Page 184 of Fallacies

No sound of struggle follows, no crack of breaking bones, no bitter smell of blood.

How Salem killed her is a mystery, but the Countess is good and dead when he steps into view, her body hanging limp over his shoulder. He tosses her carelessly onto the fire, like she’s nothing more than a sack of grain.

The Hound steps back as the flames consume her, moving to stand beside me. “Hotter,” he urges.

Pain lances through me, searing my insides. “I’m. Trying,” I grit out, the temperature in the room climbing.

Outside the window, my coven is still holding their distraction, the explosions bursting erratically, splintering across the sky and flashing bright red through the windows. By now, everyone who fled the Estate should be charging through the woods, searching for the source of the attack. We need them as far north as possible for as long as possible.

We need these bodies to burn faster.

I’ve never felt a fire so hot, even with my strenuous effort to keep the heat contained, and I have the sinking feeling that I’ll have to surrender myself to it—let it take what it needs for it to do what I want.

The last time I relinquished full control of my magic was in a lesson with Delia, when I murdered an entire field of wildflowers. Mass destruction isn’t what I need, but letting the monster go did come with massive power.

And massive power is the only way we’ll make it to the dungeons on time.

The only way.

Without giving myself time to second-guess it, I let go.

One second I’m loosening my grip, and in the next I’m being absorbed by the power I’d been controlling.

Heat and pain strain on my body, stretching my muscles into something new, blotting out my vision and stealing every square inch of my insides.

The next thing I’m aware of is being lifted in the air and yanked forward so fast that my head slams into a hard shoulder.

I hear an explosion different than the ones erupting outside. This is a crack and a crumbling of stone. The heavy thud of beams falling and the snap of wooden furniture.

I manage to lift my head, and squinting through thick black smoke, I see singe marks on the wall above the fireplace, stretching all the way to the broken ceiling.

The room lay in shambles, the chandelier shattered in the center of the floor, and all of that beautiful furniture lay in pieces. And my skin…my skin is burning.

My body jerks again, and my boot-clad feet are set on hard ground. A hand comes up over my mouth and nose, and my first instinct is to panic. But when my vision focuses on familiar blue eyes, alight with that supernatural glow, I have enough awareness to grab onto his arm.

“Hang on,” I hear him say, a deep blue mist blurring through the smoke. I feel a hand between my shoulder blades, holding me upright, and as his cerulean world surrounds us, I pray to every god—including him—that the fire reached bone.

I can’t be sure how long it takes, but by the time my lungs begin to seize with the need to take a breath, my feet hit solid ground again. The mist fades, and slowly but surely, the dungeon comes into view.

My heart begins beating again. Weak, but a pulse nonetheless. My body is thoroughly wrecked, spent on all sides, and each breath I inhale is tight in my ribs.

“No more Sol magic,” Salem instructs, waiting until I’ve pulled my hand away to release me. “Lucina, did you hear what I said?”

I nod, peeling my tongue off the roof of my mouth as I attempt deeper breaths.

“Rogue from here on out.”

“I got it,” I force out, becoming more lucid by the second. Reason and awareness seep back into me, just in time for a crowbar to be tossed at my face.

I manage to catch it, barely, glaring daggers back at Salem as he turns with a crowbar of his own. “Get started on those cages, and I’ll work on this side,” he says.

The long stares of the Sol waiting at their bars widen impossibly further as the Hound approaches. Chains rattle as they scramble away from the locks on the doors, and I eye my crowbar, still in firm disagreement that this is the best way to go about it.

Upon further inspection of the cages during our last visit here, Salem figured out that each lock has a different key. Given that he doesn’t have enough magic to Snare each Sol out of their cage, our options were to either delay the rescue and try to hunt down each key, or force the locks open with⁠—

Salem brings his crowbar down on the first lock he sees. He pulls, leveraging his weight, and the chain snaps a heartbeat later. He moves on to the next.

I’m a little peeved at how easy he made it look, but at least I know it’s possible.