Because she’s out there.
I’m going to find her.
And when I do, there’s going to be hell to pay.
The tug in my chest strengthens as I move, pulling me like a thread wound tight around my ribcage. I don’t understand it, don’t like it, but I can’t ignore it. It’s the only lead I have, the only way to find her. My boots crunch against the brittle remains of the forest floor, charred leaves and broken branches crumbling into ash beneath my feet. The air is thick with smoke and the stench of death, clinging to my skin, seeping into my lungs.
This place was alive once. I can still see the echoes of it in my mind: the towering trees that whispered in the wind, the creatures that darted through the underbrush, the soft hum of magic that pulsed through the land. Now, it’s just ruin.
Zara’s magic didn’t just tear through the forest—it annihilated it, left it a hollowed-out corpse of what it once was. This destruction is why we control them.
I enjoy death and pain as much as any warlock, probably more than most, if I’m honest, but this is too much. This is uncontrolled. This is pure, unbridled devastation and nothing remains. This is why witches are dangerous, why they always have been and always will be. I’ve only seen this madness once before and my father dealt with that rebellion brutally. Decisively. Conclusively.
The witches call us tyrants but we’re more than that. We’re overlords who protect the balance. We let life live and enjoy its death, keeping chaos in check. There’s no balance here, no reason in this madness. Even my blackened heart can’t find joy in this destruction.
This is what happens when a jumped-up little witch is allowed to wield magic she can’t handle.
This is why I had to find her, and it’s why I have to kill her.
The ground shifts beneath me, cracking open in places to reveal veins of molten rock still glowing with the heat of the explosion. I jump over one such crevice, landing hard on the other side. Pain flares in my ribs, but I keep moving, the pull in my chest dragging me forward. It’s instinctual now, guiding me through the destruction like a compass. My magic flares weakly in response, still fractured, still wrong, but alive enough to keep me going.
I’ve never felt anything like this. My power has always been mine—steady, strong, unshakable. Now it’s different. It’s almost as if it’s tethered. As if it’s straining to be free or reaching for something just out of its grasp. It’s unsettling and infuriating, and I know exactly who’s to blame.
Zara.
The name burns in my mind, fueling my steps. She’s afucking catastrophe wrapped in a not-unpretty package, and she doesn’t even know it. Maybe that’s the worst part—she doesn’t know what she’s done, what she’s capable of. But I do. I’ve seen it. Felt it. Lived through it. And now the world is paying the price for her ignorance.
Another step, another crackle of scorched earth beneath my boots. The trees thin out ahead, opening into a clearing that wasn’t there before. The pull in my chest tightens, sharp and insistent.
She’s close.
My skin sings with the sparks she’s sending flying over it, and I don’t like the sensation. It’s warm. Fuzzy. Fucking nice, and I loathe it. Worse, that tug on my heartstrings pulls harder, the chords striking a note that demands I follow her.
I stop and look around, searching for her among the debris. There’s no crumpled body lying in the wasteland, no limbs buried beneath the rubble. Her silver hair doesn’t show itself and I can’t hear the beat of her heart as the silence drowns out all other noise.
The devastation leads up the hill, and the rocks covering the steep slope smolder with the residual heat left behind. They’re as black as the night and my eyes narrow, catching sight of a small entranceway concealed in the slope. I curl my fingers, demanding my magic obey me and it flickers to life, pulsing forward and confirming there’s a small cave concealed behind the stones.
I sigh.
It’s so pathetic.
She’s managed so much devastation, yet she’s barely put any distance between us. The girl achieved a moment of greatness and then allowed herself to sink back down to whatever hole she crawled out of, and now I have to crawl into one to find her. To finish her.
The cave is a shallow, stifling hole in the hillside, barely wide enough to fit my shoulders without scraping. The jagged rocks at the entrance claw at me as I duck inside, their edges still warm from her magic’s outburst. The air within is no better; it’s thick and acrid, tinged with the metallic tang of raw power. It curls around me like a shroud, sticking to my skin, pressing against my senses. My magic stirs in response, sluggish and reluctant, but enough to remind me it’s still there.
The tug in my chest shifts, tightening, drawing me deeper into the dark.
She’s here. Hiding like the coward she is.
I move cautiously, the uneven ground forcing me to keep my balance as the faintest pulse of light glimmers ahead. It’s weak, a flicker more than a glow, but unmistakable. Her magic. I grip the hilt of the blade at my hip—not because I need it, but because it feels good to hold something solid. Something dependable.
As I round the corner, I find her.
Zara lies on the ground, knees drawn to her chest, curled up like she’s a small child. Her silver hair, streaked with soot and sweat, clings to her face, and her eyes are closed, head tucked forward as if she’s trying to calm herself. She looks fragile, human—so much less than the wrecking force that obliterated the forest above.
But she’s not.
She’s a fucking curse, and I need to free us from her.
