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I don’t turn to look at the two orcs. My attention is reserved for Arluin.
Natharius curls his hand, warping the shadows. Dark flames rush for Arluin.
“Ekrad!”A shield forms around Arluin, preventing the attack from reaching him.
The shadowy flames lick at his defenses, threatening to gnaw holes through it. He grips the amulet more tightly, and the jagged blue stone glows brighter.
“Uzrit.”
His shield explodes. Dark magic sweeps out, causing even Natharius to step back. I fight to keep my feet fixed to the ground.
I clutch my staff, summoning all the magic I can.
“Ignir’alas!”I call.
Aether ignites into flames. Fiery wings spread upward, descending on Arluin.
“Farjud,”Arluin says the moment before my blazing attack is upon him. He merges with the shadows and reappears a few steps away.
The fiery wings slam into the ground, burning the street. Where they touch, the stone is left charred.
I grit my teeth, preparing another attack while Natharius holds his attention. I don’t maintain my concentration for long.
Footsteps sound behind. They’re slow, dragging across the stone.
I glance back. My focus broken, the spell I was forming withers in my hands, returning to raw aether.
My father stands there, his head bent at an unnatural angle. And his dead eyes pierce through my soul.
thirty-nine
“F-father,”Istammer.
My father says nothing. He only stares at me with that hollow gaze of his.
He still wears his magnificent Grandmage’s robes, now tattered and dirtied. Defiled, like the rest of him.
“It’s me,” I choke. “Reyna.”
I’m not sure why I bother. I know he won’t recognize me. His corpse is an empty husk, enslaved to Arluin’s will.
Yet I wish that he wasn’t entirely gone. That a part of him remains somewhere deep beneath the dark magic reanimating his corpse.
“Your . . . your daughter.”
I long to see recognition flashing through the shadowy orbs of his eyes. But there’s nothing, only the twitching of his fingers which are held in a rigid claw.
My hands tremble around his staff. I lift it, hoping he might recognize it.
He does not.
His lip curls into a snarl. He raises his hand in a stiff movement that looks as if it will snap his arm from his shoulder. Shadows gather. Though my eyes see what he’s doing, the thought takes several heartbeats for my mind to process.
“Rivus,”he croaks. His broken voice grates through my ears like gravel.
A bolt of darkness spins toward me.
“Muriz!”For a moment, my voice sounds distant. As if it is not my own.
