Chapter 46 Carwynn #2
Panic broke out in hushed voices.
“It can simulate Ancients?” Finley’s question turned demanding. “Loch?”
I managed to wrench my head just enough to glance up.
Lochlainn’s hands gripped the railing. Knuckles bloodless, turning stark white. His golden eyes scanned the space below, wild and darting, as if calculating the level of damage his body would endure from a jump at that height.
The drop would definitely split a man’s skull clean open.
What the hell was going on?
“Lochlainn!” Finley’s voice boomed. He ran up to his side, hauling a leg over the bar readying to jump. “Call it off!”
Lochlainn fisted Finley’s pant leg and swung it back over the ledge. He shook his head, pointing. “The training barrier’s up! It’s impenetrable . . .”
There was a long pause as Finley’s gaze flung back to Lochlainn. “Then call it off!” he yelled.
“I can’t,” Lochlainn said, gravely. He scanned my face, trailing down. “But she’ll be all right.”
Finley’s gaze was serrated as he stared at Lochlainn in disapproval.
Pain bloomed, a burn searing through my veins.
Shit. This wasn’t a training simulation anymore. Whatever this was—whatever monster it conjured—was real.
It was right then I realized—I’d dropped the gun.
Another hot breath swept over my face, along with the wet sound of sniffing.
Some have said it’s better to play dead if large animals attack. So here I was, stiff as a postmortem corpse, letting whatever this was scent me like one of those meat-stick dog treats.
I could feel where its torso was. Each warm growl rumbled its chest, vibrating near my face. Too close for comfort.
Nope. Screw this.
I snapped out of fainting-goat mode. My hands lunged forward, locking around its neck, just beneath the source of the snarl, shoving its now-gnashing teeth away from me.
Could I even strangle it to death?
Fuck. It was ungodly strong. I squeezed with everything I had. The beast thrashed, savagely snapping. Its muscles were solid under my too-soft grip.
Shit! Shit! Shit!
It was too powerful.
My arms began to tremble from the effort.
My organs tangled like vines, twisting with dread, choking. My heartbeat was a racehorse galloping out of my chest cavity.
One second away from getting my face carved up like turkey meat.
Help . . . help me . . .
I didn’t know who I was calling for. I didn’t care. My instincts had taken the wheel and I was desperate, screaming—inwardly, outwardly.
Then, I felt it. That deep, rumble of something primitive, stretching awake. That dark beast within.
Blackness peeled back as tendrils of light swirled up my skin. A soft glow rising like mist, illuminating the space around me. Wisps curled around my arms, spiraled my torso, and wrapped down my legs like an armor spun from moonlight and waterfalls. A Soulsayer phantom unleashed.
In front of me, the beast emerged, massive and snarling. Its fur a matted, greasy gray. Tufts jutted out around its deformed, dog-like ears. Blood-red eyes pierced into mine with hunger as talons scraped the floor like built-in scythes.
What the fuck was—
I remember the taste of Onchu Dog, an eerie voice whispered in my mind. Echoing with laughter, the sound of a spirit’s lullaby.
Onchu dog? What the hell was going on!
Then, a sudden flicker. A shadow darted out from the back wall. So quick, most wouldn’t notice it, except those born from death. It struck the beast at full force, sending it tumbling back several paces with a soul-rattling whine.
Holy shit! A soul did that!
My heart hammered.
Move, now! Move, now! the spirit yelled.
I dove for the gun.
Behind me, another growl. This time, deeper. Made of pure fury. A sound that didn’t belong to this world. Perhaps the pits of hell . . .
“Carwynn, run!”
I didn’t recognize the scream. Finley? Lochlainn? Maybe both. Maybe neither.
I spun toward the back door—and froze.
My power swept over me, prickling every hair on my body to stand up. Not a surge, but a gentle touch. A caress comforting, reassuring. I’m here.
“No.” The word came out foreign and jagged, as if someone else had spoken through me.
Slowly, I turned back toward the beast and watched it rise. Its head lowered with grim purpose, a lethal promise. Its teeth glistening, reflecting the radiating light of my magic.
It was horrifying.
There was another cry from above, but I blocked it out.
One paw crept forward. Calculating. Slow. Predatory.
It was savoring this. The look on its face told me it would relish in the taste of my flesh.
My arms rose up. Right hand melded into the grip of the gun while the left steadied it. Breath syncing, I took aim.
A growl rippled from its throat. Another step closer and a stringy glob of saliva hit the floor with a splat.
“Messed with the wrong bitch,” I seethed.
The creature exploded forward with terrifying speed. All restraint unleashed, red eyes locked. Froth sprayed from the corner of its snapping canines.
My scalp tingled. Every inch of me electrically charged.
Vines blasted from my skin, racing down my arms and wrapping around the gun like living circuits, fusing it to me like an extremity. Magic imbued into it, metal faintly humming with a slight glow.
I squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
The gunshot cracked through the air, a sharp, final sound. An enormous flash cleaved through the darkness, illuminating the entire quadrant in golden light. The bullet blazed, radiating with power as it sliced forward. Unstoppable.
It struck dead center. Burrowing deep between the eyes. The beast collapsed, sliding across the floor mid-charge. Its limbs shuddered.
With one final twitch, it stilled.
A silent glow pulsed at the wound, and from it spread tiny veins of light, thin and winding, like roots penetrating earth. My ability, my magic—taking hold.
I suddenly felt eyes on me. Multiple living souls watching from above. But no sound came. No cheer. No gasps. Just the deafening silence of awe.
From the husk of the creature, tiny stems began to sprout. Small and fragile buds formed, then blossomed.
Poppies. Vibrant, blood-red poppies. Dozens of them unfurled across its back and spine, dotting the body like sprinkled dirt on a grave.
I stared. It was ghastly, strange, and yet . . . unbelievably beautiful.
But then, one by one, the flowers withered, turning to ash.
Boom!
The body ignited, spraying light and smoke in complete obliteration. The whole simulation flickered—then died.
The explosion sent me tumbling back. I landed hard on my backside, arms shielding my face as the blast rocked the ground beneath me. A quake rolled through the entire Snake Pit. Clouds of dust poured from the ceiling, small pebbles raining like hail.
Chaos erupted above. Shouts. Swearing. Hands clung to walls and railings, bracing against the trembling aftermath.
I slowly lowered my arms as the last tremor tapered off. Dust settled around like a quiet haze, revealing the fallout.
I cringed. The floor where the beast once lay was cleaved wide open, charred debris spewed across the grounds. Destroyed. Utterly destroyed.
Reality struck me hard, and my abilities snuffed out.
“How did she do that? That’s not possible!”
“A feckin’ Ancient—Luck be damned!”
Then, a quieter voice, low and honed, sliced through the havoc.
“It’s true then . . . about the prophecy.”
That had my gaze snapping up.
A Luckman at the balcony’s edge looked struck, staring. Not at me, but at Lochlainn. Eyes wide.
The prophecy.
They knew? They knew this whole time?
Every head turned to Lochlainn. He stood taller now, more composed—knuckles having returned to pink.
Our eyes locked. An intense current passed between us, fierce and unspoken.
His face shifted, and for a moment, I saw David—the same rush of relief he used to wear after I’d done something really stupid but surpassed the expected failure. Lochlainn’s expression smoothed into something not anticipated. Pride.
Finley stood off to the side, the color having returned to his face. His eyes trailed over my body, scanning the injuries. But his gaze suddenly launched toward Lochlainn, not awestruck like the others, but livid.
Golden eyes sparked. A slow, marveling grin lit up Lochlainn’s face. He chuckled, then shook his head at me. Deliberate and slow, he began to clap.