Page 120 of Daughter of the Serpent

What did he really want from her? Did he even care?

There were so many mixed emotions she felt - but she had no space to feel them. There was only the burning anger - and she let it fuel her.

Because anger was easier.

It was better than feeling the razor - sharp edges of her grief, the thousand invisible blades carving into her skin, slowly bleeding her dry.

As she approached the target, Sylvie stood poised, her grip tightening on the hilt of her sword. With a deep breath, she launched into a series of swift strikes, each movement fluid and precise. Her muscles tensed and flexed with every swing, the sound of metal slicing through the air punctuating the quiet stillness of the surrounding forest. As she moved, her focus was unwavering, her mind fully immersed in the rhythm of her training. She pivoted on her heels, her footwork graceful and calculated, as she delivered a flurry of blows to thetarget.

The thud of blade against wood echoed through the clearing as she landed blow after blow, her strikes growing faster and more forceful with each passing moment. Beads of sweat glistened on her brow, her breath coming in steady, measured intervals as she pushed herself to the limit. With a final, powerful strike, Sylvie drove her blade deep into the wooden target, the force of her blow sending splinters flying in all directions. She stood for a moment, chest heaving, as she surveyed the damage she had wrought.

In that moment, amidst the quiet of the training grounds, Sylvie felt a sense of satisfaction wash over her. For one singular moment, she had escaped her mind and the events that had taken place, and she was free - lost in the movement of her body, the thrum of her blade.

Yet in a flash it was gone, and the pain that had momentarily left her heart reinhabited her bones. She lashed out again, her sword thrashing against the wood in a burst of rage. A scream gathered in her throat, and as she bore down her blade it escaped its prison. She couldn't stop, she couldn’t relent. The target fell to the ground, her blade chopping it into splinters that frayed and scattered around her.

Mave.

Sweet innocent Mave.

She would never grow up.

She would never breathe again.

Her hands grew hot causing her to drop her sword, a sudden surge of emotion swelled again, fueling her magic. In one moment light burst from them in a steam stream of liquid fire, blasting the target into pieces. The magical flames scattered, sending embers dancing along the dirt all while the target burned, flames reaching higher, curling towards the gods, like in her dream. Her eyes darted to the temple, and the flames followed her gaze, creating a trail of fire that followed her command.

“What are you doing?” A voice, clipped and urgent, sliced through her thoughts. Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her backward. The flames suddenly died, disappearinglike they had never existed at all. “That’s enough!” a low voice murmured near her ear, steady as stone.

“Let mego!” Her body wreathed against him.

“No,” His arms bound her against the hard wall of muscle that was his body. “I will not let you go until you calm yourself.”

Her body pulsed with anger, rage pouring out of her in a relentless torrent. She kicked out, she punched backward, her hand plummeting against his leathers.

“You stopped me!” She cursed. “You let herdie!”

Tears clawed their way to the surface of her eyes, the raw wound exposed and aching in his arms. Her voice came out in a ragged and desperate sob.“Why did you stop me?”

“Sylvie…” Her name escaped Axel’s lips, low and unexpectedly tender, threaded with an empathy that was unfamiliar. His arms loosened slightly, allowing her to twist to face him, but he didn’t let go. “I’m sorry.”

The words caught her off guard, and she blinked through a blur of tears, searching his face.

“I could have saved her!” Her fists struck his chest, desperation surging through every hit. “I could have done something,anything.”

Her rage was uncontainable, spilling out in each strike, her voice cracking with the weight of her fury. His hands tightened around her shoulders, anchoring her, his gaze steady as her emotions battered against him.

“I know,” he said softly, his grip strong enough to stop her from unraveling, but never harsh. “But at what cost?”

Her chest heaved, her breath rough, her hands trembling against him. But he didn’t let her go, only held her with a steadiness that, for a brief moment, was more infuriating than her own helplessness.

“What would that have done?” He asked earnestly, his eyes soft but as fierce as ever as they locked onto hers. “In trying to save her, you would have only condemned you and her, both. They would have killed you, or locked you away with your mother in the square. I did what I did, to keep you from such a fate.”

He brushed a stray tear - soaked strand of hair from her cheek, his hand lingering for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Forgive me.”

Her eyes never left his, and despite the pain gnawing at her chest, she saw the earnestness in his eyes - the truth, without deception.

“I can’t stand by and do nothing, Axel. Iwon’t.” Sylvie’s eyes turned dark, a strange pulsing heat radiating through her as the words came free from her mouth, unbidden. “I will not stand aside while they commit such injustice, such cruelty!”

He pulled her closer, until her head arrested on his chest, her cheek brushing along his smooth yet worn leathers. Tears flowed down her cheeks like rivers, unchecked, unbidden. She could no longer pretend. She could no longer say everything was right - when everything was so wrong.