Page 113 of Magic Forsaken

“Raine, what are you doing?”

I didn’t answer. My teeth were too tightly clenched as I grasped those very different threads of power and tried to force them to do my bidding. Tried to forget the day I’d sworn never to use my magic again…

It had been so long since I first renounced my power—since that moment in the caves when I’d first taken a life. They’d been hunting me for hours. Trying to provoke me. Testing the limits of the magic they’d forced into my body.

I couldn’t use glamour, but I could silence my footfalls and shield myself from their magic. Pick their locks and steal their supplies. Create darkness or light and use it to my advantage.

That day I’d been hungry, desperate, and surrounded. Bleeding from a dozen cuts. And when they forced me to fight, I’d made a blade of magic and lashed out. It had happened so quickly, none of them had time to react. My tormentor had fallen, stabbed through the heart, and the test was finally over.

I’d given them what they wanted, but I hadn’t missed the aura of fear that clung to the others as they dragged me back to my prison. I’d become a killer and made myself a threat all at the same time, and I’d decided then and there that I would not use my magic again. No matter how much they provoked me.

Only a few days ago, I thought I’d come to terms with the necessity of learning to use this power. Of allowing myself to embrace it for the sake of protecting others. But what if I lost control again? What if I took another life and became the cause of a war that would take thousands more and destroy the fragile peace between human and Idrian?

“Raine, I hold your friends’ lives in my hands,” Blake reminded me, a note of warning in his tone. “And as I told you, I will happily cut my losses. Everyone in this room can die, and it will make no difference to my future plans.”

It was true. But it also reminded me of another truth.

This was not my doing. I did not start this fight. And if there was a war, it would not be because of anything I’d done.

But if I chose not to act, the ugly cycle of power and control would simply continue. I had a chance to stop it, but it would only be possible if I stopped holding back. Stopped blaming myself. Stopped fearing what I could become.

I was not a killer. But I was a protector, and I would be damned before I let Blake hurt anyone else I cared about.

My hands came together, and what they shaped looked a lot like a sword. Formed of power and ice, it glowed blue and hummed a peculiar note that resonated with the feeling of violence.

I held it before me and took a step towards Blake. Then another, stepping over and around the prone bodies on the floor.

“I know what you’re willing to sacrifice, Blake.” I said it as loudly as I could, hoping that everyone in the room could hear me. “I know you had two of your own people murdered just to cover up the truth of what you were doing.”

I was counting on Blake’s followers having no idea what a monster he truly was. If he’d recruited them using the same methods he’d used on me, he’d promised them a home. A family. All the power they could ever want. They had no idea they were disposable.

“And I bet you came here today knowing that very few of you would be going home. But what does it matter? You can always find more humans desperate for power.”

The sword hummed louder, and I watched Blake’s eyes widen as he realized what I’d done.

He reached for his neck and pulled out another gem. Another vessel of unknown powers, and a symbol of untold suffering.

His first attack was with fae magic. But he hadn’t been trained in the same harsh school, and his attempt fizzled and died against the blade of my sword. Fae magic could only best its own kind if it was stronger, and Blake had concentrated his efforts in other areas. He was a master manipulator and could spin a plot out of thin air, but he hadn’t survived the caves.

His second attack was with fire. Fae magic was known to be weak against fire, but the flames dissipated almost immediately when they encountered the icy blade of my weapon.

I smiled and took two more steps towards him, praying that Callum and Rath and Yolande could hold on.

“You might have more magic,” I taunted him, “but you have no discipline. You’re nothing without your minions, and you treat them as disposable. What are you going to do when they realize they’re just a means to an end?”

Blake’s forehead creased, his fist clenched, and I braced myself for whatever he might try next…

Directly in front of me, the floor heaved and buckled, shattering the tile. Beneath the bare, concrete bones, red dirt swelled, then split to reveal massive roots, growing and climbing and reaching as they crawled towards me. Dryad magic.

“Raine!” That was Callum’s voice. He sounded afraid, but somehow I knew that his fear was not for himself—it was for me, so I did not turn around.

There was a resounding crash from my left side as someone flew into a window, followed by a snarl from Yolande. She and Rath were both still fighting, so I planted my feet and stabbed my weapon deep into the ground. It sheared through the floor, through the concrete, through everything, and then I poured more power into the blade, sending veins of glowing ice shooting outward into the earth.

I could have sworn the roots screamed. Shriveled. Recoiled. Seared by the bitterly cold bite of wintry ice infused with burning fae magic.

And for the first time, Blake’s expression suggested the beginnings of caution—possibly even a hint of fear.

“You’re meddling with forces you cannot possibly understand or control,” he insisted harshly. “If you’re not careful, you’re going to kill the very people you’re trying so hard to protect. And have you forgotten what these same people will do to you after you’ve risked everything to save them? They’ve made you a criminal. And I can promise you they won’t hesitate to punish you for this very magic you’ve used to save their lives.”

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