“No, everyone use your magic," he advises, magic already sparking at the tops of his fingers. My sweet and quiet knight is no longer here, instead he’s replaced by a cold-eyed warrior. I’m just thankful he’s on my side, Gerwyn is a bit scary when he’s battle ready.
I can feel the spirits before I can see them.
The temperature drops at least forty degrees and a buzz of magic flits across my skin that’s definitely not my own. It feels different, almost muted in comparison. Like it’s coming from far away despite how close the icy beings are to us.
A cloud of magic slowly converges on our group, thick in the air and making it hard to breathe or focus. My own magic recedes in its presence and I don’t like the feeling of helplessness it gives me. Even if my magic still works, it will likely not help. I may be stronger than the average Fae, but I’m hardly strong or skilled enough to take on an entire evil, soul army. Not to mention controlling my magic is still an issue, despite Emrick’s best efforts. Real control takes time and that’s something we don’t have unfortunately.
The souls look just as creepy as the first spirits we saw, but these have a crackling electricity flowing through their smoky bodies. They are made mostly of shadows and smoke, with glowing aqua eyes. I can feel the malice and dark energy emanating from them even from a hundred feet away. They’re now coming from both directions and closing in fast.
Closing my eyes, I bring my magic to my hands, relieved when it responds. I lash out with whatever type of magic I can think of. The first row of spirits stagger back at the mixed assault, but they’re angry and ready, bouncing back in two seconds. Somehow the king is controlling them and using their anger as a weapon. The real question is how is he doing it?
Gerwyn is fighting the horde right next to me. His blasts of icy winds join mine, creating a tornado of ice and power. Jacob launches small fireballs at them with impressive accuracy, clearly his training with Andras has paid off.
We’ve gotten through at least ten soldiers when I feel Jacob wavering next to me, his limited magical essence already spent. Knowing he’ll need a moment to recover, I push all of the magic I have at the next wave of souls, trying to knock out the next layer.
As the fight goes on, Jacob loses the battle with his energy. Unfortunately, I can’t stop my assault to catch him as he falls, so I have no choice but to let him collapse onto the floor. If we make it through this, then I can help him. But now I can’t even blink without getting zapped, so I keep my eyes on the battle.
Slowly we carve away at the crowd, spirits popping out of existence the moment we land a powerful attack. The issue is there are so many that it doesn’t seem to matter just yet. My hope is wavering, but I refuse to think about it. If I took even a second to mull this over, I’d lose not only my focus, but my confidence.
Gerwyn and I are a formidable team, our magic working together effortlessly. The spirits however aren’t losing their energy at all, coming at us wave after wave. It’s almost like the king has another source of power to feed off of, which is startling.
Part of me struggles with the idea of snuffing out the spirits. They didn’t deserve what the war did to them, and they certainly don’t deserve to be used by a psychotic former king. But the reality of our situation is that it’s life or death for us and if that means ending spirits, so be it. I just wanted us to make it out of this throne room alive.
“Kill the abominations!” the king yells, his constant jeepers fueling the fight even more. If I could send an attack his way I would, knocking him on his ass would be a major bonus.
My anger fuels my attack now, giving me better focus. Copying Gerwyn’s magic, I force mine to join the icy storm he’s brewing, making the swirling magic even more volatile.
“Stay strong, beautiful," Gerwyn’s voice is strained, but determined. We’re down to only ten spirits left and they aren’t giving up easily. With Jacob already slumped to the ground, I’m losing hope and getting desperate. The king is maniacally laughing at our struggles, believing he has already won. He doesn’t know us though, we'll never stop fighting to get our family back.
In one last ditch effort to save ourselves, I draw all of the power I have left in my body and throw it out with as much force as I can muster. The force knocks back the horde and the king in one blast of energy.
The spirits disappear, the room clearing for a moment before another wave pops into existence. My heart drops at the sight, the new spirits moving closer as I waver on my feet. The hollow feeling in my gut letting me know my magic usage is over… along with our battle.
“Gerwyn. I want you to know that even if we lose this battle, I will find you guys and I will save you somehow. He still needs me to restore his land and will use you as leverage. I won’t stop searching for a way to end this. I will end this," I vow vehemently, turning to him and lowering my hands. I have nothing left to fight with now, except one small dagger.
“I believe you, beautiful," he says simply, pulling me close and kissing me hard. A slow clapping sound interrupts us, but I don’t give him the satisfaction of a reaction. I continue to kiss my knight, pouring every ounce of fear, love, determination, and fight I have into it.
The king makes a noise of shock and protest, but I just flip him my middle finger and continue kissing my knight. He’s just as exhausted, his magic fizzling out in his hands.
I can practically hear the steam flowing from the king’s ears as he fumes over our lack of respect. Frankly, he deserves less than we’ve given, he’s an evil, despicable man who used the dead for his own personal whims.
“Enough of this nonsense, take her to the dungeon!” he bellows imperiously.
“Why do they always have to have a dungeon?” I groan as I stare into Gerwyn’s eyes. He looks every bit as terrified and determined as I feel, but doesn’t respond. In his eyes I can read how he feels. His love for me is humbling, strong and unwavering despite the fear surrounding it at the moment. I try to show him the same. He meant so much to me and I prayed to the Spirits that they’d protect him even if I couldn’t.
The horde closes in on us, t
he hairs on my body standing to attention as the static envelops me. Gerwyn’s violet eyes are the last thing I see before a blast of magic sends me into unconsciousness.
The king may have won this battle, but he would lose the war. My family means everything to me, and I’ll do everything in my power to win them back. The former king of winter, my evil grandfather, better be ready for the reckoning I’m going to rain down on him.
Chapter 7
It’s impossible to tell how much time has passed, but when I finally wake from my forced slumber I’m lying on a cold, hard floor and surrounded by pure darkness. The only thing I can make out is a tiny light emanating from glowing mushrooms that are thriving in the corner of whatever room I was in. Likely a cell in the dungeon knowing my grandfather.
I’m not usually afraid of the dark, but not being able to see in an unknown place is horrifying. It’s silent, but that hardly means anything in Faerie. Though with Winter not being restored, at least I knew some giant rat wasn’t about to feast on my frozen flesh.
My magic is still completely depleted, though I attempt a ball of light anyway. The magic fizzles out without producing more than a small spark and it takes everything in me not to throw up from the effort. My stomach churns angrily and had there been food in it, I’m sure it would have been far worse.