Chapter 36 Anouk
Anouk was at war with herself. Panic fanned the flames of her magic, and her golems sprang to life, razing their way through the city.
The villagers danced on, oblivious.
Stop. She curled her fingers, trying to crush her power into something small and manageable. She imagined a pebble in her fist, as smooth and gold as Lightfire.
I am greater than you.
You answer to me.
Along the riverbank, her golems froze mid-step. The surrounding taverns ceased their trembling. Over the raucous thunder of her own heart, she heard the dove’s song. Fantome was singing. Townsfolk littered the streets, raising their voices to the heavens.
A black shadow dragon circled overhead, devouring their prayers.
Anouk measured her breaths as the cobbles trembled. Her nails pressed half-moons into her palms.
I am greater than you.
You belong to me.
It might have worked if not for the screams gathering on the wind. Bastian’s dragon skimmed the river and banked, heading east for Lark and his bannermen.
In thrall to his power, her brother left the bridge and stalked north.
‘Bastian!’ Anouk ran after him, that pebble loosening in her grip.
She grabbed his wrist, tugging him back to her. He turned, but looked past her with glazed eyes. Raw power peered out, and she glimpsed the beast within. Her brother was gone.
‘Bastian.’ Her voice broke. ‘Don’t hurt them.’
He walked on, uncaring. The dragon swooped, and the front line of Andreas’s bannermen fell. The townsfolk scattered in terror as Merchant’s Way surrendered to his shadows.
Every step towards Lark took Bastian one step further from his own mind.
His magic was in control now, and she could not reason with a dragon.
Fear plumed into dread, her breath coming hard and fast. Cobbles cracked underfoot as her own magic erupted.
Her golems resumed their march, tearing up the street as they went.
Windows shattered and lamp posts fell, as she followed her brother down Merchant’s Way.
Dimly, she was aware of someone shouting her name.
There came a flash of silver.
The world blinked and a golem exploded in a hail of clay.
Another strike. Closer. Brighter.
Two more golems exploded.
Her magic buckled.
Anouk blinked.
The next strike scoured a hole in Merchant’s Way. Cobbles smoked as they melted, creating a hole so wide it swallowed the rest of Anouk’s golems. Her power guttered and she stumbled.
Paola caught her elbow. ‘All right?’ she huffed, steadying her.
Anouk returned to herself with a shudder. She surveyed the destruction around her. Her destruction. ‘What have I done?’
‘Never mind that now. Can you get that damn dragon out of the sky?’
Bastian, still lost in the full tilt of his power, was trapped with them on the near side of the trench. Anouk leaped in front of him, pressing her hands against his chest. His heart hammered under her palm, and she gripped his shirt, shaking him.
‘Breathe, Bastian. You have to breathe.’
His chest was heaving, sweat dripping down his face.
‘We have to turn back,’ she said, urgently. ‘We have to get back to Seraphine and the others.’
Sera’s name struck him like an arrow. He jerked. High above, his dragon faltered.
‘Sera’s waiting for you,’ said Anouk. ‘Surrender your beast.’
He blinked, long and slow.
‘Come back to me, brother.’
The fight went out of him and he sagged against her. Run through by his own magic, he could barely stand. With Paola’s help, Anouk shouldered his weight, and together, they turned south towards the bridge.
Slowly, so very slowly, the dragon misted in the sky. Shadows fell like ribbons, dissolving as they kissed the cobbles. By then, the streets were empty, littered with broken glass and pulverized rubble, torn banners and dead bannermen.
All of it – every last unholy horror – was their fault.