I release the bond and stumble upright. His words repeat over and over in my head.
Run! They’re coming.
The fear in his voice is enough to convince me to run. But where? I don’t even know where I am.
There’s a small bag on the table, and I grab it and start shoving supplies inside: a blanket, dried food, and a canteen. Even with no idea where to go, any direction is better than staying here.
I only take three steps onto the front porch before bouncing against the ward.Shit, I forgot Mikal said it was only keyed to the five of them. If I stay here and Niethal comes, I’ll be trapped inside the cabin. It would only be a matter of time before he opened the ward, possibly by compelling Isiah or the others to open it. No, I refuse to be stuck in here.
My hand brushes against the ward and it shimmers under my touch, but it doesn’t fracture as it did for Mikal. Magic thrums under my skin, and I have an idea. It will either open the ward or incinerate everything inside.
Fire coats my hand as I push my palm against the ward, but instead of bouncing off as it did before, my hand melts into it. Flames pulse inside, and every fissure and fracture my fire creates sends vibrations up my arm until the ward finally ruptures. It’s as if the air itself catches fire and disintegrates, leaving nothing but shimmering ash to float to the ground.
I wave my hand, searching for any remaining ward, but find nothing but open air. With the backpack slung over my shoulder, I take one step before halting. Where am I even going? I could go deeper into the woods, and what? Hide? For how long? If Niethal has Isiah and the others, who will find and help me? Who will save them?
The bag drops to the ground with a soft thud, and I hike back through the woods toward the castle.
I won’t leave Isiah to Niethal, not if I can help him.
The sky is pitch-black, and without the moon to light the way, I stumble over tree roots and branches, nearly falling a handful of times. But soon, the woods thin, and I step out onto the road. In the distance, a faint glimmer of what must still be fires burn on the castle parapets. The dirt road becomes cobblestone, and an eerie silence hangs over the city. No one is on the street. And no one stops me as I wind my way up the road to the castle. Everyone must have the good sense to stay inside and remain unseen.
As I near the main gate, my steps falter.
With the deaths of Devlin, that male in Grager, and now the threats against the people I care for, I find the human part of myself slipping away. It’s a blurry line between right and wrong, good and evil, but for those important to me, for Isiah and my parents, I’m willing to cross it. If Niethal wants to be a villain in my story, I will become a monster in his.
My feet move up the hill once more.
The first guard to cross my path wears the purple and gold of Selen. He runs from the guard station toward the castle, likely to notify Niethal of my arrival.
Good.
My magic rises to the surface, licking at my fingertips in anticipation.
Three guards exit the castle and stalk toward me, hands on the pommels of their swords, and I smile. Just let them try to stop me. As they draw their swords, I lift my hand and allow my magic to ignite.
Fire erupts from my palm and engulfs the three guards. Their screams of agony only embolden me. I step over the flailing guards and stride into the castle.
The grand foyer overflows with a dozen Selen guards with swords drawn. Flames wrap around me, and alarmed shouts ring out as the rug under my feet catches fire, threatening to burn those standing nearby.
One guard reaches through the fire to grab my arm—his own covered in ice—and I allow it. The coolness of his magic is a sharp contrast to my own. Heat surges from my core, and the male screams and yanks his now-blistered hand back as my amber-colored flames blaze a brilliant white.
The surrounding guards glance at each other, unsure what to do next, so I tell them, “Run.”
Three seconds is all they get before I explode.
The heat from my flames is so intense, the air sizzles. The guards’ screams burn away in their throats before they drop at once.
“Impressive, my dear. What a little motivation will do to unleash your potential.”
My magic flares at the sight of Niethal leaning on the frame of the archway. I throw flames at him, but he vanishes into shifting shadows and reappears across the room on the bottom step of the staircase.
He frowns at the writhing guards before stepping over them like a child walking over discarded toys. “Come, we have much to discuss.”
Reagan appears in the archway with a slight frown.
I stand still, fire licking at my skin. “Where is he?”
Niethal’s lips press together. “He and his friends live for now. The rest depends upon you.”