Lucy
Days are blurring. Night turns to day turns to night. Midnight hasn’t returned. But last night Lex snuck in and said Ignatius was running her into the ground.
I’ve lost count of the number of times Ignatius has taken from me. Stolen pieces of my power, pieces of me. The more he takes, the more I seethe, the harder I work on accessing the runes.
I managed to make a hairline crack in the cuffs last night.
It happened shortly after Arcadius came to see what progress Ignatius had made. They got into a disagreement and Ignatius overpowered him. I’ve never seen Father stand up to him. Or at least not successfully. Whatever power he’s taking from me is reshaping his entire existence.
I’ve heard whispers from the dungeon staff who bring me food. The city is changing. Divided. The Societas are swarming outside, ready to back Interitus when she finally comes for me. And the rest of the city seems to be on Ignatius’s side.
Arcadius was not pleased about Ignatius’s gain in favour.
They were at the end of the corridor arguing when Arcadius went to hit him, and Ignatius blocked his swing.
Father outright throttled Arcadius by picking him up off the floor.
I don’t know how he found the strength, let alone got one over on him.
Arcadius swung a knee up and from the sound of the crunch, I’m pretty sure he cracked one of Ignatius’s ribs.
Either way, they both backed away from each other and that was the end of it.
My arms crackle this evening. The glimmering light in the runes glows and hums and stays strong. I am so close.
Ignatius’s footsteps echo down the dungeon corridor. He slides into view and my heart beats in my throat.
The runes thrum deep inside me, and I pray to the gods who will listen that I can stop him this time. He can’t take anymore from me. I stand up, tense and ready for whatever he’s going to do to me.
“Did you hear the good news, daughter?”
I shake my head.
“Arcadius is coming today. Rumour has it, he’s stepping down. He thinks there’s someone better suited to the role of archdevil.”
“Let me guess,” I say, leaning against the damp stone walls. “That someone is you?”
Ignatius feigns shock. “Brava, my love.”
A second set of steps trickle into the corridor. Arcadius. While Ignatius may be full of the ego my power has given him, he flinches at the prospect of the other man’s arrival, no doubt because Arcadius has bestowed enough derision on him over the years, he will always be wary.
“Good afternoon, Chancellor,” Ignatius starts.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Arcadius drawls, his shoulders drawn back and rigid.
“Do you renounce your position?” Ignatius says, and I have to wonder how he’s done this. Surely my power isn’t that effective? Perhaps Ignatius is just that good at removing possibility. But the thrum in my veins kicks harder, a staccato fury, like it’s claiming responsibility.
And when I think about it, Arcadius already is the Chancellor. It’s not like he’s stepped down, and the role is vacant with two people vying for it. At least in that scenario, Ignatius could remove the possibility of the other person getting it.
No, he had to create the possibility of Arcadius stepping down. And demons can’t create anything other than a deal. They remove possibility.
This is definitely my magic. As soon as I have the thought, the runes return to the steady beat I’ve become accustomed to.
“I said, do you renounce your position?”
Arcadius trembles, but not from fear. His entire body ripples with violence. His eyes narrow, teeth grinding against each other.
“You think it’s so easy to rule this realm?” Arcadius sneers.
“I think I’ll keep a tighter control of it than you have. Look at this mess.”
Arcadius throws his head back and booms a laugh out.
“This mess you speak so freely of, is yours, Ignatius. Let’s not forget who lied to the city. Who had to imprison his own daughter because he wasn’t strong enough to take the city from me in the first place.”
“And yet… here I am, taking exactly that. So tell me, Chancellor, whose city is it now? Renounce your position…” It’s not a question.
No matter how it’s phrased, Ignatius isn’t asking.
This will happen. His arm bristles, his flesh brightening almost. It’s not like mine, filled with glowing runes.
Ignatius’s body balloons, swells with the power he’s stolen from me, minus the elegance of the swirl and cut and curve of my runes. His light is ugly and bloated.
Arcadius’s lip curls. He doesn’t want to say it, doesn’t want to relinquish. And he is strong, he’s the archdevil.
But Ignatius isn’t backing down either. A pulse throbs in his neck, the vein glowing a deep red under his flesh.
“Y—” Arcadius starts.
But Ignatius swings his arm out in a vicious punch, his fist a ball of deep red light. Moths swarm around him, filling the corridor as he reshapes his fate and the reality we knew. His fist slams into Arcadius’s chest, severing his words.
Instead, the tiniest gasp escapes the chancellor’s lips.
“Wh—what are you doing?” he says, his voice several octaves higher than I’ve ever heard it.
There’s a crack like glass and crystals.
Arcadius hisses, his eyes clenching shut.
Oh gods, his crystalline heart. That’s what Ignatius is gripping.
“I’m stepping down, you don’t need to do this,” Arcadius says. “Pl—”
Ignatius wrenches his hand from Arcadius’s chest cavity. It makes the most godsawful squelching sound as he pulls it out.
My mouth hangs open. He killed the archdevil. He killed Arcadius.
Black liquid drips on the floor, dark smoke coils around his fist. Arcadius’s eyes widen impossibly far, his mouth forms an O and then he explodes in a puff of moths.
The air swarms, a shriek filling the dungeon as the moths surge in a tornado. Faster and faster they spin until they’re no longer moths but crumbling dust.
My heart slams against my chest. Ignatius has gone too far. He’s lost the plot, delusional with the power he’s stealing from me.
A silence falls over the dungeon corridor.
Deep in my core a line is drawn. He has to be stopped. I have to stop him. The runes roil and roar to life and I realise I always had access to them; I had to want them. To accept them, recognise I can use them for good.
Ignatius brings the blackened crystalline heart up to inspect. He looks at it from several angles, lowers his mouth and swallows it whole.
When he rounds on me, I no longer know who this man is. My father, or what little semblance of him remained has gone.
He’s corrupted himself on the power he’s stolen from me.
It’s infected him. He rips the gate from the hinges and comes for me.
His eyes are the colour of nightmares and murder and coagulated blood.
His features are schooled into a vicious expression that makes me back away even as my runes are powering up.
This ends tonight.
My body takes over.
His gaze is skittish. He’s too confident because he thinks I’m weak and at his mercy.
The cell bursts with light. He recoils but only a step as he lurches towards me.
I grip the manacles with my fingers, they loosen instantly.
I just need him close enough to reach. My arms brighten.
The runes—no, I—grow stronger and stronger.
I focus on the manacles, pouring power into them, shifting their molecular makeup.
Reshaping and remoulding them until they’re demon resistant.
Closer, Ignatius.
Closer.
“What have you done?” I whisper as he is now so close I can smell the acrid stench of Arcadius’s crystalline heart on his breath.
“Nothing can stop me now, I am the Chancellor. This city, you, Finis Academy… it’s all mine. I’ll finally get the recognition I deserve,” he snarls. The warmth in his voice from when I was a child has vanished. In a way, it makes this easier.
He grips my neck, cutting off my oxygen. His jaw disconnects as he lowers his mouth, and light peels off me. The room bursts to life with entropy moths manifesting all over the place.
He’s hurting me. His hands squeezing so tight my vision speckles.
I refuse to black out this time, refuse to quit. He just needs to stay focused on me. I pull one wrist out of the manacle as his eyes close and he sucks power out of me faster. Heat fills my entire body. Screams fill the cell. I’m not sure if they’re mine or his.
Fuck him.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek. The pain grounds me, keeps me conscious as I yank the other wrist out and flick open both restraints.
He throws his head back, lowering his mouth further, as he draws power out of me faster. The pain melts from heat to searing bolts that lance from my toes to my scalp.
My vision fades, grey smattering across my sight.
As my body grows weak, I realise I’m going to fail. I’ve lost my chance.
He knows it, because even though his jaw is distended, I can tell by the glitter in his eyes he’s smiling and revelling in everything he’s stealing from me.
Bastard.
I will not be controlled anymore. He will not take anything else from me. I am done being everyone’s toy.
I wrench forward, smashing my head into his nose.
My forehead blisters from the contact.
He shrieks.
The room goes bright white. I snap the cuffs around his wrist. He wails in frustration.
And all the pain stops.