45. Esther #3
The cool touch of my throat marking calls to me as if a light in the darkness as Grimace pulls me back.
But how good this feels, how much I hate this greer.
It only fuels my desire to toy with her and give her a horrific death.
Yet when I look at her, really see her now, I become aware of my own cruelty, shadowed by the thought of Master Kain watching over this.
The touch of Felia’s influence is all too easy to fall into, and it’s my master’s words that call me back. “Do not let the darkness take you. Defend those who need your protection.”
But playing with your prey is so much fun, a woman’s voice echoes through my magic.
As enticing as her voice is, I struggle against it, reminding myself of the priority. Ice shards spread from inside the wind greer, blossoming like a flower to instantly end her suffering. I shudder, terrified by the voice of a god I have tried to run from for as long as I can remember.
I know it’s Felia, because only she is called forth from the darkness, and so I revoke her touch and praise, thanking Grimace for calling me back.
Though I feel like I’ve tarnished one of the enchantments Master Kain has taught me.
He taught me how to make frozen roses out of ice with my magic, I never thought I’d use it for someone’s demise.
A wave of more soldiers and beasts run up the hill as we become further outnumbered.
Sheila weakly rolls over, blood pooling from her mouth as she tries to stand and fails. Yet, she’s still protected by my ice shield at the front, the feelopes at her back, snarling as we’re circled.
My magic swells within my stomach as I give in to it a little more, tempting what my limits might be.
Neina, be with me. I pray to a god I’ve never believed in, but hope thinking of her deters Felia from slipping back in, and protects the one man I’m trying to get to. Her son.
My magic explodes. My invisible chains shifting into the roots beneath the earth as they tear through the ground, grabbing at soldiers as I slice water toward others, sharpening its edges with ice.
I gather more water from the sea, calling it forth and letting it hold in the sky for a heartbeat as my mind rattles with all the spells and forms it can take.
The droplets turn into fine icicles, contorting their naturally flowing rhythm into small daggers and blades.
I slam them from the sky, like ice lightning striking down.
Patches of earth explode from its magnitude, and any resistance from greers is barely enough to deter its course and target of their beating hearts.
Dahlia’s men and beasts fall. My lungs burning from frost as I take a shaky breath and realize the battlefield glistens in red; the few who remain are my brethren.
My body is heavy, my legs weak, my magic drained as I walk toward Sheila, desperate to make sure she’s okay.
“Sheila,” I whisper as I fall to my knees beside her. Biscuit and Lovealots nudge at her hands on either side, her cane loosely in one as she chants weakly with her face in the dirt. I try to better position her, and she coughs blood, the chest wound deep.
Fuck, how do I fix this? “Link.” I connect with her magic, thinking surely, if I had anything to help her, it would be from spirit magic, but as enchantments come through, the language is all gibberish.
I try to grasp onto some, but they fade through my grasp like wind in the trees.
“Come on,” I say, trying to heave her up as five warriors come toward us, stopping in their tracks as they stare at their matriarch.
“You must protect him,” Sheila mumbles.
“No, no, no. No.” I shake her, the raw feelings of never being able to hold my own master like this dawning on me. No, I can’t lose her as well. “You shouldn’t have intervened. I would’ve been okay,” my voice breaks. “You have to go back to Skyla. Think of Imogine, of your grandbaby?”
A wry smile blooms on her lips as she looks into the sky.
“Child, I have outsmarted death for a long time. I have played my part; now it is time for yours. You are as important as he.” Her hands come to cup my cheeks.
“Look after your beast.” Her weak fingers curl around her cane as she barely pulls it up toward her chest. “Take this with you. You will need it.”
“No, you’ll need it,” I cry as the light glow of my throat marking opens, and Grimace materializes, quickly coming to scamper around her. He bites into the end of the cane, sucking it out of her hand as he inhales it.
Men step back, uncertain of the small beast.
Sheila slowly removes the ring from her finger. “Give this to Imogine when you see her next.” Her bloody hands hold up the ring, and then her gaze slips to the two feelopes who nudge at her. “Thank you for helping ease the pain and passing, my friends—”
Her words die, leaving only space for silence as her hand with the ring drops, and Grimace swallows the ring as well.
No, no, no.
I shake her once, willing her to come to life, my connection with her magic lost.
“Esther.”
Someone’s hand lands on my shoulder, but I spin viciously. “No! This isn’t fair!” I scream. Blaze’s icy blue eyes look down at me, his left eye closed and bleeding. One of his arms scorched. My chest swells. Oh fuck. I try to get to my feet, but wobble as he catches me.
My magic is tired.
“War is never fair, Esther. And we are not done,” he reminds me, pulling me to my feet.