Page 6 of Broken Fates (Severed Flames #3)

Chapter 6

Vale

T he mages closed in, violet eyes flaring beneath their hoods, eerie halos of light flickering in the snowfall.

Their power slithered through the air—an unnatural, festering thing, thick with hunger and coiling around me like smoke.

I’d barely survived one mage, and now I faced a damn army of them. Their magic burned, but it wasn’t mine. It wasn’t the searing fire of Rune, nor the sharp-edged blade of Xavier’s flames. It was different—twisted, predatory, hungry.

My pulse hammered in my chest, so loud they could probably hear it. I curled my fingers around the reins, my breath sharp and fast. Magic burned under my skin, twisting at my fingertips, aching to break free. I refused to wait. If I hesitated, I’d die.

And if I was going down, I would take as many of them with me as I could.

The first bolt of magic shot toward me, a jagged spike of violet light. I twisted in the saddle, throwing up a shield of my own. My power met theirs in a clash of force, the impact rattling through my bones.

Another mage lunged.

Lashing out in a searing arc of light, fiery power burst from my palm, crackling through the frost-thickened air. It slammed into the closest mage’s chest. The blast sent him flying backward, his cloak igniting as he crashed into the snow, his body limp, unmoving.

I barely had time to see if he was dead before two more rushed me. No hesitation. No fear.

Vetra reared, hooves striking out. A sickening crunch echoed in the night. A mage crumpled, his bones shattering from the force. I twisted my body, gripping the reins with one hand while throwing out a second blast of magic with the other.

One went down screaming. The other—faster than I expected—dodged and retaliated with a flick of his wrist. Something thin, dark, and needle-sharp sliced through the night, aimed at my chest. A bolt of searing magic punched through flesh as white-hot pain ripped through my upper arm.

Vetra screeched with rage, rearing higher. I clenched my thighs, holding on for dear life as agony dug deep into my bones. It wasn’t a normal wound. The magic burrowed into my flesh as my muscles seized.

Shit.

I bit down hard, fighting back against the invasive power, shoving it out, rejecting it as I called for my own. I couldn’t let it take root, but that arm was useless, the reins falling from my limp fingertips. I tossed out a feeble arch of light, but another bolt came.

A second.

A third.

I dodged the first, deflected the second with my dying magic, but the third hit home. Pain exploded in my ribs, knocking the breath from my lungs as it flung me from my seat. I hit the temple steps hard, the impact rattling my entire body as I tried and failed to suck in air.

No. No. Not like this.

Vetra reared with a furious bellow, lashing out again as she did her best to protect me, but I felt it. The mages were closing in.

A putrid wave of violet magic wrapped around my wrists like thorned ropes, cutting into my flesh. Magic burned through my skin, constricting, squeezing?—

My fingers locked as it wrapped up my arms, around my shoulders and down my torso. A scream tore up my throat when my power wouldn’t rise, but before I could let it out, it was cut off by a boot in my damaged ribs.

Breathe. Gods, breathe.

Vetra’s cry shattered the night, the mare lashing out as her front hooves struck the nearest mage. Bone crunched. A man hit the ground, shrieking as his leg bent the wrong way.

She wasn’t running.

She was fighting for me.

“Hold the damn horse!” someone snarled.

Another mage threw out his hands. A lash of violet magic snapped through the air, wrapping around Vetra’s neck like a leash. She reared violently, fighting the restraint, her muscles bunching beneath her coat.

She shrieked—a sound of rage, of fear.

“Easy now, beast,” the mage sneered, digging the spell deeper. “We’ll take you, too. A little gift for the king.”

No, no, no.

A mage loomed above me, taller than the rest, power curling from his hands in putrid ribbons as he let out a low, satisfied chuckle.

“There we go,” he murmured, his voice a slick, oily thing, slipping under my skin like poison.

He tilted his head, studying me like a cat would a wounded bird.

“You both put up a fight. I’ll give you that.”

Vetra let out a strangled cry. She jerked against the spell, her muscles trembling, hooves tearing at the ground as she tried to break free.

But the magic tightened.

The leash yanked her down.

She hit her knees, panting, violet bands digging into her flesh.

He crouched, the glow of his eyes searing against the dark. “But really—did you think you’d win?”

I bared my teeth, straining against the magic pinning me down.

The mage’s grin widened. “Don’t bother, little queen.” He gave the binding a sharp tug—the magic burned deeper, locking me down. “You’re out of tricks. And out of time.”

Another soldier stalked forward, sneering. “All that trouble to get here—just to get dragged right back.”

My stomach clenched. They weren’t going to kill me. They were going to take me.

The first mage ran a finger along my cheek, his touch leaving a trail of static in its wake. “Our King will be pleased. He thought you’d make this harder, but in the end…”

His fingers clenched around my jaw, forcing me to look up.

“You’re just another stupid little girl who thought she could play queen.”

Rage flashed hot and wild in my chest, and I did the only thing I could. I spat in his face. His eyes flared, violet magic snapping around him like a living thing before the bastard backhanded me.

Pain exploded across my cheekbone, my head snapping to the side.

“I was going to be gentle,” he said, mock disappointment dripping from his voice. “I figured—maybe you weren’t as foolish as they said.”

His fingers dug into my throat. “But now?”

He smiled. A cruel, bloodthirsty thing. “I think I’ll break you first.”

His magic snaked up my throat, twisting like vines around my neck. The air vanished as I choked.

Vision blurring, lungs burning, the violet light tightened?—

Then the air changed.

The wind died, and the snow stilled midair. Vetra stiffened, her ears pricking forward. The mages froze, their glowing eyes snapping up, nostrils flaring. One of them barked a warning, but the words barely left his mouth before a shadow blurred across the field.

Not a shadow—a nightmare.

The first mage vanished. No scream. No body. Just gone .

Magic crashed through the clearing like a tidal wave as the temperature plummeted. Frost crept along the stone, the air turning razor-sharp with ice. And then fire swept over everything.

But not red.

Not orange.

Blue.

Xavier.

His magic unleashed like a storm, erupting from his hands in an inferno of frost. The blue fire swallowed the first wave of soldiers, freezing their armor, locking them in place as shards of ice dug into them like knives.

One stumbled, but Xavier was already there. His blade sliced through the air, and ice crystallized along the wound before the man even hit the ground. And when he did, the mage’s body shattered into a thousand pieces.

Xavier’s magic was different—it felt different. Sharper. Stronger. The curse was gone, and now his power was something so much more than it had been before.

The mage nearby turned, his eyes going wide—seeing something I couldn’t. He froze, stumbling back, shaking his head. It was only when I saw Kian reveal himself from the shadows that I understood.

The mage was under one of Kian’s illusions. Kian’s magic twisted around him, wrapping the soldier in a waking nightmare. His breathing hitched, hands clawing at his throat—then Kian was on him.

One strike from his sword, quick and final, and then the mage’s head was on the ground.

Then there was Idris.

I didn’t see him, but I could feel him. Magic poured from him like a broken dam, thick as smoke, too heavy to breathe. Then he strode from the trees as the earth cracked beneath his feet. The ice shattered, the trees splintered, and it was as if Hell itself had opened wide and the devil sauntered out.

The remaining mages stumbled, clutching their chests like their magic was being ripped from their bodies.

One dropped to his knees as his violet magic was yanked from his body. Then another fell and another—their power withering in his presence. The noose around my neck loosened as their power died, and I finally understood.

Idris didn’t wield magic.

He was magic.

The golden glow flowed from his hands, his skin, his mouth—too bright, too raw. I’d never seen anything like it. Neither had the Girovians. But the last mage didn’t fall like the others. He resisted, bracing himself against the pulsing waves of golden light pouring from Idris’ body.

“You think you’re a god?” he scoffed.

The words barely left his lips before Idris lifted a single hand.

A pull. A breath.

The mage’s body locked up, violet magic bleeding from his pores, screaming as it was ripped from his chest.

I hadn’t so much as moved, but my body still shook as I sucked in glorious air, pain and exhaustion hitting me full force as the adrenaline flooded from my body.

Magic still lingered in the air—thick, crackling, electric.

It clung to my skin, wormed through my veins, gripping my bones like unseen chains. Not the enemy’s magic. Theirs.

Idris. Kian. Xavier.

I could feel them.

Their power rolled over me, sharp and hungry, like a storm ready to break. It coiled through the clearing, stilling the air, pressing into my skin, into my mind. The mate bond pulsed—too strong, too raw, too close.

My stomach twisted. I tried to shove them out, to lock them away, but the bond had other ideas. It crashed through my defenses, searing through my ribs, my heart, my mind.

They were here. They were furious. And they were trying to get in.

“Vale.” Idris’ voice burned through the link, low and ragged, edged with something sharp. “Vale—look at me.”

I clenched my teeth, swallowing the sharp sting of nausea. “No.”

I didn’t want to look at him. Didn’t want to feel him.

Didn’t want to feel any of them.

Xavier’s magic was still crawling over my skin, healing my wounds, even as my body screamed in protest. My cheek throbbed, my ribs ached, but it was the bond—the connection—that hurt the most.

My fists clenched against the frozen ground. They were too close. Too much. Xavier’s warm hand brushed my cheek. I jerked away, rolling onto my side, dragging in ragged, shaking breaths.

His voice was soft, yet pained. “Vale?—”

“Don’t,” I rasped.

Silence stretched as I curled my knees to my chest, trying to gather the courage to stand.

“We need to get you out of here, little witch,” Kian murmured as his rough, calloused hand pressed to my jaw, forcing my gaze to meet his.

Kian’s amber eyes scanned over me, his pupils dilated with adrenaline, his expression carved from something dangerous. But he wasn’t touching me like I was fragile. He knew better.

I forced myself to sit up, my ribs protesting the movement. My limbs trembled, exhaustion dragging at every muscle.

Then I felt him.

Idris.

Still standing. Still watching. Still waiting.

The bond thrashed within me, desperate to close the space between us. It reached for him without my permission, without my control, and I slammed it down hard enough that pain ricocheted through my skull.

No.

I wouldn’t let him in. His magic pulsed—an ocean pressing against a breaking dam. He stepped closer.

I dragged in a breath. “Don’t.” That single word came out raw, a threadbare whisper.

Idris froze. For a heartbeat, no one moved. The temple loomed behind us, its crumbling walls whispering with the weight of history, of power, of ghosts.

Kian’s grip tightened, his thumb brushing absently over my cheek. “You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Xavier’s voice was quiet but threaded with steel.

Idris exhaled sharply. “Vale?—”

I flinched.

It was small—barely there—but he saw it. They all did. Something flashed across Idris’ face—something dangerous, something shattering. Then it was gone, and I hated that I still knew him well enough to see the way he locked it down.

My throat burned. “You weren’t supposed to come.”

Xavier scoffed. “Do you really think we’d let you go?”

I lifted my gaze, my fury cracking through the exhaustion. “I didn’t ask for your permission.”

Kian’s jaw tightened. “No, you didn’t. You just left.”

The weight of their anger pressed against me, but it was Idris I felt the most. His magic coiled around my bones, slow and deliberate, and I realized—he was still trying to reach me—to touch me through the bond. I gritted my teeth, shoving back against him.

Hard.

A muscle ticked in his jaw, but he didn’t stop. “Vale.”

I laughed. It was harsh, bitter, and broken. And then I said it—the words I knew would cut the deepest. “I’m fixing what I broke, remember?”

He worked his jaw but said nothing. The air cracked like a living thing, magic shifting between us, pressing too tight, too thick.

A warning.

His power flared—reflexive, raw—but then he forced it down.

The words had landed. I knew they had.

Knew the moment his golden eyes darkened, the moment his hands closed into fists at his sides. Knew because that was exactly what he had said to me in the war room back when I had still been na?ve enough to think we were whole.

I was too tired to take it back and too hurt to care.

For a moment, just a breath, Idris didn’t move, and then—he did.

Slow. Controlled. Careful.

He crouched beside me, close enough that the bond shivered between us, desperate to mend what I wouldn’t.

“Is that what this is?” His voice was too soft, too careful.

I didn’t answer.

His gaze locked onto mine, unblinking. “If you’re fixing what you broke, then why do you still look like you’re falling apart?”

The breath in my chest stilled. Something inside me cracked—too small to see, too deep to reach. I hated him for knowing me too well. For saying it out loud.

Kian shifted closer, grasping my wrist—not to hold me, but to ground me.

Xavier’s magic whispered over my skin, his healing touch careful, but still there.

And Idris...

He didn’t touch me. He didn’t force it. Didn’t even move. He just waited.

Because he was right.

I hated that some part of me was still waiting, too. And that, more than anything, made me feel like I was drowning.