Sin
The clash of steel echoed, punctuated by guttural screams and the wet, meaty thud of blade meeting flesh. The cries of the wounded blended into a symphony of agony, haunting and relentless.
Horns were blaring outside the castle.
So much for the fae healing.
Three soldiers rammed into her, forcing her to the ground, her back slamming hard against the cold stone. She gasped, her vision blurred, but even as their weight pressed down on her chest, she fought back.
“You won’t make it to him, witch,” a soldier spittled, snarling in her face. “The king’s already broken him.”
Sin’s vision darkens with fury, and she snarled, “I’ll break every last one of you before I let that happen.”
They laughed at her threat, assuming it was empty. Those swords they wielded around her. They were a sort of cage too.
Her fingers twitched, and the swords they raised above her twisted in the air, their own weapons turning against them as if possessed by an unseen force. She watched, almost detached, as their throats were skewered, blood spilling onto her.
Soldiers in green rushed from the west, slamming into the advancing forces.
It was a battlefield within the castle.
The hallway was too narrow for this kind of battle. Bodies piled up, clogging the pathway, and Sin had to duck beneath a swinging sword, her shoulder scraping the stone wall.
A gasp tore from Sin’s throat as she recognized one of the fallen faces.
His greyed hair, now coated with crimson, barely recognizable, strewn about him.
Tears fell down her cheeks, the battle around her a drowning sound, like the pit in her stomach, as she took in the wooden makeshift weapon beside Maurice’s outstretched hand.
“We’re losing ground back here!” one of their soldiers shouted, their voice tinged with panic.
The drowning sound cleared, and the chaos closed in on her.
“Hold the line!” the queen roared back.
The air was thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and the sharp tang of fear. It clung to her skin like a second layer, suffocating and heavy. Still, she could not be stopped. She would not be stopped. Not when every breath she took might be his last.
When this was all over, she’d find Maurice again and give him a proper burial.
The soldiers’ faces were vicious, yet tinged with fear—as if they knew these moments might be their last. Sin could feel her magic, enough to destroy them, enough to kill the king if needed. But if she used it all, she’d be depleted, and they would be defenseless, vulnerable to their enemies.
The minutes dragged on for an eternity. Each slash of her blade felt heavier, each movement took more effort.
Sin’s muscles ached, her arms burned, and her breath came in ragged gasps.
Sweat dripped from her brow, mingling with the blood already staining her face.
Her vision narrowed, and the endless screaming around her began to blur into a single, maddening hum.
The stench of death was overpowering, thick and choking, a blend of burnt flesh, blood, and something almost metallic in its pungency.
Every breath she drew in felt like poison, making her stomach churn.
The air was suffocating, heat rising from the fires along the walls, making the stone corridors feel like an oven.
It was hard to tell if her blurred vision came from exhaustion or the smoke clinging to her senses.
They came to a dead end, the stone walls towering ahead, blocking their advance.
“We can’t stay here. They’ll box us in!” Gideon shouted.
“Then I’ll make us a path,” Sin swore, letting her magic rip through the stone. The pathway opened, but more soldiers appeared from the darkness beyond. She growled, feeling her strength draining. Each opponent she cut down was a small victory, but there were always more.
They were moving too slowly. Every second that passed felt like a lifetime. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, drowning out the clash of battle.
She snarled, fury bubbling up her throat, and her magic surged to life, a raw, dangerous force that she struggled to keep in check.
A blade came out of nowhere, grazing her side. Pain shot through her, hot and immediate, her breath hitching as she stumbled. She could feel her strength waning, every ounce of her willpower fighting to keep her from collapsing right there on the bloody stone floor.
A macabre painting she’d see in her nightmares for some time after this.
Sin spun, her eyes catching the glint of a spear heading straight for her. She ducked. The spear’s wind brushed her hair. Desperate, she rolled across the slick floor, the cold tile against her skin.
Max’s voice came faintly, barely audible amidst the chaos.
Sin, he called, his voice broken. She ignored him, her focus unwavering. He called to her again, but this time it was a desperate, choked plea.
The snap came suddenly—an electric jolt that ripped through her chest, stopping her breath.
It echoed within her as if the world itself had halted.
For a moment, everything seemed to slow—the flash of many blades arcing towards her, her magic crackling in desperate response, her breath held, waiting for the impact that never came.
Then, with a roar of pure fury, time resumed, and the blast of energy erupted from her like a dam breaking, the shockwave ripping soldiers apart.