Chapter Twenty-Nine #2
Outside the veil, Adamaris rises from the ground with eerie composure as Rhune and Sorryn dance around the room. Her hands move with grace, her expression calm, but her voice slices through the air.
“Take him down.”
Enari moves, her gaze locked on Rhune, and I see it—the horror in her eyes and her desperation.
She lifts her arm, and from her palm a stream of flame ignites. It flickers once, then roars like a beast toward its target.
The fire is wild, untamed, twisting into a serpentine column that surges across the room, aimed directly at Rhune. His shadows leap to intercept it, absorbing the flames in a cascade of dark smoke. The moment it takes for him to contain the fire is the same moment Sorryn uses to strike.
He charges through the smoke, light blazing in one hand, his expression sharpened by rage and the thrill of having the advantage. Rhune’s head snaps in his direction just in time to leap backward with the slash of Sorryn’s weapon driving toward his chest.
My hands tremble where they press against Serenath’s arm.
“Enari,” I whisper, watching as another ribbon of fire spills from her hands. “Please stop. Please break the control.”
She rushes toward him, opposite Sorryn, and they attempt to box him in.
It becomes instantly clear that Rhune won’t strike her. That truth lodges itself inside me as he only dodges her, never sending counterattacks her way unlike Sorryn. Because she’s not the true enemy and she’s being used.
Adamaris knows exactly what she’s doing: weaponizing his heart against him.
My vision blurs with smoke as another wave of fire collides with Rhune’s defenses, his shadows buckling briefly under the pressure. Sorryn doesn’t relent. He drives forward, using the distraction to push harder, his blast of magic now finding its target.
“Rhune!” I shout, letting go of Serenath and banging my palms against the shadowed barricade. My eyes burn with tears as I strike over and over, but they don’t relent.
Rhune staggers as another burst of light slams into his side.
I see the moment his balance falters, the moment his shadows no longer rise fast enough to block the next strike.
Sorryn’s blade grazes his ribs and Rhune hits the floor with a choked gasp, blood blooming in sharp contrast against the silver of his tunic.
“No,” I breathe out, my voice cracking.
My view is obstructed as Adamaris steps into view, blocking my sight of Rhune struggling to stand back up.
My hands shake as I reach for Serenath again, trying to shield her with what little strength I have, as if my body could somehow make up for the fact that I can’t stop any of this.
Why couldn’t this have happened after I was blessed by the Goddess? When I actually have magic to help. Why now when I’m helpless to watch innocent people used and broken?
Adamaris steps closer, fingers wrapped around an artifact, its glow pulsing in time with the flicker in Enari’s veins. She raises it, her lips parting as she begins to murmur something I don’t understand.
Light surges toward me and Serenath, and I throw myself over her as if I could make a difference. The light hits the shadows around us in a hiss of burning energy, and I don’t scream, but I feel the heat bite across my shoulders.
I glance up quickly, finding our shadowed barricade gone, likely burned away by whatever artifact Adamaris wields.
Rhune lets out a roar that shakes the room, his magic snapping outward in a sudden burst that drives Sorryn back a step. Shadows lash from the floor like whips, crashing into stone and slicing into Sorryn’s legs just before he can get out of range. Still, they don’t touch Enari.
I quickly thread my arms under Serenath’s, tears slipping quietly down my cheeks as I attempt to drag her away from Adamaris’s advance. The battle rages and I’m left to retreat, weak and useless.
They keep saying there’s power inside me and that I carry something rare, but what use is that if I can’t reach it? What if all I can do is watch?
The walls of the dining hall blur through a haze of smoke and heat. I can barely hear Serenath’s voice, broken and soft beneath me.
“Run,” Serenath rasps again, voice brittle and fraying.
“I can’t,” I whisper back, breath shaking. “I can’t leave you. I can’t watch more people I care about die.”
“You must,” she says, sharper now despite the blood drying at the corner of her mouth. “We cannot afford to lose you. Listen to me, Elysia, there’s a dagger. My ankle. Left side.”
My hands tremble as I lower her to the ground and reach beneath the folds of her torn robe. My fingers close around the hilt, cool and small, and I pull it free.
Serenath’s eyes flutter open again, pain cutting through the edge of her urgency. “Take it. Use it. Get out.”
Instead of running, I rise. My breath steadies, if only barely. The blade stays in my grip, but I step toward Adamaris, placing myself between her and Serenath.
Serenath snarls behind me, the sound wet with blood. “What are you doing?”
“I’m tired of running,” I say softly.
Adamaris tilts her head, eyes glinting with amusement.
“What,” she croons, the word dripping with mockery, “you think you can stop me with that toothpick?”
I tighten my grip on the dagger. “Yes,” I murmur, and then slowly lift the blade, not toward her, but to my own chest just as Sorryn had. “I think my life is what you all value most.”
The blade presses just beneath my collarbone, angled toward my heart.
“And I will wield whatever I can.”