Page 102 of Echoes of War

Reina had left me a parting gift—one prick of the needle, and I’d received my share of the power I’d always desired.

Air magic was nice; it gave one the freedom to manipulate the world around them. Water magic had its benefits too; it was adaptable, fluid, easy to bend to one’s will since it was all around us. Having earth magic had a grounding, stable aspect to it. But fire magic … it was destructive, it gave one power, and it was exactly what I needed now.

How lucky I was to die knowing I could go peacefully, reconciled with both the cousin and friend I loved so dearly. The remaining soldiers under my command lined up at my side.

We faced our enemies and charged—an ear-splitting, furious yell tore from my throat. My soul blazed with determination as I focused on summoning the last reservoirs of my magic, flames flickering around my trembling fingertips.

Covert’s soldiers crept forward, eyes scanning the trees for more of my snipers. They were all dead. There was no need. This was my final act, and I refused to yield. I unleashed my fiery wrath, watching as they placed a weapon I did not recognize in my eyeline, setting it alight.

As a wave of light blue fire surged closer, searing heat washed over me. I accepted my fate with a chilling calmness. I closed my eyes. “I’ve played my part; have mercy on my soul for this is the end.”

Seth

Blood is everything. Strength is sustainable. Weakness shall not thrive.

I repeated the words every time the silence in the air turned my thoughts toward the people I loved in Monterey.The enemy.I slapped the side of my face, reminding myself of the words Malachai had beat into me. There was a lotta silence around me these days. The struggle over controlling my thoughts was intensifying. Dad had kept me locked up after the stunt I’d pulled getting that message across to Moe.

Love is an inconvenience, he’d scolded. It was a blessing that my father had been a victim to love or I’d be dead on the side of the road. He’d excused my behavior as desperation to keep the woman I loved alive, hadn’t seen it for what it truly was—a warningto them all.

If I wasn’t locked away, Malachai was glued to my side, making sure I stayed out of trouble. We’d been on the road for over a month. It was February now. The incident had happened at the beginning of January, but my dad hadn’t let up, intending to punish me as harshly as possible.

I deserved it. I had betrayed him.

It could be worse.

He could have stuck me in one of his labor camps. At least where I was now, I got to sleep. They didn’t sleep there. The whispers around camp had been so similar, I’d come to believe them as truth. The conditions were less than favorable, but we couldn’t feed everyone.

At least this way, their minds were kept busy with work and not their impending death. I’d like to think sitting and waiting for my death to come would be a far worse fate than working until you drop. On the plus side, theoutsidersgot a break and got to do the breaking. Even when we took prisoners, we didn’t take them for long.

Malachai was haulin’ ass toward the war tent we’d erected in between the Arizona and New Mexico border. His quick pace forced me to keep up. I tried my best not to trip over the chains around my ankles, bounding my strength and forcing it to remain at a human level. There would be no breaking free, not unless Dad wanted me to. Not except in the moments he used me to strategize against Monterey.

Prescott was dead because of me. I hadn’t been the one to commit those disgusting, hell-bound acts, but my dad had ordered me to lead the way under Malachai’s supervision. It was his life or mine, and I wasn’t yet ready to say goodbye to this world. His death was on me.

Another death for which I would never forgive myself for.

The sun beamed down on me, the brightness of it burning my sensitive eyes. It was a rather pleasant sensation on my skin,though. I couldn’t deny that I missed the heat of the west—of home.Damn it, no, Seth, Monterey isn’t home. Focus. Home is Montana. Home is Virginia. Home is where he is.

I shook my hair out, the breeze flowing through my hair still feeling unnatural. Dad had taken my hat, said I didn’t deserve it, crushing it under his heavy-ass foot, knowing it would be a blow to my soul. My hat was as much a part of me as my horses were. He’d taken that joy from me too, taunting me as they ran alongside the armored truck he traveled in.

Dark spots crossed my eyes as we entered the tent. No one was here but Dad and now Malachai and me. I stopped myself, taking him in for who he truly was. The infamous Ronan Moore. At face value, he didn’t look like much, but now I understood that there was always more than meets the eye. My dad’s pale skin had tanned in our travels. More freckles spotted his face, an extra wrinkle aging him from both the sun exposure and stress.

“Take a seat, son. Here’s your tea.” He ordered, hand motioning to one of the seats on the other end of his planning table, steaming flowed up from a metal mug. It was the only thing he let me have without earning. It was bitter, gave me migraines, made my head fuzzy, but it was something.

I sat down, glancing around at the maps on the wall. A shit ton of places were crossed off, largeXsover them like it was a quest map in a video game. He had stormed into Transient Nation, using his fancy trucks, cars, and his best horses to push our military across the continent faster.

Dad had set his sights on Monterey specifically but new information presented itself the closer we got. I wasn’t sure if I was glad for the redirection or not. His favorite Seer had received several visions of someone causing quite the ruckus in the future. Apparently, they were aware of how Seers’ gifts worked and had tailored their movements accordingly. Our Seers had no luck, too many versions of the future with no real pattern. They were erratic,always moving at random. A person with no name. At least none that we had been able to gather and none of their followers had offered it up.

They stayed in constant motion, raising a resistance as they moved through the territory. It infuriated my dad, not being able to stay ahead. He’d redirected our efforts, steaming through Transient Nation, terrorizing the good people we came across.

I had been forced to watch as he tortured people who refused to join our cause—the person of no name making it there before us, always one step ahead. Around the fifth maiming my stomach had gone weak. It wasn’t right. These people were innocent. None of them had been particularly powerful, yet I found myself questioning my dad’s true motivations. This wasn’t the mission, at least not the one I’d presumed we’d been under. Reina had tried to protect me from this, warn me that our dad was not the man I’d grown up admiring, and I’d betrayed her.

With witnessing each inhumane act came an accompanying lesson to me: if I so even considered changing my mind on whose side I was on, that was my future too. His actions had backfired and I couldn’t say I wasn’t glad. Son of a bitch deserved some flack for his cruelty. Anyone who caught wind of us being in the area fled for the closest border. They didn’t care where they ended up, Salem Territory or The Expanse. They were just glad to avoid us.

That meant they gained numbers though, and ours were limited enough as is. It didn’t matter. I was pretty sure what my father had planned would do exactly as he intended. My father always got what he wanted in the end.

“Am I speaking to myself, Seth Moore?” he said, snapping his fingers in my face.

I cleared my throat. “No, Dad. I apologize. I’m a bit hungry is all.”

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