The other elders back away from Melevin quickly, averting their eyes.
“You attack me with my own magic?” I hiss through clenched teeth. “I am a god, and you are nothing.”
His breath hitches as he crumples the white fabric over his chest in his fingers, then drops to his knees. “Please, you were going to kill me. I—I’m an elder. Dahryst needs me.”
“You are what I decide you are,” I shout, then glance from him to the others. “Look at him!” I order. Their gazes return to Melevin, who is slumped on the ground, his heart racing so fast I wonder if it may stop before I can destroy him. “This is what happens when you question me.”
Ribbons of glittering darkness shoot from my fingers and the elder pushes himself backwards in a futile attempt to escape me. He scrambles to his feet, and my shadows snatch around his body like vicious vipers, constricting him until he is unable to move. He begs the others elders for help, but his pleas fall upon deaf ears. Twin wisps of darkness leap through the air, striking and sinking into his eyes. Urine veins through his robes as his scream rattles the beach. Crimson seeps from his sockets while I push my magic deeper, slicing through bone and muscle alike until he’s choking on his blood. His body collapses onto the sandy ground unceremoniously the moment my shadows release him.
I catch Dephina’s vengeful glare in my peripheral vision, but it quickly fades when I face them. “Clean this up,” I command, not staying long enough to watch his soul leave his broken body. One of my reapers will take over from here.
I walk into the forest, the sound of Vaknor’s sobs quaking from the shoreline. Pathetic. I should have ended them all, but to do so before The Harvest would be counterproductive. Dahryst still needs them, as useless as they might be.
They act as if I am the villain, yet they have overseen these tournaments, murdered countless people, then speak of mercy as soon as it is an inconvenience to them.
I halt on my tracks, goosebumps spreading over my neck as the familiar call of my magic emanates from deep within the forest.
Calista still hasn’t left. Her defiance crawls over my skin.
I descend into the maze of trees, veering off the beaten path and toward the abandoned house. I reach the house, then throw open the rotting door. Our eyes clash across the large room, hers alight with vengeance.
“You disobey me,” I state, my eyes narrowing on her satchel. “And you have enough poison to kill an army.”
“Or a god.” Challenge threads her blue stare.
I stride over to the formal dining table, stopping a few feet from her. “Such things cannot kill me, Poison, although I would find it amusing to see you try.”
“Perhaps I’ll go to Tenenocti with them,” she baits, and my eyes widen.
Swallowing hard, I force apathy into my expression, despite my racing heart. I stare at her, as if I’m watching the prophecy unfold in front of my eyes. “Your threat is without base,” I retort. “The sacrifices were chosen, and only they can cross the Black Sea.”
“Such lies.” She laughs, and my jaw clenches. “Anyone can cross over tonight.”
“I’m the only one who can dictate who does,” I remind her. “Did you forget that The Black Sea and island are in my domain?”
“I don’t believe you. You’re just trying to stop me from going because you are afraid.”
“You are so very arrogant,” I drawl. “Magic is unique, even in those who hold the same powers as another. Do you not wonder why, when there are three powers that can be inherited within a coven, a witch or warlock only possesses one? The magic chooses them and adapts to who they are. That is why every healer or shadow wielder is different. Our powers bend to their personalities.”
She shrugs, and my nostrils flare. “What does magic have to do with letting the sacrifices cross?”
“Have I rendered you speechless?” she asks, taunting me with a grim smile. “You have no arguments because I am right. I can cross the Black Sea, and I will.”
She is arrogant and reckless, thinking she can easily accomplish this when hundreds before her have failed.
“You must not.” While a part of me wants to watch her drown, panic squeezes in my heart at the thought of Calista trapped in the barriers of my domain, so close to the other gods. “Magic has everything to do with who may pass. The dead will not touch those who possess the sacrifices’ particular trace of magic. Anyone absent from their essence and power will drown.” She doesn’t flinch when I shorten the distance between us, gazing into her eyes. “It is a fool’s errand to attempt to follow them.”
“I hate you,” she growls.
“Good,” I state, because the opposite would be much worse.
“They’re going to be slaughtered. You forced them into this. You care not for mortals like history pretends.”
“I did no such thing. Your sister volunteered for The Choosing, and Drake is a traitor. This punishment is far better than he would have had at the hands of the elders. You should be thanking me.”
She grits her teeth, the scent of Nightmor clinging to her dress. It tickles my nose, and I draw an inch closer. The deadly plants in her satchel, likely worked into each vial, are as beautiful and poisonous as Calista.
“Ari didn’t volunteer,” she states, then takes a step back. “She had no choice. None of us did. If we don’t put our names forth, then we will be outcasts, thrown in Incarcuris for crimes against the church. Against you.” Slowly, she walks toward the front of the house as the afternoon darkens into evening, filtering orange light through the grimy windows. “I never understood why anyone worships you. You send those who praise you to their deaths, then enact some sick revenge on me for having a power I never wanted, and that is as disgusting as you,” she hisses as she opens the door.
Hurt pinches my chest, the words jabbing into me like a knife. The room is a blur as I speed over to her, placing myself between her and the door. Her breaths quicken when I grab her by her throat, squeezing her windpipe. “It is a part of you for a reason,” I spit. “If my magic is so disgusting, then you are rotten, too.”
Her fist connects with my jaw in slow motion, the impact clashing my teeth against my lip. She stumbles out of my grip, smirking. “Fuck you, Azkiel.”
My heart quickens as I drag my thumb across my bloodied lip, then stare at the crimson staining my skin. Pressing my tongue inside my cheek, forming a ball against the skin, a sadistic laugh escapes.
Little by little, I lift my stare to meet hers. “I’m going to kill you.”
She scoffs, her fingertips blackening at the tips. “Oh, make a new threat already.”
A growl resonates as I storm over to her, gripping her arms. “There are other ways I can hurt you,” I promise, my nails digging into her skin. “Your sister, for example,” I say, smiling as fear lights her eyes. “I can always ensure she never makes make it to the island.”
“The people will hate you for it,” she retorts but hesitance wavers in her voice. “I suppose they will finally see their so-called savior of a god for what he truly is—a villain.”
“I do not care what they think of me,” I growl, the taste of blood intensifying every feeling. She is under my skin, like an itch I cannot scratch. I need to be rid of her before her presence drives me to insanity. “You will pay for this.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” she shouts. “Threatening my sister is cowardice. Your fight is with me. So, do your worst.”
“Stupid girl,” I snap, and her shoulders tense. “You threaten me when your family could die because of your actions.”
