Page 103 of Terragnata and the Heir of the Earth

The room looked exactly as I’d left it when I walked out in my Skøl uniform just days before. My bed was made, undisturbed, the curtains drawn, late afternoon light streaming in.

But something felt off. I couldn’t place it. “Olea?” I called softly.

No answer.

“Something isn’t right,” I murmured.

I rounded the bed, continuing to survey the room. And as I did, my boot caught on a heavy obstacle.

A fat Drakkarian soldier lay face down on the ground, his body no longer obscured by the massive four poster. His trousers were down around his ankles and his breathing labored. To my eternal horror, beneath him lay Olea, lifeless eyes trained on the ceiling, a ring of black and blue bruises circling her neck, and a dribble of dark blood seeping from her mouth.

The world went silent.

And then it was very, very loud.

“You foul BASTARD!” I screamed at the top of my lungs, my head buzzing with a rage that made any logical thought inaccessible. I flipped the warrior off Olea, bunching his cloak in one hand, and struck his ugly tattooed face before his dazed eyes could even widen in surprise.

Crack went his nose. Blood trickled.Not enough.

Crack again. This time he screamed for help, and struggled to get free. More blood oozed.

Not enough.

Crack again. “Terra,”Leiya urged, and my gaze dragged to her. I’d forgotten she was there. I’d forgotten where I was, really. I only knew that in my hands I held the enemy, and perhaps pure evil itself.

I then saw why Leiya tried to get my attention. One by one, Drakkarian soldiers rushed into the room, until nearly ten of them filled it. They beheld the sight for a moment as if weighing whether the old soldier merited saving.

Bile rose in my throat, and I dropped my grip on him. Leiya’s hand twitched towards her blade, but she did not dare move.

“Princess?” one of them spoke, his dark eyes gleaming, his tongue rolling over his lips. He made a step towards us, but Ididn’t care. I only looked back at my friend and imagined how cruel her last minutes were. I trembled violently. Time froze around me. I let out another cry, a wail that shook the Earth holding together the walls of the palace. The warrior paused and looked at me, genuinely confused.

“Whyher?” I cried. “Why?” I pleaded with the gods. Why,whydid their cruelty have no end? First, my mother, my father, my brothers. Then Jana. Then Olea. Death seemed to follow me wherever I went, having no mercy on the innocent souls who couldn’t defend themselves against the havoc that trailed my path. The Drakkarian in the arena said it himself—they came for me.

Would Gia be next? Was she already gone?

My fault. My fault. My fault.

He made another step towards us, and said, “A serving maid? Why do you care? She is nothing.”

I was a volcano, bubbling with a veritable magma flow of emotion that would wreak havoc on anyone or anything in its path.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

INNER WORLD

Idon’t remember what came after. I must have lost consciousness. I woke up to hands pulling me out of my chamber, which crumbled with splintered wood and strewn stone, the walls no longer standing. Blood splattered what remained, bodies of Witch Warriors piled atop each other, shards of wood jutting out of them. Leiya was nowhere to be seen. And Olea… her body was left behind.

Two Drakkarians gripped my biceps so hard I thought they might pop. They dragged me away—away from the scene of death and destruction I’d created. Some hard metal—silver, most likely—coated their stiff leather, and I wanted to wretch away from it. I could feel their magic suppressing mine, like a damp rag on my soul.

I gritted my teeth through the gag they’d placed over my mouth.Olea is dead.I pressed my eyes shut, feeling the heat build behind them, wishing I could wake from this unending nightmare.Jana, too. At least she’d lived a full life. She’d made a choice—a sacrifice. But Olea… she was an innocent, caught in a king’s war. And perhaps, if I hadn’t given her a reason to return to my chamber, she would have made it out alive.

“I think we should take a detour, Gal,” the one on my left said gruffly. “Show this princess a true Drakkarian welcome.” He chuckled. “Besides, war is war. Weareentitled to our spoils.”

My insides turned cold as the Witch who’d spoken stopped and pulled me closer to him—he stank of mold and sweat. The Witch rested the tip of his nose on my head, and drew a long inhale. “For Nebbiolon trash, she smells quite appealing.” I looked up at a wide grin, revealing a smattering of rotten teeth. Hate coursed through me and I steadied myself to fight, to break free of their unnaturally powerful grips. But I was frozen and my reaction time delayed. I could only see Olea’s limp body, ravaged, her face blank.

“No.” The single word came from the other soldier, but it rang through me like a call. It held so much familiarity, a feeling I could not place. The long hood of his cloak still covered his likeness, and though I peered toward him, he revealed nothing.

The brute huffed and just shoved me along harder. “Fine, later then.”

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