“You and I have different definitions of the word.”
Another wave of screams plagues the air, battering us from afar.
His twisted smile broadens. “Sounds the same to me.”
He’s correct. It does.
The difference is, I take no pleasure in the blood I’m having to spill to scrub the stain he created. Nor will I when it’s gone, because myownstain will linger.
A dying scream echoes for eternity. This war, no matter how necessary, will burden me forever.
“The Burn will be cleansed of all traces ofsuperiorityyou’ve imbued it with.” I fist the beads dangling from his ear and rip them free.
His seethed scream echoes across the plains.
“Folk will be valued on their morals, not the beads they wear,” I say, pocketing his. “When I eventually pass from this world, the crown will go to Veya, who has vowed to the Creators and shall not pass on the Vaegor heritage.”
I take small pleasure in his widening eyes. In the way his upper lip trembles, pulling back from his bloody teeth.
“You, Ostern Vaegor, will be remembered only as the tyrant you are. Because rest assured, I won’t breathe my final breath until I’ve strengthened the north. Built an army strong enough that I’m able to cleanse the world of all your hard, bloody work, then finally take Tyroth’s and Cadok’s heads. Just like I’m about to take yours.”
“They’ll be ready,” he grinds out. “When you come, they’ll crush you because you’re weak. Pathetic.”
His words no longer burn like they once did.
Nothing does.
Everything pales in comparison to the continued ache of Elluin’s absence. To the pain of existing in this world without her and the devastating knowledge that her daughter will never know what it feels like to be loved by Elluin Neván.
That’s the biggest tragedy of all this. Pah’s worst offense.
“Whatever makes you feel better.”
I pull my small handsaw from the sheath at my waist, its many teeth blunted from being dragged against a stone. Something I boast, letting him get a long look at the weapon I’m about to end him with.
Though he pales, he laughs—cold and bubbling. “You cut off my head and secrets die with me. One that—”
I snatch him by the jaw. “There’s nothing you could offer me worth bartering for.”
Despite his waning strength, Pah claws at my hand and arm. Feeble attempts to fight me off as my blood simmers, Rygun’s fiery violence erupting through me, churning to meet my own. Making my skin stretch and split, struggling to contain the beast-born strength now pumping through my veins.
Behind me, Rygunroars so loud I picture two glassy worlds being ground against each other until they’re nothing but dust on the torpid wind.
Pah’s bloody hands gouge at my chest and arms to no avail, his wide eyes tracing all the sizzling cracks ripping through my flesh as I pry his mouth open, reach in, and grip what’s left of his tongue. “You’ve takeneverything.”
I slice.
He blasts a bubbling roar that spills a gush of blood down his chin and chest.
I toss the lump of flesh aside. Feast on the potent reek of Pah’s fear as he looks at me through bulging eyes like he finally sees the monster he created. Perhaps realizes my big, warm heart was the perfect catalyst—absorbing the pain and loss he plugged down my throat until it finally mauled me into his worst fucking slumber-terror.
Hissed, wet breaths seethe past his clenched teeth as I push up, fist what remains of his hair that hasn’t been burnt off, and use the firm grip to lengthen his neck. I bring the toothy blade to his throat—not the front. Fueled by the knowledge that he’ll feel blunt slice after blunt slice before he’s finally released from this life.
Pressing the weapon into his flesh, I begin to saw in slow, grizzly drags.
He convulses … writhes … thrashes in my grip. Releases short, gurgling screams that taper with a gush of blood that paints my hands and the ground in spurts.
Boiling from the inside out, I continue sawing through the gore, lips trembling, gaze speared toward the warring horizon. Toward the many dragons clashing in the hazy sky, throwing plumes of flame amongst explosions of angry smoke.
