Chapter Fourteen #2
It feels as if I were listening to his voice from somewhere far away, even as the grip of his magic holds me still—steady, though I feel anything but.
Morana’s cackle sends a shiver down my spine. “I might have believed you,” she says, dragging a nail across Will’s cheek, a trail of blood dribbling down her finger, “had you not asked that I free the child.”
Will meets her stare once more, a wicked smirk curling his lips. “Call it a show of good faith.”
Morana cocks her head, eyes narrowing. “For whom?”
“Show Aster that you mean what you say—about a better world,” he says smoothly, “and perhaps she’ll be more willing to guide your search for the Relics.”
Relics? Morana wants my power—she wants the power of the Lightbringer. All this time, I’ve thought that’s all she was after, and once she had it, there would be nothing stopping her from taking control of the Known World. Does the Order—do Mother and Father—know about these relics?
Morana’s lip curls, but she shrugs, as if indifferent. “Once I’ve taken back the power of the Lightbringer—once she’s turned into a Shifter—she won’t be able to fight me. I can impose my will.”
“I disagree,” Will says, his smile biting.
“I’ve spent months attempting to control her.
Her spirit is strong. If she believes her family is in danger, she will continue to fight you—even after she’s turned.
But if you show her you’re willing to be merciful”—he flicks a glance at her nails, still piercing his skin—“that you’re willing to spare the people she cares for—then you’ll have another loyal servant. ”
Morana’s grip tightens as she turns his face from side to side, her gaze inspecting him with cruel curiosity.
“I still remember the day I rescued you from your previous master,” she says, her lips pursed in a mocking pout.
“You were willing to do anything to be free of his control, even if it meant pledging your allegiance to me. Then, you didn’t care about mercy.
What makes you think this will be enough to sway her heart? ”
Will’s eyes darken, but I think I imagine the hesitancy in his voice when he says, “She’ll do anything to save the people she loves.”
Morana grins, releasing Will to stand once more.
She brings her finger to her lips, her tongue swiping out to collect Will’s blood from her nail.
“I’ve missed you, Azeron,” she says, the bloodred of her irises flaring.
“But if you fail me again, it will be the last time. Don’t forget; I saved you from your previous master, and I can always send you back. ”
Will bows his head, his fists clenched. “The True King will fall. I will not rest until it is so.”
She reaches down to stroke his cheek, smearing it with his own blood. “Good boy,” she croons. “Now,” she says with a dreamy sigh, picking up the dagger once more, “where was I?”
She stalks toward me, moving with feline grace.
As she approaches, I feel Will’s magic forcing me to stand.
Even on my feet, Morana looms over me, and Will’s magic coaxes me to look up into her eyes, which appear to flicker like the infernos that consume the lands above.
I wonder if that’s what the Known World will soon look like—a charred wasteland consumed by fire and shadows.
She points the dagger at my forehead. “I believe I’ll start here,” she says. “I’ve spent centuries contemplating the ways I’d drain you of your blood. I’d like to try them all.”
I refuse to scream. I refuse to look away, even as I feel the dagger slice my skin when she makes the first cut.
As my blood pools onto the dagger and she brings it to her mouth, her tongue darting out to collect it, her eyes burn brighter than before, infused with golden light.
Behind her, Will takes a step forward, as if mesmerized by the sight.
I remember what Titus said about Will having had a taste of my blood, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s about to interfere, unable to control his own twisted bloodlust, when Morana coughs.
Blood spatters my face, the metallic taste coating my lips.
It happens so fast, my mind can’t comprehend what I’m seeing.
Owen, holding Annie over his shoulder, standing beside me, where only a second ago he’d been behind Will, near the base of the dais.
The second dagger clenched in his fist, the blade piercing Morana’s stomach.
The blood splattered Owen’s face, too. He licks his lips, his eyes lit with a subtle honey glow, and grabs my arm.
There’s a loud pop, followed by the whoosh of wind, and we’re plunged into total darkness.
A force compresses me flat, crushing me beneath an invisible weight.
Time slips past me, stinging my face like shards of icy rain.
Just when the pressure becomes unbearable, as if it will rip me to shreds and I will cease to exist, there’s another pop, and the world tilts as I fall forward, my legs turning to water.
Owen’s grip on my arm is the only thing that keeps me upright.
For a moment, I’m completely blind. The light is too bright, the sun too warm.
I dry heave, my temples throbbing. Just as I begin to recognize my surroundings—the desert, the train tracks—Owen shakes me, his urgent voice muffled beneath the ringing in my ears.
“…together. Right?”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer.
Pop. We disappear.