The vial slips from his fingers and shatters on the ground, the remnants of the liquid pooling in dark rivulets that slither across the stone floor, as if alive. I can barely focus on him as he looms over me, his skeletal hands reaching out to tilt my chin upward. His touch is cruelly gentle, a mockery of comfort, forcing me to meet his gaze.
“You think you’re strong,” he murmurs, his breath hot and foul against my face. “But you’re breaking, little by little. Soon, you’ll beg me to stop.”
I force a laugh, brittle and rasping. “You’ll die waiting.”
His expression hardens, the amusement vanishing, replaced by something darker, colder. “We’ll see.”
Malric turns away, but the fire in my veins doesn’t ebb. It climbs higher, licking at the edges of my sanity. My body convulses against the restraints, the metal cutting into my flesh, slick with blood. Each jolt of pain is a thousand tiny deaths, but I cling to one thought, fragile and luminous in the storm of torment: I will not give him the satisfaction of my surrender.
I close my eyes, summoning the faces of my coven as a shield, hoping they won’t betray me a second time. The specters of my sisters stand beside me, and their voices echo faintly in my mind, fragmented and dissonant, whispering words of survival and perseverance. Theirs is a world of heartbreak and suffering, of continual disappointment and dissatisfaction. They didn’t break and they barely bowed, and now I must do the same.
Kade’s voice joins their chorus; a distant hum that sounds like a battle cry. His touch is a ghost that tells me to hold on, insisting that this isn’t the end.
The fire shifts, deepening, changing. It’s more than destruction and its devastation sweeps through me. My magic stirs, strangely sluggish and reluctant, a spark in the abyss that might not be enough. I bite back a cry as I seize it, pulling it to me like a lifeline.
Malric pauses, sensing the shift. His eyes narrow as he turns and there’s a flicker of something other than sadistic glee in his expression.
Fear.
It’s faint, but it’s there.
It’s a hairline crack in Malric’s unshakable armor and I latch onto it with everything I have. My magic is slow, listless from the poison and pain, but it’s moving now, crawling through me like a wounded animal seeking refuge. I force it to respond, whipping it into a flurry as the whispers ofdesperation grow louder and I step back from the verge of failure.
“What are you doing, Zara?” Malric’s voice, sharp with suspicion, slices through the haze of my agony.
I don’t answer. I can’t. Every ounce of focus is on the flicker of power within me, coaxing it to life, feeding it with the anger and pain that surge in waves. My body trembles as I force it to respond. My magic has always been wild, untamed, but it’s mine. And Malric doesn’t get to take that from me.
He moves faster now, his bony fingers wrapping around my throat, cutting off my air. His grip tightens, but the fire inside me burns hotter. I choke on his hold, but the flicker in my veins flares, refusing to be extinguished.
“Stop this, or I will make you regret it.”
“Do your worst,” I manage, my voice a ragged whisper.
Malric’s crimson eyes narrow, but that crack I’ve opened widens. His confidence falters. He’s used to breaking his prey, not watching them burn brighter under his torture. My magic surges again, no longer a spark but a wave, and this time, I slip into its current.
The heat intensifies, spreading outward. My skin tingles, and the scent of burnt flesh shifts, replaced by a sharp and electric smell that overpowers the death and decay in the chamber. The restraints around my wrists and ankles glow red-hot, then melt away with a hiss. Malric stumbles back, his hand snapping away from my throat as if scalded.
“What have you done?” His voice rises, cracking with panic.
I sit up slowly, my body screaming in protest, but my magic roars louder. The pain is still there, sharp and unrelenting, but it fuels me now. It’s a part of me, a weapon I’ve forged in his fire. I plant my feet on the cold stone floor, unsteady but standing, and meet Malric’s gaze.
The shadows on the wall draw back, and the faces hiding in their blackness turn away in fear. The flickering candlelight bursts into brilliance as my magic explodes outward. It isn’t dull or lifeless anymore, it’s alive. It’s a storm unleashed from the depths of my soul and the arm Malric raises to shield his eyes fails to protect him.
“What are you doing?” he cries.
An icy draft curls through the chamber, carrying with it the subtle scent of iron and an elusive darkness. Malric stiffens, his skeletal fingers pausing mid-motion and his gaze snaps to one of the corners of the chamber.
“You came,” he drawls, a note of tension beneath his smirk.
The shadows cling together, rippling with a life of their own, as a figure emerges from them and his boots echo against the uneven stone floor. Galen’s silhouette emerges, sharp and commanding, his cloak trailing behind him like spilled ink. His dark eyes gleam in the dim light and for a brief, treacherous moment, relief flutters through my chest.
“You’ve been busy,” he says, his voice smooth and cool, laced with mockery. “Playing with your dinner.”
Malric chuckles, low and venomous. “And you’ve been skulking in the shadows, as always. What’s your game this time, Galen? Surely you haven’t come to play some more?”
Galen’s eyes flicker to mine, making an ice-cold blade twist through my gut. There’s no warmth there, only calculation. Only greed and the hunger for power.
“I’m done playing with witches,” he says evenly.
