LVI | THE BEGINNING OF THE END
She looked to Aleksandr, who'd stepped off the stage and was kneeling on the ground. Blood poured out of his wounds, dripping onto the marbled floor in thick clumps. Her head swam at the sight, though she didn't know if it was from his blood or the loss of her own.
The soldiers hit the ground, rumbling the castle's walls.
Chaos erupted in an instant, and the pop of gun bullets sounded.
If Celvene didn't act fast, everyone in the castle would die.
But what could she do? Even with whatever the magic she held could do, she doubted it was enough to stop an entire army.
Parts of the chandelier were missing and had fallen on top of soldiers, crushing them. Soot marks stretched across the tiled ground, black against white, and puddles from ice and water magic crowded the floor.
Trails of blood smeared on the ground, and though Celvene prayed it was not her people's, she knew that it was.
Their movements were slow and sloppy, and their weapons were dull.
Aleksandr had purposely sabotaged the entire army so he would be able to win with ease—and Celvene could do nothing about it.
Above, rain dripped from the sky. The Noriya soldiers wasted no time in sinking their blades into the bodies of the Aizasean soldiers that were left standing. If Celvene hadn't been worried about their chances of success before, she certainly was now. And they'd spot her soon.
She made her way off the stage, wincing at the pain that bloomed in her body.
Pulling out her bag of runespowder, she contemplated her next move.
Any spell she knew wouldn't stop the entire ballroom, but she needed to work, and fast. The lives of innocent civilians were at stake, and the longer she waited, the more soldiers Noriya could kill.
She crawled to the side and peered into the ballroom.
There had to be over one hundred dead soldiers now, maybe more, whose limp bodies littered the room.
The stench of death plagued every one of her senses, and she realized with a shudder that the scene was eerily similar to the one she'd envisioned on the battlefield. But this wasn't her doing.
And that hungry red haze returned, as if triggered by the memory of the vision.
Celvene's hands were controlled by a puppeteer, like she was a mere marionette.
She could only watch in horror. If she had a say, both her mind and heart would scream for her to stop.
To prevent this from happening. Instead, they sang, with a merry, black melody.
They sang louder than Celvene could fathom.
Her hands slid through the air in graceful strokes, and the runespowder that solidified turned a red as bright as blood.
Before she could stop herself, have any control over her body, she'd cast the rune.
And it surged forward in a disgusting, glorious rush, tainting the entire room crimson.
Celvene didn't know how she felt, watching the magic twist into the air.
She wanted to feel angry—angry at Zelphar, angry at Aleksandr, angry at the world. But that sick part of her felt satiated. Like casting corruption magic itched an urge she didn't know she had. And how her body did not belong to herself, just as her magic didn't—was Zelphar in control of her?
Or was it truly her mind, devolving into a dark, twisted creature?
She fell forward, gasping for air. She was released. The haze disappeared, and she was left feeling like she'd never breathed before. When she looked up, she expected to see every soldier dead.
Instead, every soldier was frozen in place. It was as if a time spell had befallen the room, stopping time in its tracks. No one moved, blinked, or breathed. They were as still as statues.
Celvene scrambled to her feet. Had they died?
She didn't have the time to find out, and she didn't know if she wanted to. She needed to escape—to live. Because even if her men had fallen, her kingdom hadn't. And she needed to act fast if she wanted to save them.
She turned, ignoring the slick coating of blood lining the floor. Moving was hard, thanks to her injury, and her hand grew slick with blood as she gripped the wound with desperation. If she could get out of here, maybe she could find Oriel.
All the mirrors around the ballroom had cracked, leaving behind spidered glass. But even in the fractured reflection, Celvene could see one of her eye's sclera was... black. As dark as the night outside.
What?
She shook her head. Whatever had happened to her eye could wait. She could see, and she could act. She ran into the halls, gait unsteady—she needed a plan, and she wasn't going to be able to make one if she was dead.
Outside, a dragon roared.
The hallway she sprinted into was a mess, the carpet ripped and furniture toppled over. Ahead, Celvene recognized the hunched figure collapsed on the ground. She increased her pace, ignoring her legs' screech of protest.
Celvene dropped at Oriel's side. Their artificial leg had extinguished, leaving behind their remaining thigh. It didn't look like they had any other injuries, save for a few scratches and developing bruises, but they were slumped on the ground, breathless.
For a moment, she thought they were dead. "Oriel!"
Their gaze lifted to meet Celvene's. "What happened to your eye?" they asked. Celvene almost laughed at the absurdity of the question. Out of everything that had happened, that was what Oriel questioned.
"I used corruption magic. At least, I think I did. The rune was red, and everyone in the ballroom froze when I cast it," she said. Then she winced—the pain of her wounds returned. "And I was... I was stabbed."
"I suppose my theory was right. But now isn't the time to get into that. If you're truly able to use corruption magic, this could be a fight that ends in our favor." Oriel's gaze dipped to the ground, where blood dotted the floor. Celvene didn't know if it was hers or Oriel's.
They lifted their hands, which adopted a golden glow, and placed it on Celvene's forearm. Though she'd been stabbed in the gut, their spell worked its magic and Celvene felt her skin stitch back up.
"Are you okay? What happened to your leg?" she asked as the pain dulled and the flow of blood stopped. At the moment, she didn't care about jumping into action again—Oriel would need to help her save the castle. Their magic was the kingdom's only hope, not hers.
"What do you think happened?" they snapped.
But a moment later they sighed, placing a hand on their other leg—Celvene noticed it was shaking.
"I'm... I'm sorry. This is immensely painful.
It was all a blur. I didn't catch what happened.
All I know is that one moment I was standing, and the next I wasn't, and my body was screaming at me. "
"How do I... redo it? Can I fix it for you?" she asked. She almost asked if they needed her to carry them, but considering they were much taller than her, she had an inkling that wasn't going to be possible. "Or can you? Do you need me to cover you?"
"No," they said, sucking in air between their teeth. Their hand clenched into a fist. "Nothing can be done right now. Grab my cane, and help me up." They paused. "Please."
If the situation was different, Celvene would have teased their development of manners.
But now, all she did was rush over to their fallen cane.
The serpent's beady eyes stared up at her, its silver tongue peeking out of its mouth.
Before, Celvene had seen its face as one of mockery. Now, it seemed to welcome her.
She picked the cane up and got to work helping Oriel to their feet, though it was difficult, thanks to the fact that they felt twice Celvene's size.
Once they were standing, they looped an arm around Celvene's shoulder.
They leaned their weight on her and with a sigh, they used their cane to steady themselves; Celvene guided them towards the ballroom in momentary silence.
"What exactly is your plan?" she asked. The air was tense. She was dizzy, and right now, her vision was tinted red thanks to the blood covering her. "There are a lot of soldiers in there. And not nearly enough of our own soldiers."
"Corruption magic."
"You can do corruption magic? Since when do you—"
"I don't," said Oriel, and their face pinched, brows furrowing. They drew in a sharp inhale. "I know of the study. I'm not familiar with the spells themselves. But I do know other magic. If we work together, we can drive Noriya out for the night. Even if you don't use corruption magic."
"I don't think I'll be able to. That was... it wasn't me. Something took over my body and made me do it." Celvene shivered. She hated the feeling of losing control. Of her body taking control of itself, without her consent. But it had saved her life.
"Even if it's not you, you're going to need to give it all you got," Oriel said.
"Celvene!" Melantha's voice shouted from behind her, and Celvene almost dropped Oriel from shock.
She wasn't able to turn, but Melantha ran in front of her before she needed to worry.
The girl had a bow and arrow clutched in her hands—when had she learned how to shoot?
Well, a while ago, probably. She was a soldier, after all.
"You're okay!" Melantha's eyes traveled up and down Celvene's figure, and her eyebrows drew close. "I think."
"Good to see you, Mel," she said, weakly smiling. Though it was difficult to move her body, she knew she needed to. She needed to get to the ballroom. She needed to protect Aizasea.
"Did you..." Melantha trailed off, but Celvene knew what she was going to say. And she didn't know the answer.
"I don't know," she admitted, her voice a whisper. "But... if he did pass, I hope it was painless. For your sake."
Melantha inhaled, then angled her gaze to the side. "He would have deserved the pain. I see that now, when I look into the ballroom and see the chaos he has wrought upon your kingdom. All in the name of a power fantasy."
Celvene remained quiet. She could see Melantha was processing something, and she had a feeling the soldier was sorting out her thoughts about Aleksandr's state.
"Honor binds us," Melantha said after a moment, smiling.
sSomething unrecognizable shimmereding from within her eyes.
Something Celvene hadn't seen in years. She rushed forward and embraced Celvene, who returned the hug, her cheeks burning in a blush.
"I do not know what is coming for us, Celvene, but I will stand by your side.
I owe you that much. I know things have been.
.. difficult between us, but now, we must stand united. "
"As one," replied Celvene. Melantha let Celvene lean on her, and some of the pressure was lifted.
Either Melantha hadn't noticed her eye, or she wasn't going to comment on it in the midst of such a situation.
If anything, now they were one in the same with differing eyes.
But in Melantha's case, her vision was worse; Celvene didn't have that going for her—yet.
She breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm glad you're both here. I didn't think I was going to survive."
"Don't hold your breath. We haven't made it out of here yet," said Oriel. "How bad is the ballroom? I don't think they've moved most of the siege out of Aizasea's core. All I could see from my window was a few dragons, and the citizens were fighting back."
"It wasn't good," was all Celvene could say.
Melantha shifted, and more pressure was alleviated on Celvene's end. "I saw it from a few floors up, overlooking the ball. Everyone had... frozen. It was bizarre."
Oriel glanced at Celvene. "Impressive."
Celvene didn't respond. She didn't want to think about what she'd done. She didn't want to think about whether those soldiers were alive or not—because not all of them were from Noriya.
They hobbled into the ballroom, and battle was still raging. Evidently, the corruption magic had not killed everyone. Swords clashed, bullets whizzed, and soldiers fell. Not many Aizasean soldiers were still standing.
Are we too late?
"Don't stand there and gawk, Celvene," said Oriel. They leaned against the ruined stage for balance and their eyes glowed a bright orange, their skin illuminated by a fiery border. "Join me."
"With what?" Celvene asked. She wasn't prepared for this. She didn't know the right magic.
"Complement my magic. Don't work against it."
"Okay," Celvene breathed. She unlooped her bag of runespowder and sprinkled some of the powder into the palm of her hand. She racked her brain for the blood rune she'd cast, but she couldn't remember it.
"Cast the spell!" Oriel yelled.
"I-I can't," Celvene said, breaking into a cold sweat. "I don't know the spell."
"Use whatever you're best at. Unleash all you've got!"
Celvene buried her panic. She was slow and methodical, making sure her rune was drawn quickly and as perfect as it could be.
Every soldier standing was clad in Noriya's armor—none of her own were alive, or at least standing.
They could eviscerate every living soldier. Send a message to Noriya and Zelphar.
That was the corruption magic talking. Celvene didn't know if she wanted that. To be a queen of violence, of fear, and of rage. She could rule with peace and set an example for Fellstride.
But to surrender and have mercy meant to risk her city's safety.
Their future. If these soldiers were not killed here and now, they would return in the future with a vengeance.
There was no saying if Aizasea would be prepared.
And if they weren't, it would spell the end for their city.
Could war be won without death and sacrifice?
"They have to die, Oriel," she said after a moment, her voice cracking. It hurt her heart to admit, but they were trying to hurt her and Aizasea. She needed to protect herself.
Oriel's eyes widened, but they nodded. "I trust your judgment, my queen."
She cast her rune in synchronicity with Oriel.
If the army was truly filled with vampiric soldiers, this was one of the only ways they'd be defeated.
Heat erupted in the middle of the room, and the largest fireball Celvene had ever seen burned.
Its flames were bright, almost blinding.
The fire danced and twisted, highlighted with white and pale yellow against a marmalade canvas. So similar to the sun.
Then it imploded.
Another wave of heat burst out, and Celvene pushed both Melantha and Oriel to the ground before collapsing herself.
She pressed her hands against her head, screwing her eyes shut and praying for survival.
Even if they did not live, they'd be taking out a sizable chunk of Noriya's army.
It would be beneficial for Aizasea in the end—she had confidence that Aleksandr would not rule anymore, even if she died.
But a moment later, she opened her eyes.
The air had chilled. She lifted her head and stifled a gasp.
There were no soldiers left standing; in their place was a fine black powder that whistled with the night's winds, tousled around the ballroom.
When she looked at her hands, the blood coating her skin had vanished.
They'd succeeded, for the most part. But at what cost? Celvene couldn't imagine Zelphar would stay away for long.
And as if on cue, the flapping of draconic wings neared, entering from the broken ceiling.