Page 108
Story: Gods' Battleground
“But Sierra is also a toddler,” I continued with a small, tight smile. “Do you know how annoying it is to be stuck in the body of a toddler, Mordon? Your arms and legs are so short. You’re always tired. And moody. You won’t be able to see anythingeither. Your soldiers will have to carry you around piggyback-style.” I paused to give him time to picture it, then said, “That doesn’t sound very dignified.”
“I see your point.” He frowned. “And so you’re offering yourself to me as a replacement, just like that?” He clapped his hands together once. The sound echoed in the hollow chamber. “You would give up your free will? You would give up everything?”
“To save my daughter, yes,” I said with a nod, “I would do anything.”
“Hmm, I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, your body is nice.” His eyes panned up me.
Nero growled.
Mordon gave him a quick, smug smile before returning his attention to me. “And your magic is nice too. It’s just not as nice as Sierra’s.” His gaze searched the throne room. “By the way, where is the little cupcake?”
“Not here.” I sank a lot of ice into those two words. “This is between you and me.”
Mordon casually sat himself down upon my throne. “Oh, I’d hardly say that’s true, Leda. After all, your daughter is the whole reason that we’re talking right now.” He stretched out his fingers—and, with relish, slid them over the throne’s smooth, metallic armrests.
“Then talk,” I barked. “And stop wasting my time pretending that you haven’t already made up your mind.”
Mordon shifted his weight, lounging across the throne at a sideways angle. “I really would prefer your daughter’s body.” He braced one leg against the armrest, crossing the other leg over it. “Yours just isn’t the same.”
“It’s more powerful than the one you’ve got now,” I pointed out.
“You’re right about that.” He spun on his butt to face forward, then hopped off the throne. “Very well then. I accept your offer.” He reached toward me.
I took a step back. “First you must swear to cease your nightmare attacks on Sierra.”
“Yes, yes,” Mordon said impatiently. “Now give me your body.” He waved me forward.
I drew in a deep, steadying breath and, silencing the frightened voices in my head, moved toward him.
He unravelled the silver bracelet chain wrapped around his arm. “Hold very still,” he commanded me. “The more you move—the more you resist—the more this is going to hurt.”
The bracelet chain was still half-wrapped around his arm. He twisted the loose part around mine a few times, then started to chant. I didn’t understand the words, but I could tell they were magical. There was something in that chain, something so powerful, so ancient—almost primordial—that it even worked on the Guardians, despite their magic-nullifying abilities.
What could even do something like that?
Mordon’s chanting grew louder, faster. I felt light—and lightheaded—like I was floating out of my body. Then something hit me hard and sudden, like a meteor, slamming me through the floor. But I hadn’t moved. I couldn’t move. The magic chain had completely paralyzed me.
Mordon’s chanting was so deafening that I couldn’t hear anything else anymore. My pulse pounded. With. Every. Single. Syllable.
I was drowning, being pushed deeper and deeper underwater. I couldn’t see, couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. Instinct took over. I struggled and squirmed…except I couldn’t struggle. And I couldn’t squirm. I couldn’t move at all.
I wasn’t in control anymore.
“Well then,” I heard Mordon say in my voice.
I felt my lips move, but I wasn’t moving them.
He spoke again. “This is certainly new.”
He uncoiled the chain from Vertigo’s arm, securing it around mine. Then he shoved her back like a spent, useless husk. She tumbled to the ground, limp, unmoving.
Thankfully, she wasn’t dead. I’d felt her pulse throbbing through the chain. And I could hear her heart beating even now.
Stash lifted Vertigo off the ground, carrying her away.
“This is magnificent!” Mordon exclaimed with glee, spinning on the spot. “I never knew anything could feel like this.” He rubbed his hands down his new body—mybody.
I tried to find my way out of the dark box he’d stuck me in, but I didn’t see any way back to the light.
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