Chapter 50
I felt like the earth had moved from under my feet. The mermaid queen of Vantillios should not be in the clearing of a forest in the mortal kingdom of Solvardunn.
“My granddaughter has fulfilled her end of your agreement—you will let her go.” The command in her voice boomed across the clearing. Clad in a gold suit of armor, intricately designed to mimic the look of fish scales, she looked primed for battle.
Flanking her were her most formidable warriors.
Armored in teal fighting leathers, gold scale breastplates, and matching gold bracers, each warrior wielded a trident—both a weapon and a conduit of magic.
The shark teeth necklaces around their necks marked them as Vanoran warriors, the most fearsome legion in all the seas.
After two long decades of captivity, the fierce resolve in the warriors’ gazes spoke volumes. They were ready and eager for a fight.
I was overcome with emotion at the sight of them. The most prominent being relief that threatened to rip tears from my eyes.
The Crow dropped her hand and offered my grandmother a serpentine smile. “Come now Callianassa, you of all beings should know I have no intention of letting her go.”
“So be it,” my grandmother thundered, but these were not words of submission. Ominous storm clouds assembled in the sky, obstructing the moon and stars. The clearing plunged into a darkness not even the embers of the once-blazing fire could stave away. “Alara, run.”
Not needing to be told twice, I sprinted away from the witch. I’d barely put enough distance between us when the Vanorans struck.
Acting as if they shared one mind, they lifted their tridents and blasted water at the Crow. Before their blows could find their mark, she saltated away.
My eyes darted around the clearing, searching for the witch. There was no sign of her—had she fled? Surely not. She would never let me go without a fight—not after the decades she had spent plotting to ensnare me. But where was she?
Everyone went still. The only sound was the rain, now battering down upon us. Still, the Vanorans remained poised to strike.
The beat of my heart was like a hummingbird’s in flight as I surveyed the scene and readied my own powers to react.
The corpses continued to circle my friends, the maglocuni snarling like demonic guard dogs. Amalie whimpered, her face drained of all color.
I have to save them. I needed to move before the Crow came back to finish what she started. Swallowing my fear, I took a slow step forward, when—
“I hope you don’t mind, I brought some friends,” came the Crow’s voice from behind us.
My body gave an involuntary jerk.
As one, we turned to find the Crow standing at the bottom of the mound.
To her left stood two females dressed completely in black, scarves covering the lower half of their faces.
To her right stood a pallid male with flaming red hair and a single, angry scar snaking down the left side of his face.
Each of the new arrivals sported a witch’s mark on their right hand, and not one of them was armed.
My stomach hollowed out.
“Seize her,” drawled the Crow, her voice uncharacteristically low.
Lightning cracked like a whip, followed by a monstrous growl of thunder.
Chaos erupted.
The Vanorans launched water blasts on the witches with brutal efficiency.
The witches moved quickly, conjuring shields to protect themselves.
From behind their shields, they shot spears of dark power towards the Vanorans.
The unlucky few who were hit fell to their knees, sobbing and crying out for help.
But it wasn’t pain etched on their features; it was terror.
My legs were already in motion. I had no intention of being seized or speared with darkness. The others—how are the others? My eyes fell on my friends, and my heart came to a standstill at the sight.
The Crow’s undead puppets had attacked. Tarben and Filip fought, shielding Amalie, but Hugo fell to the ground, disarmed and screaming in agony—one of the maglocuni had bitten his leg.
Before the beast could strike again, a stream of water poured into its mouth, eyes, and nose.
Any living thing would suffocate from such an attack, but, for this creature, it was only enough to incapacitate it while four Vanorans—one of them shifted into polar bear form—rushed to assist my friends.
I sped past them, keeping low and carefully avoiding the fray that had broken out between living and dead.
I needed to keep moving. But, as I reached the wood pile, an errant spear of dark power slammed into me, knocking the breath from my lungs and the dagger from my hand, and sending me tumbling to the muddy ground.
Blackness.
Blackness and silence engulfed everything. A cavern? Or another realm stitched in obsidian fabric?
Pushing myself up off the ground, I tasted blood on my tongue. Blood and soil. I spat it out, then wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
I reached for the throb on the back of my head. No lump, but I saw stars every time I shut my eyes.
I looked around—I wasn’t alone.
Bodies. Bodies everywhere.
I was in the clearing outside the cottage, but everyone was dead. Desperately, frantically, I combed through the deceased, praying.
Beside the cauldron, I found them bundled on top of one another as though carelessly discarded: Filip and Hugo and Amalie and Tarben. All glassy-eyed and lifeless. Next to them lay an unmoving figure, porcelain skin blemished with cuts and bruises.
My grandmother.
I fell to my knees, buried my face in my hands, and wailed.
“Alara.” My name was a rasp on my grandmother’s lips.
A sob escaped my throat. “Grandmother.” I knelt at her side. From the way her cough rattled, I knew she wasn’t long for this world. Taking her hand, I choked out, “I’m here, grandmother.”
Her eyes, momentarily lucid, darted to my face and narrowed. “Everyone is dead because of you,” she wheezed.
I blinked through the sting in my eyes. “Wh-what?”
“Your friends are dead because of you. Your mother is dead because of you.”
Shaking, I tried to withdraw my hand from hers, but she tightened her grip, pulling me closer.
“If it weren’t for you, she’d still be here,” she hissed into my ear. “I wish you had never been born. You’re a mistake. Worthless. Unlovable.”
My breath snatched away. “You can’t mean these things.”
“I do. You are my greatest disappointment.”
My chest tightened. I’d always suspected my grandmother felt this way, but to have my fears so callously confirmed? Unbearable.
“You think you’ll return to Vantillios a hero? That you’ve proven yourself worthy to be queen?” She gave a throaty laugh. “They all see you, and they despise you. Defective. Insignificant. Do your kingdom a kindness and go with the Crow.”
Her words were as sharp and venomous as a sea urchin’s spine. Just as painful. Fresh tears escaped my eyes and rushed down my face.
She was right. I should go with the Crow.
No.
From the furthest reaches of my mind came an unfamiliar voice.
She’s wrong. You’re wrong about yourself. You are not broken. You are not to blame for your mother’s death. And you don’t have to prove yourself to be deserving of love. You are extraordinary.
Could I believe the voice?
I forced myself to meet her eyes. All I saw was hatred. Hatred and disgust.
None of this is real. You need to wake up and run—she’s coming for you.
Recollection pawed at my mind. I tried and failed to grasp the whisper of a memory.
The Crow—she’s coming. You need to wake up, now.
My grandmother’s nostrils flared. “You are weak. You ruin everything. Just look at the mess you’re making,” she snarled.
Eyes still blurry with tears, I looked down. The wound on my chest splintered and seeped. Wincing, I clutched it, feeling the oozing fluid slip through my fingers like wine through a leaky barrel.
Something was wrong. How was I still bleeding? I thought it had healed itself.
The door to my mind flew open with a crash. Realization stepped inside. “This isn’t real.” I wrenched my hand out of her iron grip.
Her beautiful face contorted. “Worthless,” she seethed.
Wake up!
The blackness and stillness dissolved and were replaced by the sounds of crashes and bangs and shouts from the surrounding skirmish.
Gasping, I pressed against my wound—still healed.
I propped myself up on my elbows. Wet leaves and muck clung to my hair and clothes.
Pelting rain blurred my vision as I scanned the scene.
My heart staggered. Everyone was still alive and fighting, but half a dozen more witches seemed to have appeared while I was…
dreaming? Hallucinating? Whatever it had been, it left me sweating and shaking uncontrollably.
I was a wreck, but I needed to find the dagger, pick myself off the ground, and run. Now.
Just as I was about to do exactly that, the Crow appeared in front of me, wings arched. “You can end all this if you’ll only come with me.”
“Tempting, but I’m going to have to decline,” I said, scrambling backwards and feeling around for the discarded dagger. I was admittedly still rattled by my nightmare, but I sure as Vell wouldn’t be going anywhere without a fight.
I assessed her approaching figure. Unfortunately, it seemed the witch had the upper hand in this scenario.
Clicking her tongue, she said, “So selfish. Very well, against your will it is.” She muttered something under her breath and a pale blue light came hurtling towards me. I rolled out of the way, narrowly missing her spell and locating the lost dagger in the process.
Before she could act again, I hurled a blast of water at her.
The blast was powerful enough to bowl her over. She landed on her back with a grunt.
Using the distraction, I picked myself and the dagger off the ground, never taking my eyes off the witch at my feet.
Face twisted in rage, she sent another spell hurtling towards me, but I dodged to the right, avoiding the pale blue light once more.
I pivoted and came to a screeching halt.
Gliding on her wings, she landed in front of me.
“Your little trick back there? That was a mistake,” she said, baring her blackened teeth.
There was no time for hesitation or doubt. I lifted the dagger and drove it into her chest.
She stumbled backwards, stunned but not killed. It was the distraction I needed.
Hitching up my gown, I accelerated past her at breakneck speed. My footsteps thudded against the puddles on the ground, my target drawing nearer with every splash. The cottage—it was just within my reach.
Lungs screaming, I flew through the rickety hinges of the open front door. Slamming it shut behind me, I doubled over, panting.
Inside, the lingering stench was as putrid and stifling as I remembered. Only now, alone in the all-encompassing darkness, the atmosphere felt much more sinister.
The dwelling shook with a boom of thunder. Over the battering of rain against the leaky roof, I could hear shouts from the melee outside.
“You will pay for that,” called the Crow. “It won’t be comfortable for you where we’re going, I’ll make sure of it.”
“If you think I’m going anywhere with you, you’re denser than a cauldron full of rocks,” I called back with a boldness that I certainly didn’t feel.
A shrill laugh. “I’m the dense one? You’ve only succeeded in making this easier for me. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide...”
It wouldn’t be long now.
Once more, the Crow saltated in front of me. The moment she materialized in the dilapidated cottage, we locked eyes. The air evacuated my lungs.
A split second.
It took only a split second before the Crow’s face fell. In that second, I glimpsed understanding and horror in her jaundiced eyes.
The shrieks came first, but the almighty roar of the jade fire that engulfed her entire body and cast the room in an eerie, green light quickly drowned them out. Before I could draw breath, the hungry flames flared and devoured the Crow whole.
I inhaled sharply. The heat from the fire fanned me, but it made no move to ignite the wooden floor underneath my feet.
Then, as abruptly as they had appeared, the flames vanished, leaving nothing but a plume of coiling smoke in their wake. The only trace of the Crow’s existence was now just particles in the air.