Page 142 of The Unbound Witch

He narrowed his eyes, not giving an inch. “She’s not far enough yet. There’s no way.”

“She’s far enough,” Atlas growled. “She’s probably farther than you can imagine. She’s faster than light and sound. She’s determined and she’s unstoppable. She’d have gone to the moon by now, had you asked for it.”

The Dark King brought a hand to his temple, pressing as he reluctantly nodded, flashing his silver eyes to me. “Bring it down.”

“Get back,” I warned, holding my hands out to cast.

If Kir hadn’t gotten far enough with all those books, this single spell could be total obliteration. But I had faith in her. As much as Atlas, and maybe even more. Because Kir had been the unsung hero in my story for a long time. Long before she throat punched Onyx the day of Tasa’s funeral. Before we’d moved into our home, before she’d whispered the truth of her home life to me, sitting under an oak tree when we were ten.

Fighting the urge to sleep, I cast upon a statue, laying on its side across the catacombs. It lifted with ease, and I threw it like a battering ram into the wall. Dust and debris exploded around us as a crack formed. Kirsi had come through. Because of course she had.

“Again,” Torryn yelled. “Same spot as before. Just one more, Raven.”

Pushing away the tremble in my legs, I swung again and the wall crumpled, filling the catacombs with a cloud of dirt. A surge of power crept over me. Lightning covered my skin. Fire blazed at my fingertips. A wind I hadn't cast breezed through my hair. And there, in the center of the room, a black pedestal made of tourmaline stood erect. Humming with its own residual magic.

“We have to move it.” I coughed, swiping my hand through the thick, dusty air. “This spot doesn’t hold the magic. It’s in the pedestal and I need the moon’s power.”

Torryn and Bash moved past me, the king gripping my hand as he went. We circled the stone pillar, studying the bottom and moving our hands over the top. They tried pushing it, called Atlas over to help lift it. It didn’t budge.

“Can you try?” Bastian asked. “We can go slow. Moving it only feet at a time if you need to rest.”

I squeezed my hands open and shut, staring at the heart of the world. “I won’t need to rest.”

I cast, and it lifted easily from the ground. It answered only to me. The connection of my power to the pedestal pushed another wave of rejuvenation through me. As if the sliver of magic within it recognized me. But as I passed through the catacombs, pushing that pillar to stand above ground, as it once had, many, many years ago, something deep within me jerked. Warning bells flying around in my head.

I didn’t stop moving, didn’t indicate the threat as I kept going. Pushing forward. Though something deep within my soul knew the ire radiating from this place of power was deep, dark, and dangerous. Smothered in sacrificial blood and cursed over and over, the pedestal had a score to settle with the witches.

62

RAVEN

“Why here?” Kirsi asked as we led her to the site I’d chosen.

I looked around the open space, just down a worn path from the pearly white castle. The black expanse of charred ground and dead trees in the distance lent no sense of ritual to this simple spot. Though the final rays of the sun setting behind us brought chills over my skin as I answered.

“This is where they forced the death spell on me. If ever there was a place of residual power used recently enough nearby, where we could still be under the full moon, this is it.”

“We’re not casting any magic,” Bastian said, pinning me with a hard look. “You put the books together one by one on that pedestal, top it with the Fire Coven stone and then get back.”

“We need a salt circle for protection,” Nym added. “No magic, just something to ground us to the Earth.”

Atlas reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny glass jar, pretending to toss it to Kirsi.

She rolled her eyes. “Funny, Pup.”

“No salt circle,” I said, tightly. “There can be nothing binding around us.”

“How do you even know this?” Kirsi asked, sweeping in to get a closer look at the pillar.

I didn’t want to tell them of the visions the place of power had been sending me today. The visual of those old witches slicing the throat of innocent Meliora and draining her blood. Of curse after curse, of the screams and the sounds from the Book of Omnia as it was severed seven times.

“The old wraith told me,” I lied.

All were satisfied with that answer, but Kir. She held my gaze longer, twisting her face into doubt as I turned away. Giving her my back, I crossed the outdoor space we lingered in and wrapped my arms around Bastian. I couldn’t give him the goodbye I wanted to. Couldn’t even hint that I was about to cast with the power of seven books, harnessing the power myself, so as not to obliterate the world.

Still, he worried, kissing the top of my head before pulling my face away to study it. He moved his thumb over my lips before kissing them with a tenderness I hadn’t wanted. I wanted something painful. Something that would sit within my soul through eternity. But I supposed the look on his face in a few minutes would be enough to endure.

“Don’t hug me like it’s goodbye,” he whispered, hardly a space between us. “It’s going to work, and then we’ll walk right back up to our home and lay in our bed, holding each other until the sun rises.”