But then Oskaren’s arms trembled, and the shield slipped an inch. Thia pressed forward, driving more of her weight into the other girl, and Oskaren gasped as a sliver of fire escaped over the side and singed her shoulder before she could raise the shield back up.
Then the barrage halted, and they fell forward together at the sudden lack of resistance. Oskaren let momentum carry her into a graceful roll that brought her back to her feet, and she held out a hand to Thia, who was still a blob on the grass. “Get behind me,” she demanded, voice gruff.
Xercae stood before them, a black storm swirling from her hands, glittery and dark. Her cloak billowed in its wind. “You will pay for what you’ve done,” she hissed.
“What is that?” Thia breathed.
“Not fire,” Oskaren said.
Thia thought she detected a flicker of fear in her voice, but now was not the time to contemplate the possibility of the girl’s emotional capacity under the curse. She ducked behind Oskaren, heartbeat hammering in her ears. “Will the shield hold?”
“We’re about to find out,” came the cool reply.
The storm grew, and Xercae’s white hair whipped in the wind. Turning green eyes to Thia, she let out an ear-piercing shriek and released it. It spiraled toward them, hitting the shield with a force that caused Oskaren to cry out. Thia leaned forward, using whatever strength she had left to support the other girl as she kept the shield in front of them.
It was in vain. Bit by bit the storm was turning it to ash. The edges flecked away first, disappearing like dust in the wind.
“Oskaren,” Thia said, voice high and terrified.
“I know,” the girl grunted.
Thia clutched the back of Oskaren’s jerkin, fingers squeezing the leather. “What do we do?”
“On the count of three, run,” she said.
Thia nodded, not trusting her voice, only to realize the girl couldn’t see it. “Okay,” she agreed.
“One.”
“Two.”
She released Oskaren’s clothes and prepared to run.
“Three.”
She bolted.
She made it ten steps before she realized she was alone. She glanced back over her shoulder, scanning desperately. Oskaren hadn’t run with her. She’d dropped to the ground, ducking under the stream of the storm.
Thia called her a million names in her head, watching with terror as Xercae realized they were no longer behind the shield. The witch snarled, twisting her hands to direct the storm downward, ready to blast Oskaren to ash.
“Hey!” Thia screamed, waving her good arm in the air.
Xercae’s head snapped up, poisonous stare settling on Thia. “You,” she hissed, and the venom in the word left Thia with no doubt that she was the true object of the witch’s wrath.
Xercae’s hands traced an arc, and Thia leapt without thinking, throwing herself into a dive. She yelled as her injured wrist struck the ground, narrowly escaping the ball of fire that flew right where she had just been standing.
She rolled to her feet, pain and fatigue slamming into her all at once. She bent over, clutching her knees, her head nothing but white noise.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Xercae drive her hands forward and loose another fireball. Thia ducked again, much less gracefully, and when she hit the ground, she did not get up.
Footsteps approached. She pushed herself clumsily into a seated position.
Xercae smiled. “My sissssster screamed for a moment,” she hissed. “You will scream for eternityyy.”
Thia forced herself to stand. If she was going down, she wouldn’t do it cowering with fear.
Xercae was three steps away now. The witch opened her arms as if to embrace Thia, her fangs protruding as she gave the approximation of a human grin.
