Page 182 of Fallacies

I keep the knife raised in her direction, eyeing the shackle dangling from my wrist, searching for some indication of how to remove it. There’s a spot for a key—which I don’t have. If I had some time, I might be able to squeeze out of the metal, but I don’t have any of that either.

Anger simmers in the Rogue’s eyes, and with a roar her hands come up, shadows bursting from the corners. It’s an avalanche of them, barreling straight for me.

I dart backwards, grabbing at the cuff around my wrist, twisting and turning, doing everything I can to slip it off.

Dark magic races across the marble floor, faster than I can run from it.

I yank on the shackle, groaning when my thumb cracks. The unforgiving metal breaks skin, but it still won’t give.

I’m as magicless as I was before Aura’s Crossing. As helpless as I was being yanked under by a riptide.

My back hits a wall right as the shadows reach me, the frigid bite of them burning through my clothes, climbing up my legs and circling my torso. I swallow against the scream crawling up my throat, pulling with all my might on the magic-stealing metal.

The Rogue hurls more in my direction, yellow eyes so bright their golden hue reflects off the marble floor.

I grit my teeth as her shadows twist around my neck, tightening until my oxygen supply is cut. With nothing left to do, I funnel all my remaining focus into the shackle, tears springing to my eyes at the feel of flesh ripping and joints cracking.

She roars again, gearing up for what I’m sure will be my death blow, and with one final desperate tug, my hand slips free.

Magic floods my veins like a river. A damn cracking open.

I reach straight for my father’s magic, rip open the floodgates, and absorb every shadow in the hall.

All those strangling my body loosen, slipping off my neck and sliding down my legs. Just as I did with the fire on the three-headed snake in Albatross, I absorb every darkened tendril of it.

But it doesn’t charge me as the fire did, or the lightning.

It doesn’t burn me up. It ices my veins.

Everything bright within me is wiped away, smothered by darkness, and for a moment, however fleeting, it feels good to feel nothing. Great, even.

The woman stumbles backwards, eyes wide, darting her attention between her hands and me, confused as to how they betrayed her.

She reaches for something in her boot but isn’t able to reveal it as I send ropes of midnight black slithering across the floor. They strike like snakes, latching onto her limbs.

One on each wrist.

One on each ankle.

One wrapped tightly around her neck.

I close my hand into a tight fist, and her eyes bulge. This time when she looks at me, it isn’t anger…It’s horror. A different kind of scared. Like she isn’t as afraid of dying as she is of me. Like death, in her eyes, might now be a mercy.

I jerk my wrist back, and a crack sounds.

Her head slumps forward as her body sags against my restraints.

Only when I’m certain that she’s dead do I release my hold, smoke and shadows scurrying back to my side.

Her body falls to the floor.

After a few heaving breaths, I force my feet to move. Stepping over Trig and the pool of blood surrounding him, I toss the shackle to the ground and stumble the rest of the way down the hall.

I can feel my body wanting to slip into a state of shock, but I urge against it. I don’t have time to panic or second-guess or feel remorse.

This night is only going to get gorier.

I remind myself of the cause as I limp to the Countess’s quarters. I imagine a hundred freed Sol, making the trek to the Banyan beneath an unhindered sun. I imagine their wrists to be chainless and their faces bright, and by the time I make it to the door and push my way inside, I’ve rekindled my fight.