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The road I’m on is harder and longer, but hopefully, I can make it.
My men circle, growling at the Blood Mage, but they’re smart enough not to attack his shield, having realized that doing so will only bring them pain. I want to tell them to go. To leave me to deal with this man, because I’m afraid he’ll turn his magic onto them, but he seems not to care the least bit about my wolves.
His attacks grow faster and stronger. The wall behind me is gone. The room beyond that is a burning mass of furniture. I’m breathing hard. My body is shaking. I switch up my attack, slinging silver magic at the man, trying to throw him off his game, or make him drop his shield while he defends against me, but nothing seems to be working.
What were you thinking? You barely understand this magic. You barely know what you’re doing. Did you really think you could defeat him?
“I remember you,” he says slowly, almost as if realization is hitting him. “You were so cocky when we first strapped you down to that bed, swearing you’d never beg, swearing you’d never scream. But you did, didn’t you? Before too long, you were screaming like the rest of them.”
My throat feels tight. I study him, trying to remember those dark days. There was so much pain. So many knives, shots, and even IVs when they were experimenting on us. The faces of my captors faded away under their instruments of torture. They became sources of pain, and not people, but is this man familiar? Do I recognize his face?
His magic hits me, and the air knocks from my lungs as I go flying back. I hit the ground on the floor of the room behind me and wheeze in breaths. My ribs feel like they’re cracked. My body feels like it’s been electrocuted and beaten to a pulp all at once.
I roll to my side and nearly throw up. My head is still spinning when I make it to my knees. I try to get to my feet, but fall every time I try. I need to get up. I need to fight.
“Asha!” My brother’s terrified voice makes me look in his direction. Everything is swimming, but I can see the Blood Mage coming toward me, stalking past my brother. There are holes in his magical shield. The edges shimmer around him, bright spaces in the air.
He lifts a hand toward me, a grin slipping over his lips.
Braxton leaps at him, somehow making it through one of the holes. His teeth bite into the flesh of the Blood Mage’s hand, and he screams. His free hand glows with dark magic, and he pounds his fist into Braxton. Braxton falls limp at his feet, and the Blood Mage steps over him.
I rise to my feet. My brother. Max. Braxton. Orson. My pack. My home.
It’s hard to drag in a full breath, but I feel my magic coursing through me. I throw a ball of silver light at the mage, but he lifts his bloody hand and darkness quenches the light. There’s barely a second to think when another ball of darkness hits me, and I slam back.
I can’t do this. I can’t get up. Everything hurts. I taste blood.
The Blood Mage shouts. Max and Orson are there biting through the holes in his shield. He screams as Max clamps down on his side, but the Blood Mage’s fist pounds into him, knocking the wolf onto the ground. Orson is struck by a ball of black light, flies back, and lies crumpled against the wall.
They look like they’re breathing. But none of my men get up.
I struggle to my feet as the Blood Mage looms closer. Behind him, Simon steps out of the safety of the contraption holding the dark orb. His fist glows a light blue that’s just a few shades darker than my silver light. I want to tell him to stop. To run. But I can’t find the strength.
He lifts his hand and pale blue magic strikes the Blood Mage. The Blood Mage falls to his knees, then rises again, dark shadows swimming around him. Fury twists his face, and he slowly turns to face my brother.
I tap into my magic and reach my hand out. My brother. Max. Braxton. Orson. My pack. My home. This is all for them. When this is done, we’ll be free.
My magic strikes like a ruthless river of magic, weaving with Simon’s. Our magic joins together in a blinding flash of lightning that casts the mage against the wall. His body breaks against the bricks with an unsettling cracking sound, and then he slumps in the mess of wires on the floor.
He’s not so powerful without his magic.
This time, he doesn’t get up, but my men slowly do. They limp toward him, and Simon and I draw closer. The wolves, wary of one final attack, crowd around the mage and bare their teeth. Simon and I approach to confirm our kill. The Blood Mage’s eyes flutter. I hear the arrhythmic drumbeat of his waning heart.
“All…I ever wanted…” he rasps, “was to create something…stronger than me. Something…the world has never seen.”
“And slap a collar on it,” Simon spits, looking tired but strong.
The mage grins, but his expression sours quickly. Blood seeps from the corner of his mouth. “Your…worthless pack spoiled it.”
“You’re the one who’s worthless,” Simon corrects before dealing his captor a killing blow. A bolt of bright blue magic fires into the sadist’s skull. It cooks his brain, the rancid odor spilling from his ears with gray smoke.
Is it really… over?
A strange sound like an overloaded laundry machine sounds, and the room begins to shake. I look down at the mage, wondering if he’s doing this, and then turn to look at the machine. Somewhere during the fight, we’d broken several of the metal things surrounding the black orb. It was on its side in the air, shaking, shrinking and expanding.
“That can’t be good.”
Simon looks back at the machine and the magic suspended between the pincers. “We have to destroy it,” he says softly. “It’s the only way to stop the dark magic from pouring into this world. If we destroy it, we’ll all be free from its pull.”
