Chapter 33
Vivian’s Point of View
Rule thirty-three: Burn. It. Down.
This is… a lot of people.
I take in their expectant faces, trying to hide my own sense of incredulous disbelief.
I’m sure there are at least some prisoners who have battle experience. And yet here they are, waiting for me – a slightly depressed trainwreck with no tactical training – to lead a siege. These people seriously need to reevaluate their judgment.
‘Protect the weak. Ensure a strong front,’ Cassandra’s memory orders.
Her authoritative tone helps to loosen the pressure on my lungs, and I manage a deep inhale. At least I have my assassin alter ego on standby.
It’s probably not enough, but I guess I’ll just fake it till I make it – or die trying.
Probably both.
“Anyone too weak to fight should move to the bottom of the prison. The strongest magic wielders will take the front. Magic users, focus on clearing a path and taking out Council mages. Non-magic users, the guards are your priority. Anyone who doesn’t resist should be taken as a prisoner, until we can figure out where their loyalties lie,” I call out.
Somber nods ripple through the crowd, and nervous anticipation rattles around the hollow void in my chest.
Swallowing thickly, I add, “Finally, can anyone here apparate to the Shadow Realm without losing consciousness?”
I’m assuming Morgana has a few spies or allies that ended up imprisoned.
“Aye,” someone calls from a few levels above.
He raises his hand to get my attention, and I’m amazed he manages it. He’s so emaciated that I’m worried he might crumble if he tries to fight. But when his sunken eyes find mine, he inclines his head with a quiet defiance and braces his arms behind his back.
The meaning is clear. He’s going to help, no matter how frail he looks.
I give him a thankful nod.
“I can go as well,” another voice echoes.
Looking further up, I spot a woman about halfway up the cavern. She doesn’t look like she’s in much better shape, but like the other man, she stands with an air of confidence.
“Thank you,” I tell them, even as I try to convince myself that they aren’t about to keel over. “Once you see a clear path, I need both of you to try and get outside the wards. Apparate to the Shadow Realm and find Sin.”
Both volunteers nod, and the man quirks a brow. The gesture is so familiar, it makes my chest tighten.
It’s the same thing Sin does.
“What would you like us to tell him?” He asks.
I pause to look at the hundreds of warriors who are ready to go to war with me.
“Tell him I’m coming home.” Figuring it’s now or never, I steel myself before yelling, “It’s time to reclaim our freedom!”
Some prisoners thump a fist to their heart, and others give me nods of approval. Then, an eerie calm settles over the room as everyone moves into position.
There’s no shouting or pushing – just quiet, focused violence waiting to be unleashed.
I’m both terrified and impressed by the efficiency. And even though I’m probably the least qualified person here, I make my way up the path, intent on taking the lead.
The prisoners give me a wide berth, casting nervous glances my way. Whether their concern is due to the massive three-headed dog trailing behind me or the creepy child who’s unfortunately walking alongside me, I can’t be certain.
My money’s on the kid – everyone likes puppies.
Clotho’s pale blue robes drag against the stone path, and from this angle, it’s easy to forget she’s an ancient being.
I clear my throat. “Thank you, by the way, for giving me the ability to speak to crowds.”
“I lied. I did no such thing,” she scoffs without bothering to look at me.
My jaw drops. “You what–”
I’m interrupted when a man jogs up to my other side. It’s the chatty prisoner from the cell across mine.
“You couldn’t have mentioned the whole ‘all-powerful’ thing a little earlier?” His eyes sparkle with mirth, and he falls into step beside me as he continues, “Now I feel like a jerk for telling you that you had no choice.”
Despite the playfulness in his tone, there’s something dangerous about the way he moves. Like most prisoners, his clothes have been reduced to rags, and his face is gaunt from starvation, but even now, he seems deadly.
Craning my neck to meet his amber stare, I decide to be honest. “I didn’t know.”
His lips twitch, but as he takes a breath, his easygoing expression turns intense. His pupils dilate, and his body tenses, but it’s shuttered away less than a second later.
Before I can ask if he’s okay, he smiles like nothing just happened and says, “Fair enough. My name’s Varian, by the way.”
He doesn’t hold out a hand or anything, so I simply respond with, “Vivian.”
His grin sharpens. “Yeah, I heard. I also heard that Need has an uncollared Destroyer. Want to tell me how you’re going to stop him from barbequing us the moment we leave the wards?”
It’s a good question, and I’m relieved at least one person isn’t following me blindly.
A slow smile spreads across my face. “I plan on killing him before that becomes an issue.”
Do I know how to kill a Destroyer?
Absolutely not.
But I’m hoping the magically binding cuffs I tied to my dress will help. If anything, at least they can hold him until Sin arrives.
Once we reach the door, I wait until the last prisoner has fallen into position before resting my hand on the handle. It’s cold to the touch, and hums with something that feels dark and angry.
An involuntary shudder passes through me. Someone put a lot of work into making sure the wards kept us locked in.
But the moment my power trickles over the metal, I grin. It’s almost too easy to unravel the threads, and after a brief flare of silver light, the door blasts off its hinges.
Stepping into the small room beyond, I find a handful of guards lounging at a table.
They turn toward us and only have a chance to look startled before absolute chaos breaks out.
Prisoners surge through the doorway, and magic blasts against marble walls. The guards are dead before they even have a chance to yell for help.
The tide of prisoners spills into the corridor, and I follow them, leaving the guard’s weapons for the prisoners who can’t use magic.
Not breaking my stride, I call on my Reaper power and activate my loaner-scythe. A moment later, a weight settles in my hands as the vicious-looking blade appears.
We tear down the corridor and storm into an armory. It’s already teeming with guards, and I’m assuming they heard the blasts.
They scramble for their weapons, as panicked shouts echo through connecting halls. Quickly realizing they’re outnumbered, they scatter in all directions, only for their retreating footfalls to be replaced by dying screams as we run them down.
Before long, freed prisoners are streaming through every connecting hall, taking more of the castle.
I tear down a corridor, trying to get my bearings. Up ahead, it splits off into four directions, but when nothing looks familiar, I sprint after the sounds of metal clashing.
Rounding a corner, I nearly collide with a guard. His helmet is gone, and blood trickles from a cut above his brow.
Recognition flares in his eyes, and a cruel grin spreads across his face. “Oh, I am definitely getting promoted for cutting you down,” he snarls before charging at me.
I lift my scythe to meet his sword, but before we connect, a scorching fireball shoots past my ear and slams into him. The guard flies backward, screaming as the flames engulf him. Whirling around, I find Varian swaggering up the hall, smirking.
“I can fight!” I yell, as another explosion somewhere ahead shakes the corridor. I run to follow it.
Varian jogs at my side, and his curious gaze locks on my scythe before quickly scanning my body. A slow, appreciative grin spreads across his face. “I’m sure you can. But you’re also the chosen one, and that means–” another guard appears and he casually blasts him, “you need to be protected.”
I’m forced to skid to a stop to avoid colliding with the flaming body. Before I can skirt around Varian, he backs up a step and waves me forward with all the flourish of a Victorian gentleman.
He gives me the same playful grin, and it feels jarring, considering the circumstances.
I frown back. “Worry about yourself.”
My words are met with a deep laugh, and I roll my eyes. Varian doesn’t leave my side.
By the time we reach the main hall, total pandemonium has broken out. Prisoners and guards fight all around us, but my focus jumps to the handful of men wearing purple cloaks – Council mages.
“The mages, Varian! Take down the mages!” I yell as I run into the fray.
I head for the area where the fighting is thickest, letting Cassandra’s memories guide me as I cut through a sea of armor. The floors are slick from blood, but I push forward, aiming for a mage not far ahead. Magic sparks against his cloak as another prisoner unsuccessfully tries to attack him.
The mage gives a sinister smile before raising a hand. Invisible magic pulses, and the prisoner is blasted into a marble column.
“Hey, you, Merlin cosplay!” I yell, trying to distract him before he can do more damage.
The mage’s hood falls from his head as he turns toward me, and his eyes widen like he’s seen a ghost.
He’s staring at my scythe.
“No…” he starts, staggering a step back. “It cannot be. I must alert Need.”
He darts toward the door, joining the crush of soldiers that are now scrambling to flee.
I chase after him, wondering why everyone is suddenly trying to get outside. But my confusion only lasts a second before I notice the heat that’s starting to envelop the room.
Guards look over their shoulders at something behind me as they scream in terror. A deafening roar shakes the floor, and I turn just in time to see why they’re running.
A massive black dragon stands in the center of the hall. It fills half the room, and its onyx scales glow faintly orange as it exhales a stream of fire at the escaping guards.