Page 83 of Court of Heathens

I want his death for daring to touch what is mine.

I let it fuel me, and I consume it. I feed on the death I control, on his pain and power, until I’m full enough to burst. The entire city dies below me, and I become what I never wanted to be—evil.

I become like him and our ancestors.

I become a true necromancer.

A noise from one of my men brings me back. Releasing my hold on him, I drop him to the ground. His powers are stolen, and now he is nothing but a weak, dying mortal. Ignoring him, I step to the roof edge to check on my men. I see them below, climbing to their feet, alive and well, and relief pulses through me alongside the mocking darkness covering my soul.

It’s begging for me to kill them and taste their power, telling me how wonderful it would be.

I turn away from them before I do just that, unsure how muchcontrol I truly have right now. I became this to keep them safe, and I know how this ends—with my death. I will not take them with me. It is my sacrifice . . . my choice.

The necromancer kneels before me, blood pouring from his eyes and lips, yet they tilt up in a smile that should make me feel cold all over, but I already am.

“There it is, our greatest weapon—you. This was all for you. Go, Freya, and be our vengeance. Be the evil they called us. Ruin them for what they did to us. This was always my destiny, and this was always yours.”

I frown, not understanding until it dawns on me.

He wanted it to end this way.

He planned all of this so I would embrace the darkness inside and become what he needed—a weapon against the gods.

He was willing to die for his ideals like he demanded of me, and as I stare into his eyes, his smile only grows. He gave it all so I would become this, and I played right into his plan. This was never about ending it . . . . It was about starting it.

This was just the beginning. There is no going back now, and we both know it.

“What have I done?” I whisper, and I stumble back in horror.

“What none of us could do. You have become our future.” He grins, blood still pouring down his face.

There is so much power inside me, there will never be any going back.

“Freya!” is shouted from below.

I hesitate to turn and face them and let them see what I have become. Suddenly, something echoes through the air like a horn—a warning.

A sense of an ancient rivalry and anger demands I kill them before they kill me.

I turn in horror, racing to the edge of the building and leaping onto the lip as the heavens open and bright sunlight cuts through the darkness.

The gods arrive in a halo of righteous fury.

They pour into the air, all dressed in armour, and they have so much power, it thickens the air.

For a moment, I meet Phrixius’s eyes, which are filled with fear as he stares at me like I’m a stranger as the gods descend around us, taking in the scene.

I feel their eyes on me.

“Abomination!” one roars.

It is not me they are speaking to, though, and I follow their power breathlessly, watching as it arcs through the air, aimed like a spear at the ground below, where Adder and Sha stand, staring up at me.

My scream of horror rips through the air as magic closes around Sha. He turns, reaching for me, and then suddenly, he is ripped away from this world. My soul shatters when I cannot feel him anymore.

Phrixius heads my way, but more magic slams down into the earth, glowing brightly like a circular prison, surrounding Adder. He glances from the gods to me, his mouth tilting in a smile. “I love you, little witch,” he calls as chains slither around his body and drag him to his knees. They start to glow, and his jaw clenches, but he never once cries out or looks away.

“No!” I fling my magic, but it’s too late. The prison glows brighter, and suddenly, he’s gone as well.

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