Page 200 of The Chains You Defy

My face and hands bore crimson streaks and splotches, and both my hair and garb glistened as the bouquet of iron caressed my nostrils and taste buds.

After I’d retreated far enough from the suspended fae, I studied him intently—the steady dripping of his wounds, the pure agony in his expression, the dying light flickering in his once so expressive eyes.

“This is for working for my grandfather. For being a traitor, a deceiver, and a liar. But mostly, this is for touching my goddess and assuming to get away with such an act. The retribution for all your subsequent crimes will follow in due time. This is my vow. I will find you in the afterlife, where your torment shall be eternal.”

And then I ordered my tendrils to yank.

“Sothathappens. Huh.” Musing, I observed the mess of disassembled body parts, entrails, organs, and more blood littering the floor.

Luckily, Nayana’s couch was located far enough away, so she hadn’t been hit by any of the gore. Worry speared through my mind as I wondered if the scene haddistressed her. Only when I scanned her more thoroughly did I realize Harc had covered her eyes and ears between my offering of hearts and dealing with Cantarlann.

Voices swelled so abruptly that I was taken by surprise. I spun to the dais, hurling all my concentration into wielding my magic against the Graigh. Whatever their chanting meant, their choir caused their own power to surge, and they struggled harder against my darkness.

Fuck.

I had to focus. This was a group of ancients, whose element stood opposed to mine and at an advantage, and I’d already spent vast amounts of my own supplies—

The knowledge that I had only been able to restrain them so long because they had granted me permission to hold them hostage seeped into my brain. Their combined effort had required preparation, so they had been forced to buy themselves time, and now they were almost ready. And if they finished—

No, that wouldn’t be good for me.

Fast.

Faster.

Everything at once.

We couldn’t die.

Reaching deep into the remaining well of my power, I unleashed as much energy at once as possible, blanketing the Graigh on the dais in utter darkness. Their chanting was reduced to wisps of sound in the air as their light pushed against my shadows.

If a single soul broke out and survived, I’d be defeated.

Conventional means wouldn’t work against their pulsing light. Their ancient magic was a different beast—alien, yet strangely familiar.

Gathering my concentration and trusting the intrinsic intuition deep inside me, I clung to my dwindling reserves of magic. Instead of fighting against the enemies’ power, I pulled harder and faster at the energy they emanated.

At first, the brightness flowed unrestrained until the Graigh realized I was draining them. They interrupted their chanting and attempted to staunch the flow of their magic, but just as I hoped, their reaction came too late.

Triumph filled every inch of me as my darkness sank its hooks deeper into the ancients’ powers, and I pulled and yanked and tugged.

Nothing I did here should have been possible—magic wasn’t working like that, not even mine—but now wasn’t the right time to ponder why my gift defied the laws of nature.

The dark cloud surrounding the Graigh was gleaming from within, and one body after the other dropped to the ground. Each ancient had been depleted until they had no energy left in their empty husks—death by complete magic burnout.

Only one soul was still struggling.

My own resources had dwindled down to a shallow puddle, and I was aware that I’d ventured into dangerous territory, yet I jerked harder at the light resisting me.

Gods. Of course, my opponent aspired to drag me to Udiona with them, but they disregarded my biggest advantage. No matter what, I’d never abandon Nayana. Not even if Noelk tried to collect my soul.

Not today.

Never.

With a final yank and a roaring yell, I ripped the remaining trickle of light from the last Graigh, burning them out as I’d done with their brethren.

The ancient tribe, one of the mythic ancestors of magic and faekind, creation of the god Kalag, was no more.