Ambrose’s heart plummeted to her stomach.Shewas the Unclassified.
“Thismage—” Akadian stepped closer to her. “Is under my care. She is a Trial Champion and protected by Divine Law. You will not touch her.”
The deacon pretended to ponder the prince’s words. “Yes… While thatmaybe true, to have an Unclassified Trial Champion? It’s even more of an abomination. What message would we be sending the gods if we allowed this to continue? It would be a mockery of the trials if she were permitted to enter.” The deacon shook his pale head and reached a hand to Ambrose. “No, that simply won’t do. Please hand her over.”
Akadian tensed beside her as though every muscle was ready to pounce. He could give the deacon a direct order, but it didn’t seem as though he was taking orders from the royals and found his own twisted vigilante rules somewhere else.
Ambrose didn’t notice that the rest of their party had joined them, all of them frantically looking at the scene as no one dared to move.
“Leave them alone,” she said through gritted teeth as she stepped in front of Akadian and faced the deacon. No matter what, she had to get thatbaby away from the disciple’s hands. Somehow, she had to save all of them, but she wasn’t sure she knew how. She didn’t care as the fury inside of her surged and for once her focus was razor sharp. Rather than nearly crippling her, her channels roared when she called them. She hadn’t learned to counter Shadow Magick yet, but now seemed as good of a time as any.
The vines snaking their way around Marybeth and Artie tightened and their whimpers were suffocated as the thorn appendages encased them both completely.
“Ahhhh, but there must be some punishment.” The deacon made a ‘tsk, tsk’ sound as he paced the couple. “The Order of the Brotherly Divine doesn’t take kindly to deceit. We gave them plenty of chances to bring you to us and they refused. What would it look like if I let them go without proper consequences?”
Blood pounding in her ears, Ambrose stepped towards the deacon. “I said, let them go.”
The deacon stared at her for a moment and tilted his head back as he laughed. “You? And what does an Unclassified plan to do?” The deacon spat at her feet. “Your existence is an abomination.”
“Are you itching that badly to see what my magick really can do?” She crouched down, channels flowing so strong she was surprised when they made her more focused instead of dizzy. As though she could see everything around her with perfect detail.
“You have no Magick.”
“Let them go or you’re going to find out just how wrong you are.” Ambrose took another step towards him, the hairs on her skin dancing with the current inside her.
“I don’t think so.” The deacon’s black, soulless eyes narrowed. “We have laws in this town. Order. Structure. Without it, what we do wouldn’t be possible and the gods would never return. We cannot encourage disobedience or lies, both of which they are guilty of. Their punishment is what I deem it to be, I will not take orders fromyou.”
Ambrose unleashed a small amount of the power coursing through her veins and the energy invaded the air around them all, filling them withan electric hum. Two of the disciples shared worried glances between themselves.
“This is your last chance,” she warned.
“As I said, I don’t take orders from you.” He turned a ghostly face to one of his disciples. “Burn it.”
In a flash, flames as high as the house itself devoured the crop fields, incinerating everything they touched as they reached towards the home.
“No!” Ambrose called the force that rushed inside of her as she swept her arm, extinguishing half the flames with a forceful gush of wind.Gods be damned,it wasn’t enough, she cursed.
The deacon glared at her as the singed field smoked. “That’s not possible!”
Felius sprang into action, pulling his battle axe from behind him as he crouched and carefully began cutting away at the vines that held Artie and Marybeth as Oryon and Eurus brandished their swords and faced the disciples. Podara started running buckets of water from the well to the fire in futile attempts at quelling the hungry flames. All while Danthan stayed back in case he could be of help.
Ambrose took another step towards the deacon, every nerve in her body honed into destroying the mage. “I’ll show youexactlywhat’s possible.” Calling the fury inside her, she raised a hand and beat the air with it, sending a blast of wind at the deacon that threw him back several feet, though he managed to stay standing.
She could fix that.
“That’s not possible!” the deacon screeched, enraged. “You have no Magick. By decree of the king himself! There cannot be a mistake, youcan’t dothat!” He threw his shadows at her, but she was ready.
Ambrose brought both her hands out in front of her, letting the charge fill her before slamming them forward so his shadows met nothing but a wall of air that she held strong. The dark whispers beat against her wall, licking around the edges trying to find a way through. She couldn’t see through her rage. All she knew was she would tear him apart—limb from limb—if that’s what it took. His reign of terror would end tonight.
“You have no idea what I can do.” As she’d seen him do, she reachedher hands into the darkness and found the shadows that lingered in them, she coaxed them forward, unsure if they would listen, but refusing to let them ignore her. The darkness flirted with her call before they answered as though they’d been waiting for her to ask the right way.
“NO!” The deacon hurled his shadows at her but she pulled from their world, urging them to answer as they curled and suffocated his with every throw.
How many times had she called the darkness knowing it would never answer?
It finally did. And she feltincredible.
Furious, the robed mage refused to back down as he called his shadows that shrunk a little with each answer as though they no longer saw him fit to control them.
