Page 194 of Dark Fate

Azrael andRhylandare going at it like two alpha dogs fighting over a juicy bone, their voices rising and falling in a symphony of testosterone-fueled bullshit.

I catch snippets of their conversation, something about needinga very strong vampireto complete the ritual, but it's like trying to piece together a puzzle with half the pieces missing and the other half covered in glue. My head is so fogged with this incessant humming that I can barely string two thoughts together, let alone make sense of their macho posturing.

The pain in my head is excruciating, like someone's taken a jackhammer to my skull. I press my fingers to my temples, trying desperately to massage away the pressure, but it's like trying to stop a tidal wave with a paper towel. The humming in my crown pulses in time with the agony, a twisted symphony of torment that threatens to split my head in two.

Is this some mystical migraine from what I did? A cosmic punishment for playing god?

My knees buckle beneath me, and I crumple to the ground, my body curling in on itself like a dying leaf. The conversation around me grinds to a halt, all eyes turning to me in a mix of concern and confusion.

"What is it? What's happening?" Rhyland's voice is laced with panic as he drops to his knees beside me, his arms wrapping around me like a shield. I can feel his desperation, his need to understand, to fix whatever's broken inside me.

But before I can form a response, all hell breaks loose. The witches, those manipulative bitches, seize their moment, their magic wrapping around Rhyland and his brothers like invisible strings. They jerk and twitch like marionettes, their bodies no longer their own as they're forced to march back behind Azrael, leaving me alone and writhing on the ground.

Necromancy.

"Baby, I—I can't fight them…" Rhyland's voice cuts through my thoughts, blending his pain and mine. "Fight, Angel…" he implores, a desperate whisper urging me to keep battling the darkness that threatens to engulf us all.

"Dani!" Emily shouts somewhere in the distance. I want her safe.

"Emily, GO!" That's all I can manage as I claw at my crown, my fingers scrabbling against the unyielding metal as I try to rip it from my head. But it's fused to me, the humming intensifying with every desperate tug, threatening to shatter my bones.

Through the haze of pain and the chaos that surrounds me, I catch a glimpse of Sable pulling Emily away, back toward the road. It's like a moment of clarity amidst the madness, a brief respite from the agony tearing me apart.

Good, stay alive, Emily. The thought flickers through my mind like a candle in the darkness, a desperate plea for the safety of my best friend. She's been through enough, seen enough, and the last thing I want is for her to be caught in the crossfire of this fucked-up battle.

"It's not working!" one of the witches shouts, her voice shrill with frustration.

"Don't you dare stop now! It will work; it must work!" Azrael shrieks, his voice cracking with a frenzied, unhinged desperation that borders madness. "Just offer it over, Dani, and we can stop the pain."

And then I see her, a blonde witch with eyes that glow an eerie green. She's young, too young to be caught up in this shitstorm, but her face is set with a grim determination as she reaches for my crown, her fingers crackling with arcane energy as she continues her chanting.

I try to fight her off, to summon even a spark of my power, but it's like trying to light a match in a hurricane. The pain is all-consuming, a white-hot agony that obliterates everything else.

"FIGHT!" Rhyland's voice in my head urging me not to give up.

I'm helpless, a pawn in a game I never asked to play, and as the witch's hands close around my crown, I feel a scream tear from my throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated anguish.

Is this how it ends? Am I destined to be another casualty in this war between gods and monsters? The thought fills me with a rage so potent it takes my breath away.

No. Fuck that. I am Danica fucking Pierce, Savior of the Seven Realms, and I will not go down without a fight. I summon every ounce of strength I have left, every shred of defiance, and with a roar that shakes the very foundations of the earth, I surge to my feet, my body moving on pure instinct.

The blonde witch stumbles back, her green eyes wide with shock and fear as I lunge for her, my hands closing around her wrists like vices. I can feel the crackle of her magic against my skin, the searing heat of it, but I push through the pain, my own power rising up to meet hers like a tidal wave.

"You picked the wrong bitch to mess with," I snarl, my voice barely recognizable through the rage that consumes me. "I am the fucking savior of the realms, and some two-bit witch with a god complex, will not take me down."

I can feel the crown on my head, the metal pulsing with a power that matches the rhythm of my heartbeat. I focus on that connection, I feel a surge of energy unlike anything I've ever known.

It's raw and primal, a force of nature that courses through my veins like molten lava. I channel it into my hands, into the grip I have on the witch's wrists, and I watch as her eyes widen in terror, her mouth opening in a silent scream.

"Release them," I command, my voice echoing with a power that seems to come from somewhere beyond myself. "ReleaseRhylandand his brothers, or I swear to every god in every realm, I will burn you all alive from the inside out."

Azrael holds his position, eyes locked onto me, scrutinizing every detail as if assessing a worthy adversary. "You're quite the slippery little eel, aren't you? No matter what obstacles I throw in your path, you somehow manage to wriggle your way through."

He's buying his time; he knows he can't lose any more witches and is unsure how to proceed.

The witch's face contorts in agony, her skin blistering and peeling as my power sears. I can feel her resistance, her desperate attempt to cling to her control, but it's like trying to hold back the tide with a sandcastle.

"By all means, darling, set them free," Azrael orders, his voice dripping with condescension and a hint of amusement.

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