Tearing myself away from her, I focus on the crowd of those devoted to me, hoping to calm the beast inside, clawing to escape and destroy her. “Tonight, I return to Dahryst to present you with your chosen sacrifices. Being a sacrifice is an honor, a tradition that has protected Dahryst from our enemies. From those chosen this night, one will serve as your next elder.”
Calista’s scoff draws me back to her again, the stone crumbling under my grip as she holds onto Drake, her hands gliding over his arm.
Swallowing hard, I release the basin before I unintentionally pulverize the stone and cast my gaze to the other sacrifices. Now, their eyes are on me, some filled with awe and admiration, others quivering with fear. I continue, avoiding noticing her, even as her blue eyes shine with determination behind the thin, black veil. I exhale a tense breath as she moves in the corner of my vision, plucking a berry from her hair, then bringing it to Drake’s lips.
“Enough!” I shout, and the atmosphere changes, several candles blowing out in rapid succession as I struggle to contain my shadows and darkness. Quickly, I close my eyes, attempting to collect myself, then place my hands over the basin. “Enough of hiding from the humans,” I say, correcting my outburst, but my heart pounds.
I can’t think of anything but her, hatred consuming every thought. Her actions shouldn’t bother me, but they do. Everything about her infuriates me. “Tonight, you shall take back your power, harvesting our magic for the next generation.”
I place my fingers over the dried blood in the basin, and I channel Nyxara’s magic to weave the names from the essence of those who offered themselves.
Sight magic consumes me as the crimson stains my fingertips. The faces of those lined up, slicing their fingers, appear in my mind. Including Calista.
The names appear in smoke in my head as Nyxara’s magic presents them to me, but I force the vision away.
My stare clashes with Calista’s, and I smirk at the flicker of fear threading her eyes. “Drake Redding.”
A gasp slips from her parted lips, and she holds Drake tighter, her cheeks drained of color.
The traitor is freed, but I refuse to allow him to continue to breathe.
I lift my chin as she glares at me. Checkmate.
Her eyes remained glued to me, her chest heaving, until Drake turns to her, breaking our eye contact, and whispers words I cannot hear. After a few seconds, he steps forward. His fists ball at his side as I prepare to call the other names. I hope he dies first in The Harvest.
I list the others chosen from Nyxara’s magic, masquerading it as my own, as they appear to me in a mist.
“Alaric Varwarn.”
A muscular man, appearing to be around my age, steps forward and Drake stands up beside him. Alaric’s willingness is a pleasant surprise as he nods in my direction, then bows his head. When I notice the subtle black in his eyes, showing his powers to the God of Will, I almost smile. Drake stands little chance against him.
“Elenore Amenbore,” I announce as the second name presents itself to me.
A young girl joins them, tears sliding from under her veil, her chest heaving in sobs. It’s quite clear that she will be at a disadvantage, and we are supposed to only choose the strong to compete.
I call the rest of the names as they are presented in my mind, each one stepping into the line until there are eleven. Then, the image of Calista standing by the stone basin, next to a blonde girl, appears in my mind. I shove away the vision before it can finish. Despite being dormant, my sister’s magic urges me to summon a name in the mist, but I resist and instead concentrate on the girl beside Calista in the vision. My eyes close briefly, and I attempt to recall her name. Surprisingly, her name materializes in my mind, in the same mist the others were chosen from.
“Arabella Bellevue.”
“No!” A scream tears from Calista’s throat, and an unexpected ache knots in my stomach. I had expected this, only more with my announcement of Drake, not over the blonde.
Vaknor leaves the platform, flying through the center of the church, his robes flapping behind him.
Calista grits her teeth, her chest still as she holds her breath. When I blink, she’s running toward me. “You fucking monster!”
Drake grabs her arm, pulling her back, while Vaknor runs and grabs her other arm. She wrestles against them both as they barely contain her.
“I’m going to kill you,” she yells, and I chuckle darkly.
She really is intriguing, attempting this in the middle of a church filled with those who worship me, but she’s dragged through the vestibule before she can try.
SIXTEENCalista
“I’m going to murder him,” I shout at my father as he restrains me in the outer building of the church. “Let me go!”
His hands hold me in place on a chair, pinning me against the wood. Baring my teeth, I try to kick forward, mustering all my strength, but it is nothing against the mighty strength of the God of Will my father harnesses.
It is like fighting a bear. For the first time, I wonder how my father killed whoever wielded Volan’s incredible strength and speed and took their power. I’ve seldom seen him use his powers in person.
“Stop fighting me,” he orders, but I shake my head, wrestling against him despite knowing it is futile. I refuse to be restrained, not when that asshole has condemned the two people I love most to death.
“I will kill him,” I shout.
My father’s brows crease, his lips parting as a flash, or concern melts the hardness in his expression. “Are you delusional, girl? You cannot kill the God of Death. He is the embodiment of it.”
“Then I will hurt him another way,” I say, as anger clouds my logic.
His emotions shift, much like the magic he wields, and it is Astraea’s power that takes over. Her magic seeps into my skin from my father’s fingers, soothing my aura against my will. “We can’t save Arabella from this fate,” he admits. “We can only prepare her.”
I bare my teeth as the tranquility, woven from Astraea’s dream magic, softens my movements, hazing my thoughts. “If I destroy Death, then I can stop this. I will stop this,” I say, my voice waning.
Wild-eyed, he watches me with caution, as if I were a wild viper that may strike him at any moment. “You are as likely to destroy him as you are to sink Tenenocti into the depths of the Black Sea.”
“Then I shall sink the island and everyone on it,” I scream, tears flowing down my cheeks.
“Enough with this foolishness,” he warns.
We both whip our heads when the door slams open, and Azkiel enters, his silver eyes focused on me.
