XXX | CORRUPTION MAGIC
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All she could muster was a pitiful, "You're lying." But she knew he wasn't. And part of her felt like she already knew the truth, too.
A sliver of a smile quivered on Zelphar's lips, and as Celvene studied his face, she couldn't detect a hint of feigned veracity, any sign of deception. Either his mask was thick, or he wasn't lying. One of Zelphar's eyebrows raised ever so slightly.
"Am I?" was all he said.
Celvene gritted her teeth, fury lighting up in her burning eyes.
She was fighting off tears, though they were precariously close to falling.
It would make sense if Melantha was the one to kill Virion.
She'd been skulking around Aizasea for no reason—at least no reason she'd tell Celvene—and she'd been trained in Zelphar's army, picked from the "cream of the crop," as she'd put it.
Why would Zelphar have picked Melantha, the little girl who was whisked from kingdom to kingdom because of her parents? Melantha, the little girl who'd never done an ounce of combat training besides the short seminars in a school for mages, where she'd struggled to break the surface of the waters.
Zelphar had a reason to pick Melantha. He saw something in her. Something dark and deadly that Celvene couldn't muster up the courage to face.
And judging by Melantha's silence, Zelphar was right.
Yet, despite this, Celvene clenched her fist tighter. The ice magic, still alive in her hands, soared upwards, a jagged spike that Zelphar was not prepared for. The sharp tip came to a rest on the skin of his neck, a mere breath away from breaking open his skin and spilling red.
He paid it no mind. Tilting his head, he glanced at Melantha out of the corner of his eye. His voice was still directed towards Celvene. "You know I'm correct, don't you? I can see it in your eyes. You don't trust her."
"Celvene, no. No. No, no, no. He's lying.
He's not telling the truth, Celvene. I may have done some activities in Aizasea that were not exactly legal, but I wouldn't murder Virion," Melantha said, the words tumbling out of her mouth in a blur.
But Celvene could hardly hear her over the sound of blood rushing in her ears.
She'd been through so much with Melantha, even if it was during their childhoods.
Melantha had been the one to introduce her to baking.
She'd been the one to introduce Melantha to acrobatics.
They'd been each other's first real friend.
She didn't want to believe Zelphar in the slightest. But he'd planted a seed of doubt, and its growth had already started.
Celvene, despite herself, didn't know if she could trust Melantha.
A breathy chuckle escaped Zelphar's lips.
"She is such an obedient soldier. Strong, resilient, silent.
It was imperative I chose someone light enough on their feet that they'd be able to get in and out without being detected.
And it worked, correct? I heard the rumors.
Your city's guards were clueless until they heard poor Virion choking on his own blood. "
Celvene's lip trembled. She couldn't believe Zelphar. She refused to.
"Of course, it didn't come without its challenges.
" A short, melancholic sigh pierced the air, and Celvene knew Zelphar was faking every ounce of emotion he was presenting.
"It took a lot of convincing to get her to agree.
I knew she was the finest soldier in my collection to send for the job, but she's always been rather firm in her beliefs.
We butt heads quite often, until I silenced her. "
Melantha's eyes widened, bright red against her skin, which had paled to the same shade as snow. The words that she whispered were quiet, yet Celvene could hear her perfectly. "Is... Is that why my memories are so spotty? It wasn't because I was sick, was it?"
"You are sick, my dear. And I am your savior.
I will be the reason Noriya prospers, and the reason you are healed from your worries, your troubles, everything.
I've trained you to be a soldier, and a soldier you will become, no matter how I must achieve that.
You're part of my plan. Once we achieve our goals, you will never be sick again. "
The sword in Melantha's hand shook. She took a step towards Zelphar. Celvene was frozen to the spot, unsure of what to do. She kept the ice pressed to Zelphar's neck, but made no moves to approach Melantha. Was this her battle to fight? Did she want to fight it?
"Your corruption magic," Melantha said, as though the final piece of a puzzle clicked into place. "You manipulated my memories. I would have never agreed to killing Virion. Did you manipulate my body, too?"
"Gods, I hate that word. Manipulated," Zelphar said, enunciating the syllables and cringing. The word was spit out with disdain. "Can you pick nothing else?"
"Answer the question," Melantha growled, taking another step forward. She'd almost reached Zelphar, who made no moves to readjust himself. Celvene had to wonder why. He had something up his sleeve, didn't he?
"I didn't manipulate you, my dear. I simply twisted your will, your desires.
It would take the work of a god somehow more powerful than I to control your entire body for an entire mission in a kingdom as far away as Aizasea.
You did it completely by yourself. Every thrust of the blade, every drop of blood spilled, is your fault.
You were the one in control of your dagger. "
Instead of retorting some insult or pausing like Celvene expected, Melantha rushed forward. She raised her sword, and even through the blur of her running, Celvene could see tears streaming down her face.
Celvene's mind jumped to protecting Melantha, despite her doubts, but that wouldn't work if the ice was in her way. She did her best to move the slick sheet before Melantha stepped onto it, but Melantha jumped onto the icy tile without a care. She didn't fall—but her body froze.
Celvene glanced down at her hands to make sure it wasn't her own doing.
But when she looked up again, Melantha's body was surrounded by a crackling red glow.
A low thrum now filled the room, and Melantha's toned muscles twitched, like she was trying to move but was rooted to place.
Soft hisses of pain accompanied the magic's ballad, the sound making Celvene's heart ache.
Was Zelphar using his magic to control Melantha's body once again?
"You're running out of usefulness, soldier," Zelphar said, standing at last. He left one hand raised, the other dangling by his side.
"Soon, I may have to find a suitable replacement.
I can't have a defect running around in my ranks when there are countless people roaming the streets of Noriya who'd take your sword with a merry, bloodthirsty song in their heart. "
"You won't find anyone with my prowess in battle. With my skills," Melantha said, though her voice was high-pitched and strained. Celvene's hands itched to direct her magic towards Zelphar once again, but she knew it wouldn't end well for Melantha.
"Oh, you think you're special, do you?" Zelphar laughed, a sneer crinkling his features.
"No, Melantha. You just failed your test, and now I fear I may have no more use for you.
You were nothing but an experiment to me.
To see how effective street scum would be.
Why else would I pluck up the first urchin I saw, knowing nothing about you?
Your father's past means nothing to me, and his intellect in battle clearly was not passed down to you. "
Melantha's jaw locked, but she remained quiet.
Zelphar flourished his hand, and another sharp hiss of pain flooded the still air. The incapacitated soldiers were unmoving, Melantha was unmoving, and Zelphar's dangerous gaze flicked from figure to figure.
"Now, I'm willing to let bygones be bygones, despite your uselessness.
You're still a child to me, and you're inevitably destined to make the foolish mistakes all mortals make.
I can alter your memories after this silly situation is resolved, and you can go back to being the soldier you're supposed to be," Zelphar said.
"I know some part of you, deep, deep, deep, deep down has some semblance of use.
All I ask is that you end the life of this whelp that has been traipsing through my kingdom for far too long now.
She was a worthy prospect of queen when she played her cards right, but the girl has grown tiresome, and I'd prefer if she didn't leave Noriya in one piece.
My grace is running low, so it would be wise for you to listen without complaint, lest you end up like Alira. "
Melantha, even through the veil of crimson freezing her body, flinched. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Celvene's jaw went taut, and she raised her hands, prepared to move her magic once again.
"Ah, ah, ah," Zelphar said, looking at Celvene and clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Careful. I can cut her life short with one flick of the wrist."
Celvene ignored his threats; she had a hunch that, despite what he promised, Melantha would end up dead regardless if Celvene didn't try to protect her.
His earlier words told a different story than what he tried to lie to Celvene with.
Melantha was in pain, and Celvene would be a fool to sit by and do nothing when she was capable of acting.
She wasn't going to go for his throat again. He'd be expecting that.
Shaking her head, she redirected the ice towards his hands with a swift thrust of her arm.
Zelphar tried to dodge her attack, but his movements were slowed by the magic swirling in his hands.
The ice, hungry for a target, wrapped itself around Zelphar's wrists.
While his spell would continue unless he severed it himself or Celvene managed to cover his fingers in frost, she forced the ice to crawl up enough of his hand that he was rendered immobile.
He couldn't force Melantha to do anything more—for now.
Celvene could feel her magic seeping from her body, forcing her into a lethargic slump, but she pushed past it. She needed to be strong right now.
An icicle sprouted from the ice, almost piercing Zelphar's neck.
But Celvene stopped it in the nick of time—she didn't want to kill him.
She knew that would spell trouble for Aizasea; if she killed Noriya's king now, the citizens would be in an uproar by sunrise.
Celvene didn't want to risk her kingdom's safety for the satisfaction of ending Zelphar's life.
He would die eventually, she hoped.
But he had an iron grip on this kingdom, and if they were upset about their king dying, they would take it to Aizasea's gates.
Plus, Celvene would be shot dead where she stood if she did manage to kill him.
She only wanted to protect Melantha at the moment.
Zelphar was still, narrowing his eyes.
"Do it," Zelphar said, his voice vibrating with mirthless laughter. "You know what will happen, and all it will lead to is a more painful death for you."
He wouldn't die. He was a god. Celvene could rip Zelphar to shreds.
She could gag and drown him, slice his body into bloody ribbons with her daggers, poison him with a glass of wine, or freeze his heart with the chill of her ice.
But it wouldn't matter. Only another immortal, or their weapon, could kill him, evident by Virion's death.
Celvene's head dipped, her hands still clenched into trembling fists, taut with tension.
The ice did not fall, but she could feel its coldness transition to uncomfortable hotness, and unsteady plopping soon followed.
Warmth swelled beneath her, and she knew Zelphar had lit a flame. But she couldn't meet his eyes.
She'd failed. She should've driven the icicle through his neck.
She should've sent his soul back to wherever it went to regenerate so she could escape with Melantha in tow.
But she was too scared, too weak—she couldn't fathom killing another person.
Blood was a gruesome sight, scarlet and bright, dark and cold, all at the same time.
Its embrace was far from a hug—it was a constriction, and Celvene didn't fancy having the air choked out of her.
Not tonight. But still, she knew...
She should've killed him. If only for a few hours.
And then a tightness like she'd never felt before clasped at her neck.
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