I need to free myself from her. For the order of things. For my brothers. For myself.
The thought comes unbidden, sharp as the edge of my blade: kill her now.
It would be easy. One clean strike, one moment of steel and resolve, and this would all be over. The chaos sheunleashed and the imbalance she embodies would all end here in this forsaken cave. The world would thank me for it, even if no one ever knew. I would carry the weight of her death gladly, relish it even, if it meant restoring the order she’s torn apart.
My hand tightens on the hilt, the leather grip warm against my palm. I take a step closer, staring down at her. She doesn’t stir, doesn’t even seem aware of me, and that makes it worse. She’s defenseless. Weak. There’s no satisfaction in cutting down an enemy who doesn’t fight back.
No satisfaction, but still a necessity.
But another part of me hesitates. I hate the sliver of doubt that whispers of alternatives. Of mercy. Of reason. The part that screams as much as I want to see her dead, she’s more useful to me alive. I might despise her and everything she represents, but the undeniable truth is her power is immense. Untamed, but potent.
And I could tame her.
I could force her to be mine, bend her to my will. Break her if necessary. It wouldn’t be easy, but then no one’s ever withstood me. Not the witches or their rebellions. Not the other warlocks. Not even my brothers.
The thought chills me as much as it excites me. It’s a gamble, one I’d have to control carefully. One that comes with sacrifice too, and I’m not sure I want to make it. I’ve never been concerned with the feelings of others and I don’t want to take a wife. Not when it cuts off the possibility of others. Not even for the power she offers me.
She looks so fragile, like a bird needing to be caged.
I could save her. I could make her sing for me, and me alone.
It might be a fun game to play until I get bored, until she’s drained of all power and given me the heirs I deserve. My fingers curl and my magic slips in a rare moment of weakness,and it surges forward, brushing against her. Her head snaps up and her emerald eyes lock onto mine, blazing with fury.
“You,” she snarls, her voice hoarse but laced with venom.
I should keep her.
I step forward as she gets to her feet and her magic slams into my chest like a tidal wave, raw and unrestrained. It burns, crackling against my skin, but I stay standing, shoving her back hard enough to make her stumble.
Her hand stretches in front of her and she reaches for her magic. I reach for mine and our eyes lock as our silence says all the things our words aren’t saying.
Zara can’t use her magic. Whatever she unleashed was a last burst of power dragged from some residual store. She’s drained herself and the chaos she unleashed has affected her as much as it affected me. The girl’s afraid, confused and unhinged, railing against the loss of her power and she’s as disorientated as I am. But she knows she’s lost her power and she knows I’m weakened.
“What did you do?” she screams, pouring her rage into her cries.
I smirk, dark and humorless. Whatever enchantment the witch has unleashed has cut her off from her power and she’s exposed. Vulnerable. Weak. I’m bigger than her, stronger by far, and this isn’t even a fair fight. I step closer, my fingers curled into a fist and I slam it into her chest, sending her hurtling into the stone wall behind her.
Zara cries as her back collides with the unyielding stone and I smirk, certain I’ve got some time before I need to decide whether to keep her or kill her.
