instinctively reaches for my hands in a desperate attempt to break free.
The blue glow of my magic lights up his panicked face. He doesn’t look so intimidating at the mercy of my power. He struggles as I take hold of his wrist with my other glowing hand. I channel my heat beneath his skin, attempting to sear him from the inside.
But he quickly regains his senses. Pain shoots through both of my hands and down each finger, forcing me to release him. I have no choice. If my hands become useless, so will my magic.
His thin lips curl into a smile as he massages his throat. “This is new,” he says, circling me slowly like a predator.
He runs his tongue along his teeth and grins as his magic contorts my fingers. I double over in agony, vainly trying to protect myself.
“Oh yes...” he taunts. “The queen will be pleased. If I allow you to live, that is.”
I’m prepared to die, but not before he does. Pushing past the pain, I seize his throat with both stiff hands. His next words die on his tongue as I cut off the breath needed to release them.
Instead of being afraid, he’s offended. His pride only fuels my anger, dulling the pain as the bones in my fingers begin to snap and shatter.
I manage to keep my grip well enough to channel all my power into his neck. My magic boils every drop of his blood as it rushes through his veins.
His haughty expression crumbles, replaced by a twisted mouth, full of gargled screams. If I survive this, I hope they replace the Beta’s cries that have haunted me for so many years.
But he’s unyielding. I can feel his power fumble through my body, attempting to crush vital parts inside me. His magic is frantic as his body roasts like meat over a fire. He misses my organs, but I know he won’t miss forever. I must end this now.
I gather all my remaining strength and drive it into his throat. His mental hold on me shatters instantly. I take advantage and push even harder.
The vessels in his eyes burst, and I watch a red mist swirl into the air as his boiling blood becomes vapor.
His veins rip open from the pressure, causing dark bruises to bloom across his body. Hot, foaming blood bubbles out of his mouth, scalding his skin as it runs down his chin.
His throat is destroyed, rendering him speechless. The only expression he can offer is the terror in his eyes.
“You’re pathetic,” I say, snarling with disdain.
There’s no need to mention the shifter. He won’t remember one insignificant life from years ago. He knows all the wretched things he’s delighted in. There’s no need to bring those up, either. I want him to die feeling weak. The way I felt the first time we met.
I release him and watch his body crumple at my feet. He can’t move, only twitching as his lifeblood becomes one with the soil.
Now that his throat is unrestricted by my hands, the blocked blood rushes back. It’s too much. His neck splits open, and the blood pours out like a dam breaking. The ground hisses as his blood seeps into the dirt beneath him.
I crouch down and watch the life drain from Mitah’s eyes. “The queen thanks you for your years of service,” I tell him with a smirk. “I’m sure you’ll be tough to replace.”
I feel the elf’s spell of determination falls away, even though I’m far from finished with my mission. But I find that my own resolve remains. There’s more to be done. First of which is to cover up what’s left of Mitah.
I’ll have to move his body and burn or bury it. This can’t be connected back to me to me if no one ever finds it. I reach for his arms, but the pain from my broken hands hits hard now that the adrenaline has worn off. I growl as I inspect the damage he managed to inflict on me.
Moving him is impossible. I can’t even lift him onto my shoulders. I’ll require a healer to mend my hands before I can do anything with them. The body can’t stay here while I tend to myself. Farris will have to help me.
I stand and turn back to the fillana bushes, spotting him still hidden among them. “Mind giving me a hand with this?” I ask the plant, holding up my mangled hands and nudging Mitah’s body with my foot.
He remains illusioned and says nothing. I quickly understand why he’s not laughing when I see two fae further down the path, gaping at me and the noble’s lifeless body at my feet.
I freeze, knowing better than to hastily react. It’s too late for Farris to illusion me.
The two fae are dressed like Mitah in fine, white tunics with the symbol of the queen embroidered in gray on their chests–a silhouette of the bitch herself, surrounded by twisted, thorny vines I’ve never seen anywhere in the realm.
The crest tells me these fae are nobles, which means they’re powerful. Full of magic meant for suffering and death.
It also tells me that they’re loyal to the queen.
I’m fucked, but at least Mitah is, too. They can do with me as they wish. I spent four years abusing myself to purge the realm of that monster’s face. Nothing they do can bring him back.
The blood on my hands is now blood that belonged to him. There’s nothing they can do to strip me of that satisfaction, either.