Chapter 51 #2
She truly had no idea, no understanding of what Maeve was capable of, or planning.
Mal’s Dread Magic no longer mattered. Sealing Shadow once more was the goal, and then once Mal was safe and free from her possessive enslavement, she’d give him the Dread Magic, his Dread Magic, that ran through her veins.
She’d siphon out the part of him imbued in the Dread Ring on her finger and forge it with Mal’s blood once more.
“So gracious,” said Maeve sourly, groaning as she snapped two more points of hold.
Shadow swallowed hard. “I’ve absorbed the life of countless Dread Magicals, even more power than that Aterna Magic you now have offers you.” Her teeth slid together. “Which makes me question how it is you hold my mind.”
Another claw, embedded deep, shattered.
“It’s taking everything I have,” said Maeve shakily, “but my Shadow Magic is greater than yours. I understand Magic in a way none before me has, since King Primus himself. I see it down to its smallest particle. The way it molds and bends. I see your Shadow Magic, the way it flows and mixes with your stolen Dread Magic. And ironically, I learned it all through you. Through your studies.” Maeve couldn’t help but smirk, her eyes darkening.
“Though you didn’t grasp half the lessons.
But I did. I was always top of the class, wasn’t I, Mal?
” she said, letting her eyes shift to him.
“Second place at best, Sinclair,” he said, his voice breathy with relief as the dirty Magic eating his soul like maggots fell away bit by bit.
Another chain undone. Gods, she was so close.
Her arm shook, her head was heavy, but his tone gave her renewed strength.
Her Aterna Magic helped dull the poisonous effects of being so intertwined with Shadow’s mind, but she still strained to keep a hold on Shadow as the white queen pushed Dread Magic against Maeve’s Aterna.
Shadow shook, paralyzed beneath Maeve’s hold, and the reaction to their Magic fighting for dominance. “I was chosen by the Dread King of old because I was the most powerful Shadow Magical.”
If an artist of their age could have painted a portrait embodying Maeve Sinclair, they would have chosen the moment she said:
“You were the most powerful. Only for the single fact that I hadn’t been born.”
The final claw in Mal’s mind snapped. His eyes darkened with a crack of Magic, and he collapsed, slumping forward in his seat.
Maeve lunged forward as Reeve moved for Mal.
She propelled herself across the table, sliding between Mal and Shadow with a speed unseen by even Shadow’s sharpened senses.
Mordred hollered, bounding towards Reeve, but Reeve understood his task, and no one would keep him from ensuring something entrusted to him as precious as securing Mal was a victory.
In a single slice of Reeve’s fingers, the wolf’s throat slit wide.
His legs buckled beneath him, and when he collapsed to the floor in a moving pool of red, he did not rise again.
With Mal at her back, Maeve’s fist collided with Shadow’s face, propelled by pure hatred as she ripped the Dread Crown from her head.
Negative emotions were indeed required to harness the power of the Dread Stone, and Electric Magic barreled down her arm, faster than it ever had beneath the weight of her animosity.
The hair draped across Maeve’s shoulders lifted, dancing with static.
The burst of lightning that erupted from her was catastrophic, with all three pieces of the Dread Stone at her will.
Arianna’s and Antony’s rings hummed in approval around her neck, working in perfect synchronicity with the one on her finger.
As the blow landed on Shadow, the subsequent explosion burst through the wall of the Throne Room, exposing the hazy green sky as she blew a hole in Castle Morana.
The lightning jetted into the dark clouds, scattering them with bright blue illumination.
Shadow had been thrown from the castle through the now crumbled exterior wall. Smoke settled into the Throne Room as Maeve turned back towards Reeve.
Mal looked so frail in his arms. So gone.
Reeve’s gaze lingered on hers for a moment longer than they had.
“Go,” she said, urgency in her tone, tossing the crown back at him.
Reeve didn’t disobey. He vanished in a swirl of violet fire just as his fingers closed around the silver band of serpents, and Maeve heaved a sigh when she felt both his and Mal’s Magic move to the other side of the barrier.
She stepped across the rubble of the Throne Room, scattered marble and stone smoking, some still crackling with electricity, from the surge of energy.
She reached the edge of the floor, and below was a steep drop down to the unforgiving mountains below. No such fall could kill Shadow, but nor could it kill Maeve.
She stepped off the ledge with grace, falling from the Throne Room of the castle to face her enemy below. Icy particles of air attacked her face in her descent, but the warmth of her Aterna Magic disregarded them completely.
She’d never feel cold again.
Maeve slammed into the earth, a fall that would have broken her in the past. But now, with a body made new from the gods themselves, she landed with a bolt of Magic that felt effortless.
Shadow waited for her with a look of interest, toxic air hovering between them.
She jerked beneath the lingering electric Magic, wounded and down.
Before she could open her vile mouth, Maeve pulled her into her mind at once, a particularly heartfelt moment between Nevian and Shadow ready for viewing.
Shadow froze. Her big blue eyes held a disturbed look, like she was both uncomfortable and entranced.
Maeve’s voice was smooth. “I understand a vow forged in revenge. Especially with what they did to Nevian.”
Shadow’s eyes widened only slightly, her attention locked on the memory before them.
“Though Mal does look like your precious Prince Darius, doesn’t he?” She allowed Shadow a small moment of further shock before continuing. “I’ve seen the memories that linger in your mind. I’ve seen what they did to Nevian while you were forced to watch. And I’ve seen what you did to Darius.”
Shadow smiled, but it was cracked and bleeding with disbelief. “It is but a life that once was.”
“It is the life you were denied. That we have in common,” said Maeve.
Maeve knew the corridor in Vaukore well, where Nevian pressed Judyth against the wall, his fingers trailing through her white hair as he looked down at her in worship.
“There’s many of him,” said Maeve, switching to something even more intimate between Shadow and Nevian.
Shadow’s eyes remained glued on her past self, and the lover she was denied a life with. As Maeve flipped through the back corners of Shadow’s mind like a picture book, they watched every tender memory, and then every tenacious one.
Right up until the moment she watched him bleed out.
And Maeve ensured Shadow felt it all.
She took her time. After all, this was merely a distraction while Abraxas, Eryx, Antony, and the rest evacuated the Dread Lands and Castle Morana without Shadow’s intervention.
“I have more though,” said Maeve, keeping her hold on Shadow’s mind, “because he was the first love you lost, but he wasn’t the last one.”
As their view shifted from Vaukore to Castle Morana, Judyth aged by only a few years, and she glowed with Dread Magic that didn’t belong to her. As she sat to the right of the Dread King, his face blurred since he wasn’t the focus of her thoughts then, her pale eyes were on his middle son.
Prince Darius, who looked strikingly like Mal, stared back at her in silence, but their gaze was loud. Their memories were even louder.
“I spent a lot of time looking at these,” said Maeve. “I think you loved him even more than you did Nevian.”
Shadow watched, her face still struck with horror as Maeve reminded her of her time with a former Prince of the Dread Lands. Of just how wonderful he made her believe she was. Of how badly she wanted to be his.
But she was not his.
She belonged to his father in every meaning of the word.
Stolen glances and moments of weakness were all they shared. Conversations in the library, or quick moments at dinner before the Dread King arrived.
They watched as Prince Darius wed another. They watched as he gave her children. And they watched as Shadow slaughtered them, taking all their Dread Magic for herself.
Time dragged on as Shadow unfolded new memories, ones that had long been locked away, and the two Witches watched even more than Maeve was anticipating.
“In the end,” said Maeve as they viewed her descent into darkness, “you remembered the vow you’d made when they took Nevian from you. You remembered that you’d promised yourself you’d take all the Dread Magic for yourself.”
“Is that pity in your voice?” asked Shadow, her tone low.
“No,” answered Maeve. “I haven’t got any of that for you.
I do not feel sorry for those who inflict their sufferings on others, just as the world has not felt sorry for me in my transgressions.
But there is a difference between us, Judyth,” she said, her voice dropping and Shadow tensing at the use of her given name.
“You were all alone. I was not. The presence of those I care for gave me perspective, a chance to see my mistakes.”
“Is that your way of telling me you intend to be merciful and let me live?”
“I’m not your executioner,” said Maeve as the memories around them faded until they stood in a void.
“You think I can’t feel what’s happening?” asked Shadow. “I can feel the Dread Magic depleting from these lands as all your new allies usher everyone to safety.”
“I’m sure you can,” replied Maeve.
“You’re nearly there,” said Shadow, her voice shifting into something almost excited. “Thank you.”
“What?” snapped Maeve.
“This is the war I always dreamed of.” Her blue eyes landed back on Maeve. She smiled. “We both know those little prophecies are never coming true now. It’ll be you and me. . .two Shadows. After all, no one rewrites reality quite like our blood can.”
“My blood,” argued Maeve. “You’ve never done it like I have.
In one person at a time, sure, you’ve altered minds.
But never like me. I’d wondered why you wanted my spell so badly.
But I understand now that despite the abilities granted to you as a Shadow Magical, you lack the nerve required to pull off a mind wipe. ”
Shadow’s smile fell.
“I hardly blame you, knowing now that the first time I did it, if Reeve hadn’t given me life, I would have died. I still feel the damage I’ve done to my mind, to my Magic, from the countless times I’ve been forced to run from you.”
“And now you face your reaper with a soldier’s determination. Can’t you see how beautiful our battle is?
Time to let go.
Reeve’s signal slid into her mind, a silent thought propelled through their bond, just for her.
Maeve released her hold on Shadow’s mind, and together they plummeted back to reality.
A warm, suffocating sensation wrapped her lungs as she passed through the barrier line of Aterna Magic.
When she opened her eyes, the barrier separated her and Shadow at the center of the Black Deep.
With solid ice beneath their feet, Reeve stood at Maeve’s side, having just deposited them both on either side.
Shadow let out a small sound. “Always so clever.” She reached forward, still reeling from Maeve’s attack, one long, gaunt finger trailing against the wafting line of Magic.
Black essence, dirty and contaminated Magic, shot up and out, towering above her, sticking to the barrier like slime.
It dripped down, slowly streaking the barrier.
Shadow tapped the barrier between them three more times. It rippled beneath her touch, and Maeve felt the change in her Magic then. She was drawing Dread Magic into herself. The scattered and roaming Dreaded Dead behind her collapsed, becoming nothing more than lifeless bodies once more.
She’s taking back the Dread Magic she necromanced the Dreaded Dead with, said Maeve into Reeve’s mind.
Reeve didn’t reply.
Dark swirls of Magic encompassed Shadow’s pale frame, and she disappeared on the wind.
“How long will that take her?” asked Maeve, finally tearing her eyes away from where Shadow had been.
Her eyes landed on Reeve at last. The blood on his face was already dried, mixed with sweat and dirt that glistened across his skin. A massive tear across his chest, which was slowly cauterizing itself, stained his front.
“Be a doll, will you?” he said with the cigarette between his lips.
Maeve’s eyes narrowed, and her mouth fell open.
“Lecture-free,” he added.
She snapped her fingers, and the tip ignited. Reeve held it between his tattooed fingers and inhaled deeply. His shoulders dropped at once. Another drag, and his eyes closed.
“Is that a cigarette?” she asked finally, in disbelief.
Reeve exhaled the toxic smoke. “I believe I said lecture-free.” He enjoyed his cigarette another moment. “Small thing,” he said, gesturing to the wound encompassing half his torso. “I’m healing at a fraction of the time I would have in the past. Not half.”
“I never said I gave you half of the Aterna Magic,” Maeve replied plainly.
Everything stilled. Maeve’s head tilted as Reeve’s jaw fell open, the cigarette lazily between his fingers.
“You didn’t think you would be my equal, did you?” asked Maeve. “I had to tip the scales somehow.”
Reeve took another drag and grinned. “Cruel little kitten.”
“I did what was necessary to win this war and to keep you. We couldn’t both share second place and turn the tide.”
“Deceived by my own woman once again,” he said.
“You couldn’t feel it?”
“When you yield that much power, it is—”
“Incalculable,” she finished for him. “Yes. I know.”
Reeve’s cigarette vanished, as if it had never existed. He lowered his chin. “So you think you are in first place now?”
Maeve allowed herself a small smirk. “I have, without a doubt, surpassed you.”