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“Ignira,”I whisper.
And with that word, I kill my father.
He releases an unearthly howl as the flames consume him, licking his rotting flesh from his bones. He doesn’t scream in pain, but in anger.
The staff falls from my hands. It bounces onto the street, clinking with the impact. I clutch my ears, desperate to silence the sound of Father’s shrieks. But the sound isn’t muffled by my palms. His howls are deafening, drowning out all else in my mind. I think I might be screaming with him too.
Finally, he falls silent.
Slowly, I open my eyes. The flames consume the remains of Father’s corpse, and there is little left of him beneath the amber glow. He stares at me, and I stare back, lifting my hands from my ears. A ghost of a smile flickers on his face. His eyes twinkle with magenta light.
I am sure I see my name on his lips. Hear it ringing through my mind.
Reyna.
My lower lip trembles. “Father,” I gasp, reaching out. “Father!”
His smile grows, illuminating his entire face with warmth.
And then he’s gone.
Ash scatters through the wind. The flames die.
A shimmering cloud of purple light drifts over me, sweeping across my face. For a moment, it feels as if Father’s fingers are brushing over my cheeks.
The cloud of aether soars upward into the night sky. Then it fades, taking Father’s soul with it.
I fall to my knees. I don’t feel the impact. I stare at the spot where his reanimated corpse stood moments ago. The stone is blackened where my fireball struck.
The world sways. Even remaining on my knees seems impossible.
I don’t know what I expected to feel in this moment. Maybe relief as a burden slips from my shoulders. Maybe fury over what Arluin did to Father. I expected to feel hatred, but not toward myself.
My limbs feel like ice. I try to move them, but they refuse. All I can think about is killing Father. Even if he was already dead.
I know I must move, that I’m currently in the midst of battle, but I can’t.
“Reyna!”
The shout of my name jolts my senses. I glance back to see Natharius shouting at me, horror on his face.
Shadows race toward me. Arluin’s hands are raised.
Adrenaline pounds through my veins. I scramble to my feet, but there’s no time. The crystalline staff lies several paces away from me.
I will die.
Natharius’s draconic wings beat as he glides toward me. But even he won’t reach me in time.
There isn’t even time to muttermurizand conjure a shield to protect myself. Not that it will do me much good. The bolt of shadows racing toward me is far more powerful than my magic.
I lunge to the side. The shadow bolt alters its course.
There’s no escaping it. I watch the spell close in.
Shadows crash into me. They throw me backward, my head slamming against the stones beneath. Darkness clouds my vision. My lungs empty of air.
I expect to feel pain, but I feel none.
