Chapter Fifty-Six Quell
Fifty-Six
Quell
Jordan’s knees hit the ground and a scream rips from my throat. I glare at the Dragunhead, who is now beside Beaulah, watching my magic attach to the orb. Beaulah’s Draguns are staying put like obedient little minions.
“Jordan!” Magic streams from my trembling fingers. I want to let go. But Beaulah. My mother . “Yagrin!”
But he is already lugging Jordan’s bleeding body away. When I turn back to the Sphere, even several hundred paces away, the sight of it stills my pulse. A piece of its glassy casing has broken free. Matter in the Sphere rolls to the gash in its exterior. A trickle of magic seeps from the crevice where the Sphere meets the earth.
It hits the air.
Then vanishes.
Evaporating.
And just like that, a whiff of magic is gone…forever.
“She’s done it!” someone screams.
The Sphere’s insides writhe. I can do this. I can get my revenge.
“Get rid of the girl.” Beaulah gives the order, shoving Felix, Yani, and a few others in my direction. The linked hands around the Sphere break as Beaulah’s Draguns come for me. I feel my pockets for Jordan’s pendant as Draguns encircle me. I pull it out when the Dragunhead shouts, “Hurry!”
Draguns assault me, their toushana streaming through the air. When their magic hits me, it pummels the wind from my chest and the pendant from my grasp. Somewhere Yagrin howls. Another person shrieks. I scramble across the snowy ground, clawing through the snow, scratching at cement headstones in the pavement, for some sign of the red stone. I stagger up, still looking. But there is no sign of Jordan’s necklace.
It’s gone.
And so is my shot at forcing Beaulah to know my misery.
Tears try to pry their way from my eyes but I have none left to cry. The Draguns don’t relent. Clouds of magic close around me so thickly, even the snow appears blackened. Toushana moves through me, comforting me as it twists around my bones like a hug. I pull at it harder, wishing it could numb the hollow ache where my heart used to live. I don’t move. I’m waiting to be destroyed when something hits me right in the stomach. I narrowly catch it.
A ball of dark swirling mist.
I drop the bomb but it explodes, and it feels like a fire erupting in my hands. The force of it punches me in the chest. I stumble back, lose my footing, and trip. I blink, and somehow the world is still there. I wait for the sting of wounds or debilitating pain. But nothing happens. I pull myself up on my feet, my body colder all over. Beaulah’s Draguns watch me, gaping, before hurling more magic.
Everywhere is death.
Everywhere is darkness.
And somehow I am existing despite it all.
The silver blade.
An ice storm stirs beneath my skin as I remember the small amount of toushana saving my life. A smile curls my lips.
The darkness can’t hurt me.
Because I am the darkness.
I defy every lie about toushana they’ve built.
I am their villain, their scapegoat, the mask to their own monstrosity. Because without people like me, there would be no one to blame for the Order’s horror but themselves.
The Draguns tire. And I am wholly intact. They cease their assault, backing away, as if they’ve had the same revelation.
“What are you doing?!” Beaulah snatches Yani by the arm. “I did not say retreat!” She looks around. “Charlie?”
The Dragunhead turns in to himself, cloaking and disappearing.
I glare at Beaulah. Then the Sphere. There is still one way I can avenge my mother. Toushana recoils in me with a vengeance. I hold my magic in, like I did at Hartsboro, letting it build up. When I release, I’m going to shatter the Sphere.