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Another bolt of lightning streaks past me. “Morana!” The deep voice booms across the landscape, and I spin around with a vicious snarl, my cape flying out around me. The sky cracks in half, reality shattering as a powerful cloaking spell breaks and crashes to the ground. The empty field is now filled with hundreds of people dressed in armor.
My jaw clenches at the sight, the fury ramping up as a red haze lowers over my vision. Rolls of thunder threaten to deafen me, and I glance up to see Thor sitting amongst the clouds. His daughters, fully restored to their former glory, surround him. My nails dig into my palms as I seethe. This is impossible. Those fucking horses were hidden too well to ever be found.
Forgetting about the palace, I send a call out to my ravens, but for the first time in two hundred years, they ignore me. I clench my fists, refusing to allow the tendrils of fear skating down my spine to turn into full-blown panic. I am still the most powerful being here.
Thunder rolls across the sky again, and I’ve had enough. “Missing your brother, Thor? I wonder where he could be?”
“Right behind you.”
Before I can react, I’m knocked out of the sky, my heart plummeting with my fall. Whipping my magic out, I manage to land on my feet, hiding my trembling fists in my skirts. I glare up at Baldr, my mind a mass of confusion. It must be some trick, some magical illusion. Nothing can come out of the mirror.
Snow White’s arrow shot through it,my mind unhelpfully reminds me. But she’s dead, I killed her myself.
“Advance!” a voice calls out, followed by the bellow of horns. The army begins to march toward me with shouts of “Kill the queen!” and “Murderer!”
Don’t these fools know I could wipe them all out with a single thought? Dropping to my knees, I dig my hands into the soil, ignoring the volley of flaming arrows that arcs overhead. I call upon the dead things, the rotting things, the forgotten and unloved things.
An earthquake rips through the earth, opening a chasm between my side of the field and theirs. I watch on with glee as a number of the army falls into it, their screams calming a little of the anger in me. From out of the fissure come the dead, skeletons of people and animals alike, crawling their way out of hell, beckoned by my call.
“Destroy them!” I scream, pointing toward the army. The dead turn, their empty eyes so like those of my puppets. That reminds me. Throwing an arm out to the side, I shoot magic out toward the palace, rounding up servants, huntsmen, and even the king, and draw them to the battlefield. They arrive in their dozens, their eyes blacked over, each with a sword in their hand.
Glancing over my shoulder, I spy Baldr joining his brother amongst the clouds. Straightening my shoulders, I lift my hand, resting it under my chin. I blow out a deep breath, a magical kiss that twists into a horizontal funnel. It shoots through the air, blasting them out of the sky.
The Valkyries scream, two of them diving to catch them. My right eye ticks when I spot the one responsible for my daughter’s death. Cackling, I whip my arm around my head, and a lasso, charged with electricity, slithers out of my wrist. I thrust myself into the air and release the rope, which finds itself wrapped around my target. I yank, hard, tearing her off her horse, and watch with satisfaction as she tumbles toward the ground. Of course, one of her sisters rescues her. I bare my teeth at them, then duck when the blonde one throws a spear at me.
I hiss angrily, my eyes darting in too many directions. I can’t keep up. Landing back on the ground, I storm into the forest, the dead trees surrounding me like sentinels. I rip several of them out of the soil, their roots dangling, reminding me of a sea witch’s tentacles. My magic molds them together, their trunks forming into a long body. A lashing tail appears, and a monstrous head with red eyes lifts, staring down at me. Huge gleaming teeth snap in the dragon’s jaws, waiting for my orders.
I place a kiss on its snout and murmur, “Go, my beautiful. Kill them all.” Swirls of smoke pour from its nostrils as it spreads its wings, flapping furiously to get off the ground. With a smirk, I watch it soar through the sky, breathing fire on all it sees.
I take a moment to assess, my gaze wandering over the field. To the right, a group of archers has settled in the trees, raining volley after volley of arrows down on my army. A group of dwarfs battles several of my skeletons, while soldiers wearing Alba’s insignia busily construct a bridge to gap the chasm my earthquake made.
A blast knocks me into the air, throwing me twenty feet back. I land heavily in the dirt, dazed. Breathing in deep breaths through my mouth, I pull myself to my feet, wiping crumbs of dirt from my face. Tilting my head back at the sound of cawing, my lips pull into a victorious smile when my ravens appear above in their hundreds.Finally.
“Attack them!” I shout, but they ignore me, continuing to circle above.
“They no longer answer to you,” a voice says before an older man appears before me. My lips curl in a snarl, and I throw a blast of magic at him. It should have melted the flesh from his bones, but it instead deflects off a powerful shield. He pounds his staff into the ground and shoots up until he is as tall as a giant. His long beard melts away, replaced by a shorter one, along with the wizard’s cloak he wears.
The god looks down at me with his one good eye, the other covered by an eye patch and crossed with a thick scar. Metal armor covers him, and two giant wolves stand snarling at his side. One of the ravens lands on his shoulder, its beady eyes glaring down at me as if I am beneath its notice. “Ravensly Tamasvi.”
His thunderous voice brings the battle to an abrupt halt, and I wince both at the use of my former name and from the raw power radiating from him. Raising my chin, I meet his eye defiantly. I refuse to quiver in front of the All-Father. “Odin.”
His face hardens at my familiarity. He can shove his staff up his ass, I will not bow before him. He takes a menacing step toward me, the earth trembling beneath him. “You imprisoned my son. You cursed my granddaughters. You stole my ravens. Beg me for my forgiveness, and I may yet let you live.”
A hush comes over the field, all eyes trained on us. Various scenarios race through my mind, none working in my favor. The sour taste of bile rises in my throat at the thought of retreating, but it is better to live to fight another day than to die like a dog at the feet of the gods. I rose up once before, and I can do so again. Even if it takes another two hundred years.
I take a hesitant step back, then another. Odin watches me with a narrowed eye, his lips pressed in a fine line. The raven on his shoulder cocks its head when arms wrap around my waist from behind, startling me. A long-forgotten voice whispers, “Going so soon, love?”
Ripping myself out of his arms, I turn, shaking my head in disbelief. “No,” I mutter. Prince Khallan glares at me in the same beautifully haughty way he used to so long ago. He fairly reeks of royalty and privilege, something I had always coveted for myself. I didn’t want to be Ravensly Tamasvi, daughter of farmers—even as a young child I knew my destiny was meant for much greater things.
But for him to stand here means he was released from the mirror. I press my eyelids closed, then snap them open. This was a distraction. I should have listened to my instincts, a mistake I will not make again. Lowering my head, I feign submission while I draw as much power as I can into myself. My breaths come faster and faster, and my body begins to rock gently with the force.
“Nothing to say?” Khallan mocks.
I twist my shoulders, then crack my neck before throwing my arms out, releasing the magic in a tidal wave. But nothing happens. I freeze in disbelief, deep lines knitting my brow as my gaze runs over the hundreds of people behind Odin. They appear to be frozen in place, as if time has stopped. My death creatures explode in a shower of dust, and my magnificent dragon falls from the sky, landing harmlessly amongst the trees.
The gods and Valkyries watch me impassively, and Khallan’s low chuckle scrapes against me like nails on a chalkboard. I clutch at the remaining dregs of magic, demanding they revive. But after expelling so much, there is almost nothing left. My mind spins, unable to accept defeat. Spotting my puppets in the distance, I use the last of my strength, pulling my magic out of them. It might just be enough.
King Silas
