Page 12 of Liar Witch

I let my camouflage drop.

“You want this!” I yell up at the ceiling, brandishing the dagger. “Come and take it, cowards.”

“She’s gone mad.”

“The guards want that knife.”

“Does she know they won’t let her live?”

I smile, using my free hand to summon several spirit blades, sending them flying, one after another, into the crystal lamps built into the walls. They hit their marks with a satisfying thud, shattering the stones.

The whole mine is plunged into darkness.

Yells are audible from above.

“ALL INMATES WILL SHUT THEMSELVES IN THEIR CELLS IMMEDIATELY.”

The disembodied voice must be the work of a mage. I’ll have to take them out first before they can get a chance to do any serious damage.

“If you don’t want to die down here,” I say, knowing the inmates are listening. “You’ll grab the first rope you see and climb out of this place.”

Their murmurs grow after that, the anticipation of what I’m about to do making the air thick with tension.

Some listen, gathering at the edges of the room.

The others... they’ve already locked themselves into their cells. Conditioned into obedience by years of oppression.

Death, for them, will be a kindness.

As predicted, ropes start to fall, guards disturbing the darkness with their crystal-fuelled torches.

I’m already back in the spirit realm, waiting. Petra’s training and the sigil on my back making the step between planes as easy as breathing.

The energy required to hold it will drain me, but being visible in my current state is a death warrant.

The mage is easy to spot, arrogantly holding a ball of blue fire in the palm of his hand as he slides down the rope into the mine.

A spirit blade downs him before his feet touch the ground.

In the spirit realm, I watch in grim fascination as his soul leaves his body. The pearly substance that is his very essence drifts away from his body as the tethering thread between the two withers until it snaps entirely.

The misty sphere of his spirit floats up like an untethered balloon, headed for the stars.

I’ve never watched someone die from this side of the veil before.

It’s oddly enchanting. Strangely peaceful, despite the violence associated with the act.

The sound of their yells as they notice his fire going out breaks the strange, spellbound moment. The inmates take that as their cue to attack.

Even with their cuffs on, some of them are a force to be reckoned with. Muscles, developed after years of mining crystal, are all they really need to overpower some of the human guards.

I join in, throwing more spirit blades whenever I have a clear line of sight. Although the Lunar in me wants nothing more than to dive into the fray, I’m in no state to fight. I stay in the spirit realm, out of reach. Taking out guards where I can but otherwise letting the chaos do the work for me.

Before long, there are more people climbing up ropes than sliding down them.

I honestly didn’t plan on starting a prison revolt, but I can’t deny its helpfulness in distracting the guards. Clutching Glenna’s athame between my teeth, I reach out and snag my own rope and heave myself up.

It doesn’t take long for the guards above to catch on.