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“Even if you succeed in unleashing this tool, there are others to claim.”
“Your days of claiming are done. Once I’ve finished here, I’m coming for you,” she promised.
“Stubborn, just like Laurella. You make this harder than necessary. She, too, fought fate, and because of it, died,” the possessor stated.
“You’re going to kill me?” Fionna taunted. “Come on then, I’m right here.”
The thing in Lomar’s body trembled, quivered but didn’t move. It snarled, “You think yourself so clever and yet you came here alone. As planned. As predicted.”
“I’m not alone,” Fionna declared. “I’ve got the warlord with me and he’s mightier than your pathetic army.”
“How strong is he?” the thing hissed. “Shall we find out?”
A shudder and groan of stone had Kormac glancing overhead. “What now?” he muttered.
Fionna’s lips tightened. “Whatever it is, you have to distract it long enough for me to sever the threads binding Lomar.”
Leave her alone with the thing? He didn’t want to, but duty screamed he had no choice.
And so he went out into the recently fallen night, a warlord with just a sword against the large, feathered beast cawing in the sky.
“We’ll be having fowl for supper,” he declared as he beckoned the monster.
It came screeching for him, claws out, beak clacking.
Even better, it landed in the courtyard within reach.
Kormac smiled. With that mistake, he already knew he’d won.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Kormac left to handle the threat outside and Fionna could have sighed with relief. At least he wouldn’t be here to see if she failed. Fionna feared they’d made a mistake. The thing nesting in Lomar’s body oozed confidence despite being wrapped in magic to keep him from moving.
The creature remained undaunted, a slight smirk on its lips. “You’re just delaying the inevitable. Come to me, and it doesn’t have to hurt.”
“Whatever you want of me, I refuse to take part.”
“Such a strong spirit. It will taste ever so sweet when I break it.”
She ignored its words, recognizing it taunted to delay and distract. She pulled some items from her satchel: An iron spool, which she clutched in one hand, and a stone jar with its lid, which she set on the floor.
“What’s this?”
She didn’t reply but pulled out her silver-bladed scissors. A deep breath in and out dropped her into the trance-like state she needed to see Lomar’s aura. It remained bound in those dark threads, a tight yet undulating weave seemingly imperviousexcept for one miniscule spot. She located the tiny gap and reached for it with her scissors, wedging them in.
Snip.
“What are you doing?” Finally, some alarm entered its voice.
She ignored it and concentrated on the loose strands she’d created with the cut. She grabbed one and could have hissed at the cold that radiated from it. Ignoring her discomfort, she wrapped it around the iron spool and began twisting, rolling and turning the spindle, removing the dark thread bit by bit.
The creature didn’t like it.
“You waste your time, witch,” it hissed.
“Then why are you complaining?” she muttered as she kept spinning. The weave around the body remained thick, but already showed slight gaps. Lomar’s inner light began to shine through those cracks, only for a moment before the thread she held jerked.
The spool tore free from her grip. It hit the floor and she scrambled for it, cursing under her breath to see some of her progress undone as the thread rewound around the body. She grabbed hold of the spool to halt it, grunting as she tried to regain control, but the dark thread fought.
