Page 115 of Twisted Bonds

Seeing her takes me back to the day she stole everything from me because of petty jealousy. My stomach flips on itself again, threatening to take me down. The women cry and plead as the heartless guards in their black leather armor and spears shove them to the ground. One of them lets out a wordless visceral scream as a knife is placed against her throat.

Then I’m moving again.

My growl reverberates off the buildings as I launch myself at Malicryn’s back. I slam a blast of air into the open square. I don’t register the crunch of bodies hitting walls or the sudden scream rent from Malicryn’s throat as she’s knocked off her feet. There’s just the rush of blood in my ears and the burning need to end this.

I hear a powerful roar from Bobble somewhere behind me, echoing my own. The street lights up from streams of yellow light, splitting into two groups. The women lying in a heap against the bakery wall receive healing from Bobble’s yellow Chroma. His remaining magic is bent towards destruction, not healing. It surges towards the group of five guards, ready to attack.

Two spear arms are severed clean at the shoulder. Another couple are left with gaping chest wounds that have them stumbling backward. The fifth guard, the one farthest from me, manages to sidestep the blast and channels his own Chroma to knock the stream aside. His gaze flickers toward me before snapping back to Bobble, a mirror of my fury reflected in his eyes.

Malicryn rises to her feet, seemingly unperturbed that she stands against us with only one guard now. That alone is enough to make me nervous. What does she know that we don’t?

I slam a shield against her, but she easily deflects it with barely a flick of her wrist. Her red Chroma pulses around her in a slow, steady beat. Slowing my approach, the only sounds are the crunch of gravel beneath my feet and the wailing of her guards left to die from blood loss. The hostages scramble and disappear as quickly as a mouse scurries from the cat.

Bobble pauses beside me, and with the unspoken bond between us, a mutual understanding blossoms. Like four strikes of lightning, his Chroma punctures the hearts of the four suffering guards. A mercy, no doubt, they don’t deserve.

He throws himself at the remaining guard, now leveling a spear at him and channeling a deep maroon chroma, lashing luck to himself and misfortune to us.

My eyes turn to Malicryn, with her long white hair streaming in the smokey wind and her lavender skin practically glowing in the firelight from the chaos around us. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Bobble engage in a deadly fight, but I must keep my focus. Focus on her. She’s the real danger.

“Still haven’t mended that soul of yours, Danny?”

The curl of her lips is vicious, like a wolf baring its fangs. Still, her gaze flickers over me in a chillingly casual way, as if we’re old friends catching up over tea. As if she didn’t just have fae women dragged before her for some sick entertainment I can only guess at. As if she hasn’t spent decades tormenting us and plotting our demise.

“I see your kitty cat broke his curse. I knew I should have made him something more disgusting, like a cockroach. But where’s the fun in that?”

Beside me, Bobble locks in combat with the guard, their Chroma clashing against each other with tremendous force. His amber eyes flash with determination as he engages his foe head-on.

She raises one manicured finger slowly, pointing directly at me. “I’m going to take my time with you. I’ve been dreaming of this day for far too long.”

Before I can respond, she lunges for me, a sharp dagger appearing in her hand as if by magic. My sword barely deflects it in time. The ringing sound of our weapons colliding slices through the air.

As the sun sets, the sky becomes a canvas of flickering colors. Sweat rolls down my forehead as I throw everything I have against her in huge columns of blue light, and I brace myself for a fight to the death.

sixty-three

Tairyn

I look on in horror as Callum throws himself from the second-story window, nearly landing on top of Mira. I curse the idiot under my breath as I slam all my magic against the black tendrils of Yurghen’s power trying to claim him.

Cor’than, at least, is doing well, holding off Yurghen’s reinforcements by splitting his Chroma. He blocks their path with shields of air with one part and channels what he can spare into my weaves, letting me direct and flow his power in the battle.

But Callum… damn him. He’s vulnerable now, his Chroma splattering against Yurghen’s like a bird hitting a window. He barely has time to recover before Yurghen is upon him, seeping into the gaps in his defenses. I can only hope that Mira can hold him off while I alter my strategy.

I clench my teeth, heart pounding as I hurl every ounce of Chroma I can muster at the approaching monstrosity. My magic collides with his dark energy, violet against the inky black, but it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave with your hands.

More lightning from the sky comes to Yurghen’s aid, pulling in the souls of the lost like moth to the flame. More and more circle and surround the area, watching the struggle between good and evil.

Desperate and uncertain, I pull back into myself, gathering the threads of my power and twisting them together. It’s a reckless move, one that could easily backfire and consume me from the inside out.

Instead of pulling the single thread of purple Chroma so easily accessible, the power granted by the Chromatic Gods, I yank the full spectrum of color as it coalesces into a brilliant white. A trickle flows from me, barely reaching Yurghen.

Immediately the souls are drawn to it, swarming the magic linking me to the dark magi.

Not long ago Yurghen could channel white, but now he’s tainted with the stain of evil acts so atrocious it’s broken his own soul beyond repair.

Let’s hope this doesn’t do the same to me.

sixty-four

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