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“That’s right, you son of a bitch,” I hissed, so full of righteous fury, I could feel my magic begin to crackle internally. “I contained that stupid curse of yours.”
It shouldn’t have been so satisfying to see the shock play out against his cursed features, but it was. Oh, how it was. The creature in front of me was responsible for most of the tragedies in my life. For over two decades, he had been gleefully delighting in all the pain and mayhem he had caused me, and for what? I was just a random orphan. None of it made any sense.
So, yes, I enjoyed his shock, and I was also going to enjoy beating the absolute shit out of him.
Once I figured out how to do that.
This time, I summoned as much energy as I could to my hand in just a few seconds and then slammed my fist right into him. It didn’t make the distinctive crack of a nose crunching beneath my knuckles, yet there was still a collision. He stumbled back, his form seeming more corporeal than ever before.
Like a pugilist, I advanced on him, throwing punch after punch with all the magic I could imbued into my fists. I poured out the anguish I had from hurting those around me. I poured out my rage at all the experiences I’d lost because I’d been forced to isolate myself in order to protect others. I poured out the injustice of it all, the heartache, the confusion, and I willed him to feel every ounce of pain he had caused me.
It was a cathartic experience, and I relished every single flinch, every iota of pain I could interpret in his strange features. But I got too lost in it, and I didn’t quite realize until he caught my fist with his own icy grip.
“You think you can stop me?” he hissed in a voice that was so alien, it made my stomach turn with every syllable. “Better, stronger men than you have tried. You are nothing. Just a lost little girl playing superhero. I’ll kill you, just like I killed your father, and just like I eventually killed that bitch of a woman who refused to preserve her blessing with me.”
That was far too many revelations all at once, and I faltered. My father? What woman did he…
Oh.
Oh!
He couldn’t mean the first witch Tomas had told us about, could he? No! Surely if I were really related to some ancient and powerful witch, then someone would have told me. Right? Right?!
…how could no one have told me?
“Do you want to goad me into some tailspin by boasting you killed my father?” I laughed in his face, pulling my punch out of his grip just to send a blast of magic in his face that, once again, pushed him farther back. “I don’t even know who he is. I’ve never known who he is thanks to you. Just another ghost I’ve never been connected to.”
It was like the Shriek had lost all of his connection to humanity and couldn’t have anticipated my response. Throughout the years, I’d wondered who my parents were, but it’d been so clear why they’d had to give me up that I’d never put much stock in it. I’d figured they’d died rather horrifically, and it would just be better if I never knew.
But it seemed like no, I hadn’t killed them at all. It was actually the Shriek, and much more directly than I’d ever thought.
“I’ve defeated kings, mighty shifters, and witches more powerful than you could ever dream of. You are nothing!” he continued, so much vehemence in his words that they were more hissed than spoken.
“It’s funny how you keep on talking like that’s going to do something,” I countered, summoning my magic above both of our heads, then slamming it down with all that I had. The ground below us shook hard enough for me to need to take a step and brace myself, but when the dust cleared, the Shrouded Shriek was still standing.
I wasn’t intimidated, though. Unlike the other times we’d interacted, I refused to let my fear rule me. The Shriek was no longer a mysterious entity clouded in more mystery than the fact. I knew him for the greedy, pathetic being he was.
“I may be no king, but I don’t need a crown to defeat you. I am more than my heritage. I am Ayla Everton, and I’ll be the one to send you to Hell.”
With that, I used the technique that’d been working so well for me that day and thrust him into the air with my magic. I’d seen the ancient magic user move, so I knew I couldn’t rely on him just splatting back to the ground. But once he was high enough, I flipped that mental spatula over and tried to knock him back to the ground.
But the second part of my attack never quite made contact. Instead, the Shriek lifted both of his hands, and my spatula dissolved into nothing at the tips of his fingers. As if that weren’t enough, gray lightning flashed my way, forcing me to jump backward to avoid it.
Suddenly, I found myself in a rainstorm of unnatural lightning, with little tufts of magic trying to bite at me. It felt like dozens of little carnivorous fish were trying to get their tiny bit of flesh with razor sharp teeth. I formed a shield around myself as I continued to dodge the greater strikes, but I could still sense every time the Shriek’s assault tried to penetrate my protection.
It seemed I wasn’t the only one who knew how to switch things up and keep an opponent on their toes. It was clear that in all our interactions before, the Shriek had underestimated me. It was apparent that time was over, and I was now experiencing the full extent of his power.
I thought I was managing fairly well and was looking for a window to retaliate when a fireball came hurtling down. I rolled to the side, but it turned out that I must have moved too predictably because lightning landed right at my feet, throwing me backward.
I slammed into yet another wall, and I felt all my barely healed bones rebreak. Full-body agony swept through me with vengeance, making vomit rise up my throat. Or was it blood?
I collapsed to the ground and barely managed to roll away from another hail of smaller fireballs, throwing a shield up to block the three magic lightning bolts of that same sickening ashen color trying to slam right into me.
I didn’t even want to think about what those would actually do to me if they managed to hit, so I just wasn’t going to let them.
Not for the first time, I wished I were more experienced with offensive magic. I’d done great battling the Vekan forces just minutes earlier, but that had been at a distance, when I’d had more time to think. Even with the elemental, it had been a melee fight with enchanted weapons. With the Shriek, however, it was entirely magical. Just spell after spell after spell, and my opponent had just as many counters as I did.
Finally, I found a beat—a tiny gap in his barrage—and I expanded my shield rapidly outward, flinging those attacks back onto the Shriek.
