45 || Final Ashes
The necromancer had lost the will to fight. No amount of shoving or striking would loosen the grip of the guards hauling her down the stairs to the dungeons, each step meeting her ribs with a savage force that would leave a deep, bruised purple for weeks.
There was no hope of fixing what damage had already been done. No point in fighting back as the rattle of metal reverberated across the dark stone as she was locked in the deepest holding cell, left to her own company.
She couldn't find the sorrow within her to cry, the welling tears stuck behind her eyes. Her sobs were lodged in her throat, leaving only shuddering breaths to be set free.
After long last, King Mortas was dead. Morana had dreamed of that moment since she was a small girl — the perfect revenge for everything he had done. It was all she had ever wanted, so why did it still feel like there was a hollow fragment in her heart?
You're cursed. Her father's voice screamed in her mind. The Gods have cursed you.
"Stop," the assassin whispered as she clutched her head, burying her face between her knees. Her braid unravelled from its complex twists, shielding her in waves of disturbed mauve.
Morana had also killed the man who had raised her — the only person who hadn't seen her as the monster she was. Silas. She had been nothing but a pawn to him when she thought he was different. Who could love someone who brought death with her wherever she went?
The unruly violet of her necklace was the only light she could see as it fought against its chain, almost cutting off her airway. It wanted to escape the tormenting memories roiling in her head as much as she did.
She's dead because of you.
Shadows swirled in a rippling mist around her, gathering in segments until they merged together.
They grew tall and towering, moulding into something humanoid.
At first, it took her mother's face, capturing the vivid courage and determination she once had, before the creature changed into something more.
As more and more darkness pressed into it, the archaic nature of its movements made goose flesh race across Morana's arms. It became less shadow and more real.
"You poor thing," it teased. What should have been one voice echoed into hundreds all around her. "They've locked up this island's most powerful asset."
Morana closed her eyes as it approached her, tipping her head back to let the shadows consume her.
A small thread of hope inside her wished it would claim her like it had done to the rest of Wyrith — it was only fitting for a cursed person to be taken by a curse — but she knew that wasn't how it worked.
The darkness reached her arm and the assassin jumped away from the contact. The warm, real touch.
"You and your sister have my deepest gratitude. Thanks to you, I have enough energy to take form once more," the shadow laughed with an eldritch smile. A crown had formed, nestled into her onyx hair, and two golden eyes peered down at her with beguiling interest.
"Who are you?"
"My name is Queen Severa, one of the two rulers of Wyrith. At least, before my kind was eradicated." As she crouched down, Morana's necklace gravitated toward the queen. "I see you've been keeping my Dyonite safe for me. I'll make the most out of you when I'm ready."
Clutching the gemstone, Morana swallowed thickly. Her necklace had belonged to one of the past necromancer queens — her mother had told them about it when she was still alive. Queen Severa had to be one of them and now she was back.
The air tasted like furious blood and vengeful greed, filling senses and making it difficult to breathe.
"That's okay, I have no need for it just yet.
I need more souls to be able to resurrect myself.
You need to protect it until then." She brought a clawed finger to her lips in thought.
"Perhaps this castle would be enough to satisfy the demand this magic brings.
I can feel a lot of people here tonight. "
"Morana?" Damian's voice resounded throughout the dungeon. Footsteps thudded towards them, growing closer and closer. Her Fireborn had come to save her.
"Who's this?" A wicked grin twisted her skin too wide, stretching eerily into her cheeks. "I shall claim this as my next soul."
"No!" A beg formed on her lips and she hauled herself to her feet. "You can't take him." Her plea only made the shadow queen more interested in her prey.
Damian reached her cell, almost racing past. "Bone girl." He shook the steel bars caging her, watching the hinges as they rattled for any signs of weakness. "I heard what happened. Are you hurt?"
"You need to leave, now." Tears welled in her eyes. Morana couldn't lose him, not her fire boy. She had already lost so much that she couldn't let anything else be taken. All she wanted was one slice of happiness, nothing more.
"What? Why?" He glanced down the hall to see if any guards had followed him. "Not without you." It didn't look like the Fireborn could see the shadows again, and she couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing.
"Fire boy, please." She held his hands on top of the bars they held. "You need to get out of the castle, now."
"There's no use trying to save him," Queen Severa interjected. "Now or later, he will be claimed by my curse."
"Please, trust me and leave." Her necklace didn't know whose emotions to obey. It was drawn to its original owner, yet it still attempted to flee because of the necromancer's panic.
"What happened?" Damian only came closer, his ember-filled eyes tracing her body for hints of injury.
"The curse will kill you. You need to leave," Morana begged again. Only, it was too late.
Queen Severa stepped through the bars, her shadows dissipating and forging again as she passed through, bending to her command. She placed a hand on the Fireborn's shoulder and he recoiled, backing himself up into the bars of her cell.
"What the fuck?" He could see her now, every wisp of shadow.
"Don't you dare take him! Do you hear me?" Morana growled, tugging at the metal that wouldn't budge. "Take someone else! Anyone else!"
The shadow queen tilted Damian's chin up and his arms slackened by his sides.
He was going to die to the Necromancer's Curse and there was nothing she could do to stop it.
She had no bone shards, all of them scattered across the former king's office in her outrage.
She had no weapons, all of them disarmed from her on the journey to the dungeons.
Even the tome strapped to her belt had been confiscated.
Trapped in her cell, there was nothing she could do.
"Stop!" Morana's yell shook the foundations of the castle, the underground stone trembling at the sound. Her necklace snapped free from its bindings, soaring through her beloved Fireborn and to the necromancer queen.
The shadows fled, escaping to the darkest parts of the dungeon to retreat.
"No." Her blood turned to ice as Damian fell to his knees. "No, no, no, no, no." She caught him through the bars, helping him settle on the ground.
Her necklace had gone through his throat. In order to save him from the Necromancer's Curse, she had taken his life herself.
"No, I didn't mean to." Morana's chest tightened, guilt squeezing her every breath. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Bone girl." The prince turned his head to her as thick crimson welled in his mouth, spilling out of the wound and past his lips. "It's okay."
The assassin could only shake her head. It wasn't okay. She had killed him — the one person who had stuck by her side no matter what.
"It was... an accident."
Her fists clenched onto him tightly. She couldn't let him go, couldn't let him slip between her fingers and into the life beyond. "I'll bring you back," she promised. "I'll find a way to bring you back."
Damian's legs flattened as they crumbled into ashes, leaving his clothes behind. "Vahan will always be a safe place for you." He managed a smile, his arm reaching up to brush hers before that too faded into dust.
"Don't leave me, please. Fire boy."
His mouth opened again, as if to say something more, but nothing came out.
Only the final ashes of Prince Damian fell to the ground as her pleas and promises fell on empty ears.
The necromancer couldn't move, her hands clutching the remains of the man she loved. He was buried underneath her nails, a permanent reminder that she was cursed to take anyone who cared for her out of the world.
He was dead. Morana had killed him, just like she had killed everyone else she loved with her godsdamned necklace.
Her fire boy was gone.