Page 17

“While you’re doing that, your sisters will assist me in setting up the ritual,” Felspar continued, his tone clipped and business-like.

“I’ll need their help preparing the circles and ensuring the spell’s stability.

This isn’t amateur work, and if anything is out of place, we’ll all end up regretting it. ”

Celise turned to survey her sisters. “You heard the man. Do what he says and try not to screw it up. This spell is going to work. We don’t have the luxury of mistakes.”

Crestia rolled her eyes but nodded, her usual smirk replaced with a look of determination.

Limaria gave a single, measured nod, her silver hair catching the dim light of the apartment.

Thraya hesitated, her eyes flicking toward Celise, a question lingering in her gaze.

Celise raised an eyebrow, daring her to voice it.

Thraya said nothing, instead pressing her lips into a thin line.

Hishta, as always, remained quiet, her amber eyes filled with a mix of unease and curiosity.

Celise turned back to Felspar, her restlessness growing with each second that passed and she wasn’t out bringing the human realm to its knees. “I’ll be back with your sacrifices soon.”

With a flick of her wrist, she opened another portal, the edges of it writhing with dark energy. The air hummed with power as she stepped through, and her sisters’ presence faded behind her.

The tavern Celise arrived at was a pit of darkness, even more so than the one she’d just left.

The air was thick with the scent of unwashed bodies, spilled liquor, and the faint, coppery tang of blood.

Shadows clung to every corner, and the low murmur of conversation barely masked the undercurrent of tension that simmered in the room.

She stepped forward, her cloak swishing around her as her boots echoed against the grimy wooden floors.

The patrons turned to look at her, their expressions ranging from wary to openly hostile.

None of them dared challenge her. She knew they could feel the power—a dark, oppressive force that made the air heavy—rolling off her in waves.

Celise’s gaze swept the room, her eyes locking onto her first target—a pixie sitting in the corner, hunched over a drink that looked far too dark to be anything innocent.

This was no fluttery-winged, flower-loving pixie.

This one was a little over a foot and a half tall.

Its thin body was draped in tattered clothing, and its sharp, angular face was twisted into a permanent sneer. Perfect.

Celise strode over, her smirk widening as the pixie looked up and froze, its dark eyes narrowing. “You smell like blood magic. How quaint.”

The pixie gave Celise a look of pure contempt, baring sharp teeth. “What do you want, sprite?”

“I need you, and I don’t have time for drama.” Before the pixie had a chance to respond, Celise reached out, her shadows coiling around like snakes. The pixie struggled, snarling and cursing, but Celise’s grip was unrelenting.

“Don’t worry,” she mocked. “I’ll make it quick. Eventually.”

Her next target was a female warlock seated near the bar whose dark magic practically radiated from her like a beacon.

Celise approached her without hesitation, pulling the pixie along with her wrapped in the shadow tendrils.

The pixie’s sharp eyes took in the warlock’s black robes and the faint, red glow that clung to her fingertips.

“You’ve been playing with dark magic.” Celise clucked her tongue at the female. “And now, you’re going to pay for it.”

The warlock’s lips curved into a cruel smile. “And who are you to collect that debt, sprite?”

Celise didn’t answer. Instead, she raised her hand. The shadows surged forward and wrapped around the warlock’s wrists and throat. The warlock’s smile faltered as she struggled against the dark tentacles of power, her magic sparking uselessly against them.

“Ah, there’s that look.” Celise’s tone dripped with mock sympathy. “The moment you realize you’re not nearly as powerful as you thought.”

Celise glanced around the room and though some watched her, other patrons seemed to be very blatantly avoiding looking in her direction.

Smart supernaturals. She moved her hands together causing the shadows to pull the pixie and warlock against one another, then Celise manipulated the magic to wrap them in one strong tendril.

She turned her attention back to the room.

Her eyes landed on a troll. He was next.

It stank of death, the foul odor clinging to its thick, leathery skin as it loomed near the back of the tavern.

Its massive frame was hunched over, and its yellowed eyes scanned the room with a predator’s gaze.

Celise approached it with the same confidence she’d shown with the others, her smirk never faltering.

“You reek of human blood—young, innocent blood.” She wrinkled her nose.

“And here I thought trolls were supposed to be subtle.” Celise would take great pleasure in ending this one’s life.

She could admit that she’d let the darkness in and reign, but she still had boundaries, and kids were off limits.

Even when she sent the packs’ children away, she’d been careful not to let her magic hurt them.

The troll snarled, its massive hands curling into fists. “You’ve got a death wish, sprite.”

“Perhaps. But it’s not my death you should be worried about.”

Before the troll could react, her shadows lashed out, wrapped around its limbs, and dragged the troll to its knees. It roared in fury, its voice shaking the walls, but Celise’s grip didn’t waver. A few supernaturals backed away into the shadows, but no one intervened.

“Quiet,” she snapped. “You’ll have plenty of time to scream later.” She tapped her lip as she scanned the tavern. “One more, one more, one more,” she said in time with each tap of her finger.

At last she saw a fae, his beauty a stark contrast to the others Celise had chosen.

His sharp cheekbones and golden hair gave him an almost ethereal appearance, but the darkness in his eyes betrayed the corruption that had taken root in his soul.

She walked over to him, her other captives being pulled along by the power that bound them to her.

“My, my, my,” Celise purred. “You’ve been a naughty boy. How unbecoming of your kind.”

The fae smirked, his voice smooth as silk. “And yet, you’re here playing executioner.” He motioned to the supernaturals she’d captured. “Tell me, sprite, what does that make you?”

Celise smiled. “Efficient. Did you see how fast I rounded these up?” She tilted her head at him. “No? Here, let me give you a demonstration.”

The shadows struck before he could respond, coiling around him with a speed that left him no room to react.

Celise laughed at the death glare the fae shot at her as she opened a portal.

She didn’t give the room another glance as she dragged her spoils through it, their struggles futile against her magic.

As soon as she stepped into Felspar’s apartment, she saw four small circles on the floor. They pulsed with magic.

“Damn.” Felspar’s brow rose. “When you want something you really go after it.” Then he motioned to the circles. “Put one in each circle. Once they’re in it, they will be bound.”

Celise did as he asked, using the dark shadows to move them to each spot. Once the four beings were bound within the blood circles, she looked back at the elf, eager to get a move on.

Felspar glanced at them, his lips curving into a cruel grin.

“Excellent choices. This will do nicely.” He turned to her sisters, his voice severe.

“Do everything as I explained it. Hold on to them when the time comes, and don’t hesitate.

If you falter, the spell will backfire, and we’ll all suffer for it. ”

Thraya and Hishta exchanged uneasy glances, but they stepped forward, their hesitation warring with their desire to reclaim their power. Celise watched them closely, her eyes narrowing.

“These creatures are evil. They’ve killed, corrupted, and destroyed for their own gain. If you feel any guilt, remember who you’re dealing with. You’re not taking innocent lives. You’re taking back what’s yours.”

Felspar chuckled, the sound low and amused. “And what does that make you, Celise? A hero? Or just another monster?”

Celise’s smirk returned, and for a split second she saw a hint of fear in Felspar. “I’m whatever I need to be.”

The elf simply shrugged and then picked up a very old book.

“Once I begin, you can do your part. Each of them must be dead by the time I finish reading the spell.” He opened the book, the old pages rustling as he turned them until he found what he wanted.

Then, he began to chant in an ancient language. Celise took that as her cue.

She walked over to Thraya who was kneeling down next to the pixie trapped in her circle.

The pixie thrashed within the confines of the blood circle, its small, wiry body straining against the invisible force that kept it trapped.

Shadows coiled around its limbs, binding it in place like serpents tightening their grip.

The pixie’s angular face was twisted in a mix of fury and terror, dark eyes darting to its captors and then back to the blade in Celise’s hand.

“Let me out, sprite!” it snarled, its voice high-pitched and grating. “You think you’re better than me? You think you’re not just as rotten as the rest of us?”

Celise crouched down, leveling her gaze with the pixie’s. She studied the creature like a spider might study a fly caught in its web. “Better than you?” she mocked. “No. Just smarter. You should have spent less time dabbling in blood magic and more time figuring out how not to get caught.”

The pixie hissed and bared its needle-like teeth. “You’ll regret this, sprite. My blood will curse you!”

Celise’s lips curled into a cruel smile.

“Oh, I’ve been cursed before. Your pathetic little threats are nothing compared to what I’ve already survived.

” She pulled a blade, this one different from the one she’d used on her hand, from her cloak.

It glinted in the dim light, its wickedly sharp edge catching the faint glow of the candles scattered around the room.

The blade was small, almost delicate in its design, but deadly in its purpose.

She ran her thumb along its edge, testing the sharpness, and a thin line of crimson appeared on her skin.

The pixie’s struggles grew more frantic. Its wiry muscles strained as it tried to wrench free of the circle’s power. “You don’t have to do this!” it shrieked, desperation creeping into its voice. “There are other ways! Other sacrifices!”

Celise was filled with determination, and her smile faded. “You’ve already made enough sacrifices, little one. Humans, fae, your own kind. All for power you didn’t deserve. Consider this… balance.”

Celise stepped into the circle, her boots crossing the line of blood that sealed the pixie’s fate. The magic rolled off her like water and didn’t affect her in the least. The creature’s dark eyes widened, and its breath came in short, panicked gasps as Celise loomed over it.

“Don’t do this,” it whispered, its voice trembling now. “Please.”

For a moment, Celise hesitated. Not out of guilt or mercy—those emotions had been burned out of her when Peri had taken her sisters from her—but out of something darker. A twisted curiosity, a hunger to see what would happen when life was snuffed out in such an intimate, deliberate way.

She knelt before the pixie, one knee pressing into the rough wood floor.

The creature whimpered, its sharp teeth clicking together as it tried to speak, but no words came.

Celise reached out, her fingers cold as they gripped the pixie’s chin, forcing its head back to expose the thin, pale column of its neck.

The blade moved with precision, its edge biting into the flesh like a whisper of steel.

The sound was wet. A sickening gurgle escaped when the pixie’s throat opened beneath her hand.

Blood sprayed in a crimson arc, warm and viscous, splattering across Celise’s face and soaking into her cloak.

The metallic tang, pungent and overwhelming, filled the air.

The pixie’s body convulsed, its tiny hands clawing at the air as its lifeblood poured out in a torrent. The circle beneath them glowed faintly, and the blood pooled around the creature’s body as if drawn to the lines of the spell.

Felspar’s voice rose behind Celise, the elf’s chanting steady and rhythmic as he worked the spell.

The air around them grew heavy, charged with power, as the pixie’s magic began to flow.

Its essence shimmered faintly—a dark, pulsing energy that seeped from its lifeless body and into the blood circle.

“Hold on to it,” Felspar barked, his tone sharp. “If you falter now, the spell will collapse!”

Thraya’s hands trembled as she gripped the pixie’s convulsing body, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and resolve. Hishta’s grip was firmer, but her gaze flickered with unease as the dark energy flowed into her.

Celise didn’t look away. She watched as the light faded from the pixies’s gaze, as the last shuddering breath escaped its lips in a wet, choking gasp. The darkness inside Celise stirred—a deep, insidious thing that coiled tighter around her soul with every drop of blood that spilled.

Celise rose to her feet, wiping the blood from her dagger onto the hem of her cloak. The darkness inside Celise churned, growing stronger, hungrier. “How do you feel, Thraya?”

The healer sprite held up her hands and they pulsed with white light. “It worked.” Her voice was full of awe and relief. She glanced down briefly at the pixie but quickly looked back up, her eyes meeting Celise’s. “Thank you.”

Celise smiled. “I told you I would get it back for you.” She turned to the next circle, her eyes narrowing as she fixed her gaze on the warlock.

“One down,” she said, her voice cold and sharp. “Three to go.”