Chapter 32 Ashwiyaa #2
Alarm bells ring inside my head. I spin toward Kai, opening my mouth to warn him just as a spell shoots across the ground like a bolt of lightning, faster than my eyes can follow.
It slices through the space between us, aimed directly at Kai.
He doesn’t have time to dodge; the force of the spell slams into him, lifting him off his feet.
His body is hurled through the air as if he weighs nothing, crashing with a sickening thud against the unforgiving stone of the cliff face.
The sound of his impact reverberates through the valley, a harsh echo that makes my blood run cold. The yelp that escapes Kai is unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him.
My stomach drops like a stone as I sprint for him, adrenaline now pumping madly through my veins.
I sense another spell hurtling toward me, and I swiftly pivot and raise a shield.
Like a knife, the spell effortlessly slices through my shield, leaving me with countless small cuts all over my skin.
I scream in agony as the wounds blister before they have a chance to heal.
Frustration boils within me, my harsh breaths sawing in and out through my gritted teeth.
I feel something wet on my lip and instinctively wipe underneath my nose, only to find a streak of red blood staining my hand. I should be used to seeing my blood by now, but surprise still rolls over me.
With a menacing growl, I summon my dagger and send it tearing through the air, the blade finding its mark in the witch’s clavicle.
Her scream pierces the air, ringing like a melodic symphony in my ears and fueling my resolve.
I swiftly throw another dagger, this time aiming straight for her heart.
Her eyes flash, and she manages to deflect it with a swift motion.
Anger and frustration swirl inside me, and I mist, wanting to get closer to her.
As I reform, she’s ready, the spell already leaving her hands.
It hits me in the center of my chest, sending me slamming into a boulder.
Pain slices through me as the force breaks several ribs, and warmth immediately soaks the back of my head.
I roll off the boulder, landing hard on the unforgiving ground.
The impact is brutal, the force of it reverberating through my bones like a shockwave.
Pain explodes through my body, sharp and searing, but I don’t have the luxury of succumbing to it.
I bite back a cry, a fierce growl ripping from my throat as I push onto my back, the world spinning around me.
I gasp for breath, drawing on every bit of strength I have left. The air crackles with dark energy, and I’m struggling to focus.
So much pain.
I need to heal.
I breathe deeply through my nose, drawing my magic around me like a blanket. I can feel my bones mending, slowly fusing back together, and I grit my teeth against the pain. My head is pounding relentlessly, and my mouth feels as dry as the valley we are battling in.
“What’s wrong . . . too dead to speak?” the witch taunts.
“Child, you need to let us in.”
I shake my head. “What if I don’t come back?”
“We are part of you.”
“Trust us to help.”
I stare up at the dark sky—there isn’t a star to be seen.
Just darkness. The inky blackness seems to press down on me, heavy and suffocating, as if the night itself is swallowing up the world.
I roll my head to the side as the witch makes her way over to Kai, his wolf lying motionless on the dry, dusty earth.
Seeing her stand over him opens the floodgates, unleashing a torrent of fear as the harsh reality of our impending deaths floods my mind.
I will not meet my end at the gnarled fingers of a witch.
My stomach burns, and I struggle to draw in a full breath. “You touch one hair on his body, and I’ll skin you alive, you fucking old hag.”
With every heartbeat, my love for Kai vibrates throughout my entire being.
I roll onto my hands and knees, curling my fingers in the dirt.
I made the mistake of underestimating her once, but I learned my lesson and will never do it again.
With a roar, I forcefully rise to my feet, my legs trembling beneath me.
“Ready to take another round?” she mocks.
I don’t want to call on my ancient magic again, but I have no choice.
As soon as I accept what needs to be done, the flood gates burst open, and it takes mere seconds for the magic to consume me.
Using my shadows, I materialize behind the witch, my arm gliding silently around her neck.
A twisted satisfaction fills me at her obvious surprise.
I exert just enough pressure to cut off her air supply.
Instantly, her feeble hands shoot up in a desperate attempt to loosen my relentless grip.
Wrinkled fingers claw at my arm, her body writhing in a futile struggle for breath.
The air becomes thick with tension, and her gasps for air grow more desperate as her magic slams against me, looking for an opening.
She won’t find one, not now. The vein at her temple bulges, making my mouth curve into a wicked grin.
“What is it with you all looking like old, fragile creatures?” I grit through clenched teeth.
The witch can only gasp in reply as my shadows move around us, practically begging to help in some way. A dark, twisted part of me wants to draw this out to make her suffer.
Suddenly, the witch goes limp in my arms. I frown, disappointed that she hasn’t put up much of a struggle.
“She is of no threat now.”
“You can let her go.”
“Or you can kill her and avoid later threats.”
I blink, some of the dark haze fading from my vision. Then slowly my arm loosens its grip, and she slips from my grasp, crumpling to the ground in a motionless heap. My fingers twitch, and my daggers form in my palms, my grip curling tightly around each hilt.
In the space of a heartbeat, I’m crouched over her, both daggers crossed at her throat.
The blades hover inches from her skin, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I wrestle with the urge to end her miserable existence right here, right now.
Every muscle in my body trembles with indecision, the temptation gnawing at me.
It would be so easy—just a quick slice, and her blood would soak into the parched ground, a fitting end for someone so vile. So why am I hesitating?
The witch’s eyes snap open, her gaze locking onto mine for the briefest of moments before my blades slice through her neck.
Her head falls, rolling to the side, leaving her body.
The cut is clean and precise, done without any of my previous hesitation.
A sick and twisted sense of pleasure rolls through me.
I force myself to straighten, muscles taut, and take two deliberate steps back.
My eyes remain fixed on her form, as if I’m waiting for something—some unnatural movement or dark magic to stir her body back to life.
The silence that follows is thick, broken only by the faint whistle of the wind through the valley.
The sound of approaching footsteps snaps me out of my trance. Without thinking, I drop into a defensive crouch, daggers gripped tightly in my hands.