Page 132 of Of Shadows and Blood

The fact that this is happening means everyone else did not make it. A quick scan, because I can’t look away for too long, just shows bodies everywhere. A few are being dragged half-alive towards a wagon in the south. The assailants snicker and close in.

Avonde.

Serene.

Poe.

The generals.

Where are they?

My heel hits another body laying with a short sword. Stupidly, I drop my long sword as I crouch, eyes still trained on those approaching. They’re predators playing with their prey. My hand finds the hilt and I realize with dread then that I cannot carry it. This short sword is twice the weight of my other blade. My elbow gives out and the group laughs at me. A boot from behind kicks me down, presses me into the cold, wet, earth. The sun above scorches my skin.

Another foot kicks the weapon out of my grip as I thrash and scream. Anything to avoid this. A face levels with mine, bald and missing far too many teeth to be acceptable. I spit on him, too. He punches me square in the face.

I smile and spit again, blood this time.

“Put a sack on her head,” he orders, rising.

“Go to hell,” I snarl.

“And knock her ass out.”

The boot releases from my back and I see it in my peripheral coming for the final blow. If they take me to a second location, I’m dead.

An ember, a kernel of energy within me, the place where I envision my magic – it rumbles. There is no other way to describe it. Clarity. A thorough knowing washes over me because that can only mean one thing.

It is as though Senna has given me a gift.

On instinct, I scream a deadly, guttural scream. One full of a metaphysical energy coming from within. That kernel giving in to my pleas. From my fingers to my toes, I feel my body heat up. I know flames are licking off my body. I am fire embodied. The boot next to me is no longer there. I roll onto my side and that’s when I see the world ablaze around me. The assailants, those who survived my initial release, are running doused in flame. They’re doing everything to rid themselves of the heat and I pity them.

So, I extend my hand in each of their directions, lighting them more completely. Better to be done with it. Everything in me is scorching a beautiful, most welcome burn. I will burn them all.

They will pay.

My magic speaks to me, whispering within and without. It is with me as I am with it. I begin to walk towards the crowd of soldiers running towards me with their weapons high. A general is screaming orders. I lash my arc towards him, knocking his body from the steed he rode. In that moment, the wave of soldiers pauses. I keep walking. My clothes have burnt from me, I see now I am naked but not in a sense that matters. The goddess has gifted me her fire and I will wear it without shame. Let them see. Let them see that a woman ended their tyranny.

I smile, and I hope it looks as wicked as I feel.

No, not wicked. Powerful.

The group of them drop their weapons and apparate into the forest, their screams echoing into the pine surrounding the now fallen fort. I haven’t mastered it, but the opportunity to chase them thrills me. I take a few more steps towards the tree line when I sense him.

Killian steps onto the field, a small group of gilded soldiers behind him. Lux’s remaining soldiers and cess reform their shaken line as others try to pull bodies from the rubble.

In my right hand, flames lick and writhe around my fingers. In my left, a small cyclone of air bubbles whirls. I can’t direct the fickle tunnel to the destruction, to help the cess. It would inflame the situation and I can’t connect with the fires to recall them. My core tenses and I try again to reclaim my fires as Killian turns his attention to me.

There is fire everywhere. I created fire everywhere, and now I cannot stop it.

The cess prowl forward, stopping in front of the lines formed by Poe’s men where I see him drag his sword to the front. Rolan’s soldiers snicker and lift their own weapons.

“What a show,” Killian sings, tucking his hands behind his back. “I see you found some of your power. Beautiful display. He will be pleased.”

I crawl behind a singed wagon, pulling a cloak from a downed enemy soldier. I ignore the blood and stench as I fasten it around my neck. His sword is cracked at the top, but I pull it with me too.

“Ready!” Poe orders, raising his shield. Where are the reinforcements? Where are the soldiers from Krue?

I scan the small group assembled and recognize a face. A servant from Orvynn. A servant turned soldier or…