The Scion cried out. Warmth spread under Reagan’s knees. The man had pissed himself.
“I didn’t. I didn’t,” he gasped.
Reagan shoved his face into the dirt. “But you did. And maybe hurting a human would earn you an easy deal. But hurting a Mage Lord?” The Scion bucked, desperate for air. “Now even that disgrace of a court will see you pay.”
He slammed the man’s head against the ground. Silence followed. One left.
Reagan moved quickly. Caius would soon reach the edge of the radius that would allow him to fling. When Reagan spotted him through the trees, his limbs filled with mana and violence.
“You’re almost there.”
Caius spun, eyes wide, searching. He cursed low and ran again. Reagan had no such limitation to move. As the Mage Lord, he could fling in any stretch of his land.
“I thought you fancied yourself superior,” he said, voice almost lazy. “Yet you went three against her.”
Branches cracked under Caius’s boots, his breath ragged, movements frantic. Reagan gathered his mana into a gust and released it. The wind snatched the Scion’s legs from under him, sending him crashing on his side.
Caius turned on his back, mouth twisting.“Morcium voco."
Reagan’s ward swathed him on reflex, rising in a shimmering hush before Caius could finish uttering the death hex. The blast whisked away, and Reagan laughed, so steeped in rage that, for a fleeting second, he thought he might turn.
“Oh, so close,” he taunted, letting his voice carry with feigned disappointment.
Caius writhed, muttering something frantic, clawing at the ground to fight the invisible hold. But his power came as nothing more than a weak push back.
Reagan seized the collar of Caius’s cloak and yanked him back until he lay flat on the ground. "You're not so brave fighting someone your own size, are you?” His gaze travelled over the man. "No ward. No knife at a woman's throat. Suddenly you're not so superior.”
He didn't give the man time to respond. In a blur of movement, Reagan surged to his feet and drove his boot into the Scion's stomach.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The Scion folded around the blows, chest heaving as he curled in on himself.
Reagan stared down, tasting blood in his mouth.
The man’s red face lolled on the ground, but he could still talk. “You won’t kill me. I did not kill ya human bitch,” Caius rasped, then grinned. “But when I get her again, I will do some real kinky stuff.”
Reagan let all the gathered violence guide his movements.
His breathing was hard as he placed his boot over the man’s ribs. He pressed his weight onto Caius’s stomach, leveraging more of his power for strength. The ribs yielded with a brittle snap, and a strangled cry burst out of Caius, loud enough for Heil to hear.
Reagan relaxed at the sound.
“I don’t deal very well with threats. And you already tried to kill me, so no one would give a flying fuck about what happens to you.”
He pressed his boot against the broken rib and watched the man’s suffering ripple through him. For a moment he felt as though the tightness in his own chest poured straight into the Scion’s.
“But then I thought that a lifetime in Pavilion, staring into that murky black every second of every day, might be a better fate for you. I thought to myself…letting you rot sounds far more satisfying. Especially now, after you tried to take a Mage Lord’s life.” A humourless smile tugged at his mouth. “They will definitely take you down under.”
Reagan recognised the blinding rage, the urge to flay the man alive like a snake and use the skin as a trophy, to fry him with a crack of lightning. He recognised the urge for what it was and released it on a long, shaking breath.
“But I will see that you are put in a cell worthy of your superiority,” Reagan said evenly. “I will ask her to choose how low in Pavilion you should be, where the pressure is exquisite.”
He wished, briefly, that he could char that flesh to cinders, but that would take too long to mend, and Reagan needed to bring the man to court after this.
