66. The Price of Vengeance
The Price of Vengeance
Cold stone bit into my cheek as blood pooled around me. The blade ground against my ribs with every breath, metal scraping, sending fresh agony through nerves already on fire. Whatever coated its surface ate through my veins—acid warring with divine healing, tearing me apart from the inside out.
Stay awake. Stay alive. Save Thatcher.
They'd already dismissed me.
Their mistake.
"How long now?" That treacherous feminine voice rattled through the chamber.
Elysia. It had been her that day. At the Cascades. When her eyes lingered on me a beat too long and my drink ended up with a lethal dose of dreamweep.
Of course it had been her.
"Minutes." Moros ran Olinthar's hands over Thatcher's unconscious form with sick reverence. "After millennia of waiting, mere minutes."
I bit through my lip to muffle the whimper building in my throat as I reached behind me.
My fingers found the hilt, slippery with blood—so much blood.
The metal had eaten deep. Every instinct screamed to leave it.
Removing it would only accelerate death.
But it was the poison lacing its surface that was killing me, not the blade itself.
But I couldn't die here. Not with Thatcher helpless on that altar.
One swift motion. That's all.
I yanked it free.
The scream that wanted to tear from my throat would have brought the temple down.
Instead, I bit until copper flooded my mouth, muffling the sound into a strangled gurgle lost beneath echoing footsteps.
My blood flowed faster now, hot and thick, but divine power surged in response, fighting desperately against the poison that refused to let my wounds close.
It wasn't enough. It ate at the edges faster than my body could repair. But I didn't need to heal completely. Just needed to hold together long enough.
"Soon, I'll have a body worthy of my return."
"And the girl?" Elysia asked. "She's stronger than anticipated. I've never seen starlight manifest so purely."
"She must die today." A pause, and I heard the smile in his voice. "Though I admit, in another life, she might have been useful."
Wrong, you ancient bastard.
I pulled starlight from that deep well within me. Power came reluctantly, stuttering. Not for a weapon. Not for attack. For something far simpler and more devastating.
A star. Compressed into a sphere no larger than my fist.
The effort nearly killed me. Black spots danced across my vision as I poured everything into that tiny point of light. It wanted to explode, to expand, to become what stars were meant to be.
Finally, I let it bloom.
For Thatcher.
Light erupted in the temple—a sun being born. Brilliant radiance washed over everything, coating the chamber in roaring brightness. Shadows didn't flee—they died, evaporated before absolute illumination.
Moros roared. The sound shook dust from the ceiling and made reality flinch. Stone cracked under that cry. I heard Olinthar's stolen body crash into something that shattered. Heard Elysia curse as light caught her.
Now.
I dragged myself across blood-slicked floor. Every movement brought fresh agony. Every inch became a victory. My vision swam, poison and blood loss working in terrible harmony, but Thatcher lay just ahead. Still unconscious. Still breathing. Still alive.
Ten feet. Five. Almost there.
My fingers had just brushed Thatcher's ankle when Moros clawed his way back to the dais.
He drove the curved blade deep into my brother's chest.
I screamed—a horrifying, blood-pitched thing.
"There." Satisfaction dripped from every word as black blood began seeping from the wound. "Soon now."
Thatcher's eyes snapped open, and I thought my heart might just explode at the sight.
Then his left hand shattered his restraints.
Thais!
Thatcher—Moros. He’s back. He's trying to take your body. I gathered starlight frantically, forming blade after blade despite the agony. Some kind of ritual. You have to get free!
I heard everything, Thais. His mental voice crashed into mine, alive with pain and fury.
Moros whirled toward Elysia, fury contorting Olinthar's features. "You didn't give him enough!" he snarled.
Elysia's eyes widened in shock. "I gave him a dose that would drop a colossus!"
The blade ? —
Don't let him complete whatever he's doing!
Moros brought Olinthar's fist down toward Thatcher's face. But I'd already released my arsenal. A dozen star blades screamed through the air. His focus on Thatcher cost him. Three found their mark, slicing deep. Blood the color of rot sprayed in an arc.
That’s when I felt it. Light coursing through my veins, eating me alive until it burst from my skin and hovered above my head.
My crown of stars.
"Impossible." Moros whirled to face me. “You shouldn’t even be able to stand right now.”
I grabbed three of the motes of light, morphing them into blades that caught him in the chest, driving him back a step.
The distraction was all Thatcher needed. He ripped the dagger from his chest, wound already closing. One fluid motion took him off the dais. He landed in a crouch that cracked stone beneath his feet.
I pushed myself up, gathering power for another strike?—
Pain exploded across my scalp. Fingers twisted in my hair, yanking backward. I hit the ground hard, sparks exploding across my vision. Elysia's beautiful face filled my sight.
"You already rid yourself of the blade?" She produced a dagger from nowhere. "Here, have another."
I'll handle Moros, Thatcher sent, rolling away as Olinthar’s body lunged. Just stay alive.
You stay alive.
I caught Elysia's wrist as the blade descended, rage blazing beneath my skin despite poison trying to snuff it out. She was stronger than she looked—pure Aesymarean blood ran true in her veins, years of practice behind every move. But I had something she didn't.
Nothing left to lose.
A burst of energy rushed through me. Perhaps death's final gift. I was healing at an unimaginable speed. My wound had already started to close as if my body was fighting the poison with renewed fervor.
"Nice try." I used her momentum to roll us across the floor. Stone cratered beneath us. "But my back isn't conveniently available this time."
We crashed into a pillar, but this one held, cracks spidering up its length. Elysia's blade skittered away into darkness.
"That's better." She tried to pin my arms. "I can look you in the eyes when I end you."
“Oh really?” I slammed my forehead into her nose. Cartilage crunched. Blood exploded between us. “Can you still see through all of that?”
She whimpered before cracking her neck and smiling, crimson coating her perfect teeth. “It doesn’t matter. You’re going to die either way. Killing you will only further prove my loyalty to him.”
"Why are you doing this?” The question came through gritted teeth as she slammed her knee into my thigh.
She reeled back, twisting her fingers into my gown and pulling. "You wouldn't understand. You were born powerful. Born to matter."
We rolled across the temple floor, trading blows. My body screamed in protest, but I pushed through the pain. It was getting more bearable now, as if something beyond divine healing was coursing through me.
"I was nothing," she snarled, managing to pin my wrists for a moment. "Beautiful, yes, but beauty only gets you so far. My parents are lesser Aesymar, content with their mediocrity. They expected me to disappear into obscurity just like them."
I broke her hold, driving an elbow into her ribs. "So you decided to help destroy the world instead?"
"I decided to matter!" She rolled away, coming up with another blade. "Do you know what it's like? To be overlooked your entire existence? To have everyone see your face but never your potential?"
"Plenty of people feel overlooked without turning traitor," I spat, dodging her strike.
"They lack ambition. When Moros approached me, when he saw what everyone else missed—someone willing to do anything, sacrifice anyone, to rise—I knew my moment had come."
"Your moment to be his puppet?"
"His queen!" The word burst from her with desperate pride. "When he rules all four realms, I'll stand beside him. Not as decoration, but as power incarnate. My parents, the Legends who dismissed me, everyone who thought Elysia would amount to nothing—they'll bow or they'll burn."
Behind us, reality groaned—a living thing in pain. I risked a glance and my heart nearly stopped.
Olinthar's body betrayed itself. Arms bent the wrong way. Skin rippled and bubbled like boiling water. Bones cracked and reformed, turning him into a puppet with tangled strings.
But Moros was no mere possessing spirit. He was a Primordial, older than the gods themselves.
"You think to unmake me?" Moros's voice shattered through the temple, and blinding light exploded from Olinthar's skin.
He raised both hands, and the temple filled with searing radiance. Light became solid, forming chains that wrapped around Thatcher's throat. My brother gasped, stumbling back as they tried to strangle him. Then there was a crack, and Moros doubled over.
Elysia used my distraction to break free. She rolled away and came up with another blade—where the fuck did she keep getting these? I barely got my arm up in time. The edge sliced deep into forearm instead of throat. More poison. More fire in my veins.
She circled me, predator stalking her prey. Her broken nose had already healed, though blood still painted her chin red. "We’ll look so wonderful together, don’t you think?"
"Too bad you won't live to see it." Light pooled in my palms, and I punched the bitch.
She shot back before lunging again, blade singing through air.
I caught her wrist, twisted, and drove a blade of pure starlight up through her ribs.
The world paused.
Elysia's eyes widened, more surprised than pained. She looked down at stellar fire protruding from her chest, then back at me. Blood bubbled from her lips as she tried to speak.