Page 62

SELENE

T he city burns around me. Midnight sky is a riot of smoke and embers, entire avenues streaked with the glow of chaotic spells.

Orthani’s towers loom like ghostly fangs against the swirling haze, and the air carries the tang of scorched metal.

Above the din, I hear the rumble of battle cries—my heart twists, recognizing the Red Purna’s chants.

They came earlier than expected, a mass surge that split Orthani’s defenses wide. And now, chaos reigns.

I crouch beside a broken column in the outer courtyard, scanning the scene.

The once-pristine marble is strewn with fallen guards, patches of rubble, and flickering wards that half-spark and die.

A swirl of tension resonates in my chest. Ai is safe, hidden deeper in the estate with our watchers.

The plan was to whisk her away quietly. But the Red Purna attacked before we could slip out.

Instead of fleeing, we stand to fight, forging an unsteady alliance with Orthani’s defenders for one frantic cause: to prevent the Red Purna from claiming Ai.

A shockwave rattles the ground, flinging shards of stone.

My entire body tenses, bracing for the next surge of magic.

Somewhere behind me, Vaelith’s commanding roar resounds.

He barks orders to Orthani’s soldiers, forcing them to regroup.

I scramble upright, ignoring the dust caking my arms. We have to keep the Red Purna’s incursion from breaching the estate’s core. If they reach Ai, all is lost.

A cluster of Red Purna acolytes charges across the courtyard.

Their cloaks swirl in the smoke, chanting incantations that glow bright red.

I grit my teeth, stepping into their path.

My newly found confidence—my synergy with Eryx, Vaelith, and Zareth—bolsters me.

With a snarl, I flick out a hand, focusing on my psionic surge.

My mind latches onto the lead acolyte’s consciousness, jabbing him with a mental spike.

He staggers, cry cut short, collapsing under the strain.

The others check momentarily, uncertain.

Then they see me—recognize me as a purna standing on Orthani’s side, an unthinkable betrayal in their eyes.

“Selene, you traitor!” one screams, hurling a crackle of raw arcane energy.

Instinct flares: I step aside, letting the bolt scorch past. My breath catches, heart pounding with the sickening knowledge that these used to be my allies, in a sense.

I wanted Orthani’s downfall once, but not at this cost, not with Ai as a living bomb. They no longer see reason.

I press forward. With my transformative magic, I let my features shift—my eyes glimmer with silver as I temporarily enhance my physical form, muscles taut with borrowed vigor.

Leaping onto a fallen statue, I launch myself into the cluster of acolytes.

My dagger flashes, steel meeting the wards they frantically conjure.

Sparks blind me momentarily, but I slip behind them, sliding the dagger’s hilt into the back of one acolyte’s head with a precise blow.

He crumples unconscious rather than dead.

I refuse to kill them if I can avoid it; their cause once mirrored my own rage, but they lost themselves.

A second robed purna tries to bind me with a choking vine of magic—thin green tendrils coil around my legs.

I bite back a curse, summoning a swirl of psionic energy.

My mind lances outward, severing the controlling link.

She gasps, stumbling. I pivot, hooking a leg behind hers and sending her sprawling onto the stones.

Before I can finish subduing them, an eruption of dark chaos arcs overhead.

The Red Purna’s main assault intensifies, pummeling Orthani’s ramparts.

The fortress trembles, an entire section collapsing in a roar of dust and flame.

I reel, half-choking on swirling ash. The acolytes scuttle away, regrouping under the leadership of a masked figure wearing tattered crimson robes.

The masked figure waves them forward again, determined to push deeper into the estate.

A flash of black cloth darts in from the side—Eryx arrives, scimitars flashing. With a flurry of graceful strikes, he intercepts the acolytes, hooking one’s ankle and slashing at another’s staff. “Selene, you all right?” he calls, voice raw from smoke.

“Barely,” I grunt, stepping to his flank. My dagger arcs in tandem with his scimitars, forging a brief synergy of steel and psionic nudges. The acolytes crumble under our combined force. “Thanks for the timely entrance.”

He grins through the haze. “Couldn’t let them dogpile you, dear queen.” Then he grows serious, scanning the shattered courtyard. “They’re flooding in from the eastern breach. We must hold them or at least corral them away from Ai.”

I nod, adrenaline flooding me. “Let’s find Vaelith and Zareth. We stand stronger together.”

We dash across the courtyard, picking our way over smoldering debris.

Archers on the ramparts loose arrows at a tide of purna foot soldiers.

The stench of ozone lingers from magical blasts.

I glimpse an entire cluster of Orthani’s guard pinned by swirling chaos-laced tendrils, and I flinch—this is the Red Purna’s unstoppable vengeance if left unchecked.

Amid the carnage, Vaelith’s deep bellow resonates.

“Hold that line!” his voice booms. We rush forward, seeing him locked in furious combat with a group of robed witches.

He wields a halberd, moving with disciplined ferocity.

Flickers of psionic blasts threaten him, but he sidesteps, deflecting with sheer skill.

Zareth stands at his side, hurling bursts of psychic dissonance.

His eyes gleam with savage focus, and Red Purna soldiers reel, clutching their heads.

The moment they falter, Vaelith lunges, striking them down with blunt force.

I note with relief he aims to disable, not kill, following my request to minimize bloodshed.

Eryx and I join them, forming a ring of steel and magic. The purna soldiers flinch at our arrival, uncertain. I catch the anger in their eyes. “You side with Orthani? Cowards,” one hisses.

“Orthani’s not my friend,” I spit back, “but neither is your plan to sacrifice Ai!” My voice crackles across the courtyard. For a heartbeat, the purna falter, hearing the name Ai—a child they once claimed to protect.

A swirl of chain lightning arcs overhead from a Red Purna mistress, scattering across the yard. We duck behind a fallen pillar, the crackle of power dancing around the stones. “We can’t hold them all,” Vaelith growls, sweat beading on his brow. “They’re too many.”

Zareth exhales sharply, scanning the perimeter. “We need to break their leadership. If we disable their top ranks, the rest might falter. Purna are strong individually, but they rely on coordinated arcs of magic for this siege.”

I nod, recalling the Red Purna’s leadership structure. If I can find them, I might use my psionic edge and transformation to subdue them without slaughter. My heart pounds at the thought of confronting old allies who once aided my infiltration. But I have no choice.

“Then let’s strike at the leaders,” I say, voice steel. “Vaelith, keep the lesser squads busy. Eryx, create a path. Zareth, come with me to face their heads. I’ll end this without mass bloodshed.”

Vaelith inclines his head. Eryx smirks. “Lead on, Selene. The big fish are yours to fry.”

We break formation, slipping through the chaos as Vaelith and Eryx divert the foot soldiers.

Firelight flickers across broken statues, swirling dust dancing in every breath.

Zareth trails me, eyes narrowed, psionic senses extended to locate the Red Purna’s central knot of power.

We push deeper into Orthani’s main courtyard, where the largest blasts emanate.

A new wave of Red Purna witches floods in, chanting.

They conjure a swirling funnel of chaotic wind.

My heart jolts—if that vortex unleashes near Orthani’s gates, the entire fortress might crumble.

I can’t let them tear the city’s walls down, not now that I’ve resolved to shape Orthani rather than watch it burn.

Zareth’s eyes glimmer, and he sends a mental shock through them, staggering their chant.

I dart forward, channeling my transformative magic.

My muscles surge with borrowed strength, letting me clear the distance in a few leaps.

The witches gasp as I land amidst them, slamming my dagger’s hilt into the temple of one, kicking another’s staff aside.

Their funnel stutters, dissolving into a swirl of wind that howls uselessly.

“That’s enough,” I snarl, focusing a psionic spike at their ringleader. She clutches her head, moaning. Before she recovers, I clasp her wrist, meeting her shocked gaze. “No more devastation. Surrender.”

She spits at me. “Traitor,” she rasps, then collapses. I exhale, stepping over her unconscious form. No time to gloat. We press on.

Soon, we reach the heart of the courtyard.

A group of robed figures stands on a chunk of fallen masonry, barking orders to waves of purna foot soldiers.

I recognize the swirl of arcane power around them: these are the Red Purna’s advanced leaders, ones who mentor the covens in destructive chaos.

They must be controlling the entire assault.

If we break them, the siege might collapse.

Zareth and I share a look, then nod. We approach, concealed behind an upturned wagon. “Let’s do it swiftly,” he mutters.

I place a hand on his arm. “Draw their focus. I’ll circle behind and strike with transformations.”

He hesitates, frustration in his eyes. “Be cautious. Their wards might shred you if you rush in alone.”