Chapter 39 #2
Sachia threw herself back to the floor at her brother’s side, her hands shaking as she ran them over him. Members of her crew surrounded her, some of them speaking to her, but she snarled, “I won’t leave him! I won’t.”
One of the men with curly black hair looked at Reid, his tender brown eyes wet. He picked up the keys and handed them to Reid. “Go. We’ll meet you at the cliff entrance.”
Reid gave a solemn nod. “Be safe, Joná?.”
Vaasa did her best to stay focused, to stay the course. “This way,” she said, weaving her fingers through Reid’s and forcing her legs to carry her down the hall. They were headed to the fifth floor when the sound of pealing bells filled the air. “Shit,” Vaasa cursed.
“What is that?” Reid asked.
“A distress signal. Any guard left on this island will know the prison has been breached.” They were going to have to fight their way out.
Vaasa sprinted to Amalie’s cell. Hands snaked out of the bars like the curling legs of a spider, and Vaasa knew whatever she faced was not Amalie.
Vaasa looked inside and found eyes white as snow staring back at her.
“Veragi,” Vaasa breathed.
The goddess nodded.
Vaasa fumbled with the keys again, putting one into the lock. It didn’t work. Neither did the next one. Or the next. Vaasa couldn’t breathe. Roman might not have even had the key to Amalie’s cell, maybe he’d never been able to—
The lock clicked.
Her heart sank. He’d had the key all along.
He could have let her or Amalie go at any point, and time and again, he’d chosen not to.
Vaasa ripped the door open. Amalie’s body stood there, the chains around her wrists and neck tarnished.
She was well cared for, but the iron manacles on her wrists looked rusted.
“Fuck,” Reid whispered from behind Vaasa.
Veragi stepped forward like she had all the strength in the world. “Help me get these off of her,” Vaasa demanded as she started pulling at the chains.
Without hesitation, Reid lifted his sword. “Move.”
Vaasa scuttled back as Veragi spread her wrists as far as they could go. Reid swung down, his sword cracking against the chains, and the tarnished links fractured. They slid to the floor.
Darkness burst forth from Amalie’s body, tendrils of magic licking the air in angry snaps.
Reid jumped out of the way as a miserable keening broke from Amalie’s throat.
The glowing white of her eyes grew brighter, and Vaasa lifted her arm to cover her vision.
In seconds, it was over, and Vaasa stared at her best friend.
Only it wasn’t her best friend. It was wild, white eyes. There was no trace of Amalie staring back at her.
“Is she alive?” Vaasa whispered.
Veragi met Vaasa’s gaze and gave a strong nod. “I would not kill her.” The goddess’s voice threaded the air, a dark and powerful Icrurian that reminded Vaasa of Melisina.
“We need to go,” Reid urged as the door on the other side of the hallway was thrown open.
Three guards sprinted toward them. Veragi’s head whipped their way.
Vaasa startled. She looked nothing like Amalie.
Gone was the kindness, the warmth, the care.
All that remained were harsh lines and malice that caused even Vaasa to step back.
Veragi lifted her arms with grace and squeezed her hands.
Magic flew through the air, whizzing toward the guards, solidifying into sharp points just before it made contact. Those edges pierced their chests.
Their bodies halted and sank to the floor.
The magic disintegrated into black smoke, wisping out from the dead guards like steam off tea.
Vaasa stared at Veragi, and all she could think of was Julianna.
“This way,” Reid said, clutching Vaasa’s hand and running back to the stairwell entrance, neither of them having the time necessary to ruminate on what they’d just seen.
She held tight to Reid’s hand, and they fled back down the stairwell and out the same door they had taken to enter, sprinting down slippery steps with as much skill as they could manage.
Snow fell from the dark sky, cold drops of it splashing off Vaasa’s cheeks.
She looked over her shoulder to see Veragi following, body uninhibited by the weeks in this prison, by the things that had been done to her, by the cold.
Sachia and the rest of her crew were pressed to the cliffside, staring down at the ladder they had used to climb up. “Shit,” Reid growled, looking down at the space below the bridge. It was littered with lamplights. Guards swarmed the ladder, at least fifteen, too many for them to fight.
“This way,” Vaasa yelled, trailing the perimeter of the cliff until they landed on a pathway that led to the Last Crossing.
If they could get across the bridge and take one of the boats on the other side, they could get out.
They’d have to fight their way through, but there were likely fewer guards on the administrative side of the island, all of them having run into the prison with the pealing of the bells.
In the distance, fire still raged along the Mekes coastline, flames lighting the black sky.
Footsteps pounded behind them, the sound of Asteryan commands blaring through the snow as guards chased them onto the bridge. Sachia and her crew swarmed behind them—
Vaasa’s stomach turned over on itself, and suddenly, fire erupted within her.
She screamed.
Her knees cracked against the ground. Magic tore from her very bones.
The world flipped and scorched her from the inside.
Reid howled her name, his hands wrapping around her waist and trying to pull her up as the guards closed in on them.
Vaasa couldn’t get up. It was the most excruciating the magic had been since the very first moment she’d bargained it away, her muscles torn and her body ripped apart in defiance of the force being stolen from her.
Vaasa wailed again, fisting her hands in her hair as agony eliminated all other things from her mind.
A splitting crack boomed from the left, and Vaasa gasped, falling onto her hands despite Reid’s grip.
“Going somewhere, Vaasalisa?” came Zetyr’s ancient voice.