Page 23 of Scars and Burns

You’ve got to be kidding me. The castle is under attack. I am supposed to kill this woman. And yet she is offering me the chanceto learn more about my Mother. Soldiers could be on their way here right now. King Elio could be on his way here right now. I don’t have time for this. I shouldn’t allow this. Yet, something is telling me to wait. To let her speak.

So I waver. Allowing her to continue.

She walks over to her desk. Opens a drawer and pulls out two journals. She rubs her hand over them. As if they have great sentimental value to her. She walks back over to me and hands me the top one. Taking a step back to look at me so she doesn’t have to crane her neck as much.

“This was your Mother’s. She left it for you. Wrote in it until the day she died. There is much in here she wants you to know. She loved you so much. You were always the light in her life.”

I look down at the journal. I hold the last resemblance of my Mother in my hands. My heart is racing. My thoughts are going in a thousand different directions. Holding my breath. I open the journal to the last entry. My mouth gapes open. Stunned to see that the date is for today. I look back up at the woman. Confusion evident on my face.

She gives me a half smile and hums. Looking down at the second journal, she sighs, “This one is for Dinalia. She has so many questions. And I no longer have time to answer them all. I wish I could watch her grow into the powerful Fae I know her to be. But our Goddess has different plans. She is the light in my life. Just as you were to your Mother’s. She’s a rare star whose light cannot be matched.”

Her voice begins to muddle. Tears swelling in her eyes. I see a few fall onto the leather cover of the journal.

Continuing, she says, “She fears the darkest parts of herself. Not wanting them to consume her. You can help her be at peace.”

What darkness could she mean? How could I ever help her bring peace? I am not meant to bring peace. I am meant to bring death.

She looks up. Arm outstretched. Handing me the journal.

I take it.

“Will you give it to her? When she’s ready? Your paths have crossed before and they will cross again.”

Confused. Is she referring to the night we raided their village. Or the times I’ve watched her in the forest. But how could she know that?

We both turn our heads to the door. Soldiers are nearing. We look back at each other but before I can speak she hugs me. Pulling away, leaving me at arm’s length she says, “Go now, little light. Fall back into the shadows. I am not yours to kill tonight. As long as I die. No consequences will befall you.”

Understanding what she is saying. I nod and disappear into the shadows just as someone bursts through the door.

18

Dinalia

I’m startled awake to the sounds of screaming. I shoot out of bed. My heart is racing. Grabbing my blades. I head down the hall towards the screams. Not bothering to change out of my sleep attire.

Not sure where to start I take in my environment. Flames have descended upon the castle. Shadowlings are assaulting us from all sides. Their black smoke chasing and invading people’s minds.

I feel the energy making its way towards me but before they have a chance to infect my mind. I am throwing my own magic back at them. Forming a whip. Wrapping it around their arms. Gripping it to their torso. It’s like a snake restricting them. Breaking their ribs. Crushing their lungs.

Another Shadowling is running straight for me. Ax raised, ready to chop me in half. I duck, countering him with my own attack. Our weapons meet. The sound of steel meeting the other rings through my ears. He’s far larger than me. And his strength will soon over power my own. Fighting and gritting my teeth. Still gripping the first Shadowling with my magic. I rage on.

Dodging and countering strike after strike. Allowing him to wearhimself out. His movements become slow and sluggish. His rippling muscles wavering. It’s clear to me that he solely trains to defeat his enemy in a few good swings. Not training for the endurance of a lengthy one-on-one battle. I maneuver around him easily. Hitting him with quick jabs and slices. Bring him to his knees. He makes one final attempt. Swinging his blade at me. I block and knock it out of his hands. And with one final thrust I am jamming my blades into his chest. At the same time finishing the first man with my magic. It squeezes him one final time before ripping him apart. Tearing him in two.

With every passing assault I see. I am making my own. Hurtling my blades and magic anywhere and everywhere I can. Seamlessly changing my weapon from two dueling blades to a double edge sword.

Every single one of them underestimate me. Thinking I am an easy target. Believing they will kill me with ease. But I am not the same girl I was the first time they attacked. I am lethal. Bringing each one I see to their deaths. Killing with my blades and decimating with my magic.

Releasing it from my hands. Always hitting its mark. It burns them alive. But not in the way you would assume fire does.

My magic is still cold. It doesn’t burn hot. No blistering wound. No smell of sizzling flesh. But turns the flesh it comes in contact with black. Freezing the skin and underlying tissue.

Unless I control otherwise.

Icing it over afterwards. My magic crystallizes over the skin it touches. Searing pain. Screaming in terror. They all meet their death one way or another.

This is what I have been training for. This is what I have been preparing myself each and every day since I came here. Releasing everything I’ve kept inside these past years. The anger building inside of me since that very first attack.

This is what I needed.

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