Page 49 of Forged in Flame and Shadow

Still, I certainly have its attention.

It turns away from the korigos and comes for me instead. Gods, it’s quick. It’s cleared the length of the arena in seconds, and I can suddenly see every one of its rolling eyes, every detail of its glinting pincers as they hurtle toward me.

I twist to throw my body out of the way, but I’m not fast enough to avoid an excruciating pain stabbing into my left shoulder. I scream and wildly throw another sun beam out. The pain lessens a fraction, and I throw myself down, scrambling under the spider’s huge body to escape the reach of the pincers that just pierced my flesh. Looking up, I can see the monster’s hide is as thick across its belly as it is on its back. I won’t have any luck attacking it from below.

Wetness seeps through my shirt, and I tell myself it’s only blood, only a flesh wound. I have to trust that Respen would’ve mentioned if the aisthekis was venomous. He has to give the illusion of fairness, after all.

The spider is already turning as I clear its thorax and sprint across the arena. I throw sun beams over my shoulder to slow it down, my heart thudding harder each time I hear those pincers clicking a little closer to me, the sound like shears snapping open and shut.

There’s shouting somewhere above me, and I think it must be Leon. But I’m too focused on surviving to concentrate on his words.

Eventually, I run out of arena. The beast is still closing in, not scared at all of my sun beams. I throw my back against the wall, facing it head-on, thinking maybe if I time this right, I can start taking out its eyes. Most animals are less lethal without their sight, after all.

The aisthekis stops short, however, screeching and jerking one of its back legs. I peer round to see the korigos on it, its jaws clamped tight around the aisthekis’s bristly limb. The spider creature jerks its leg again with such force the korigos goes flying, but it immediately scrambles to its paws again and launches itself at another leg, teeth sinking in.

It’s buying me time—enough to come up with a better plan than taking twelve eyes out one by one.

Do what the korigos is doing. Go for the legs.

Not with sun beams. The legs are as well protected as the rest of it. I need to fight it with something the creature can’t defend itself against.

My orbital magic is easy to summon, because in this moment I want nothing more than to be rid of this creature. I let my power encircle each of those hairy, bristly limbs, and then let loose.

The aisthekis’s legs yank out from underneath it, pulled one way, then the other. More hideous shrieks erupt from it as all twelve of its limbs twist and mangle, tangled in each other as my magic tries to tug them in every direction.

It falls, unable to unsnarl its limbs, and opens its maw wide to screech even louder.

I send a sun beam burning straight down its gullet, cutting the noise short. The sunlight must burn almost straight through it, cooking its insides. An awful gargling noise follows as it slumps forward, and dark blood seeps from its eye sockets, running down to drip off the end of its pincers.

It’s horrible, and I feel like a monster for putting this creature through this. As terrifying as the aisthekis is, Respen said it tried to avoid magic users. It would’ve left me alone if he hadn’t engineered this awful test.

The test.

I’ve been so caught up in keeping the spider creature from snipping me in two that I’ve almost forgotten about Respen’s conditions. I look over the creature and see that it’s barely moving, its many eyelids slowly drifting closed. I fought it too hard, and now I might be too late to save it.

I glance toward the gallery, focusing only on the satisfied look on Respen’s face. He thinks I’ve blown it, that there’s no way for me to pass the test now.

His expression only spurs me on.

I throw my magic out toward the aisthekis, opening the connection wide. I know its wounds are severe, so it’s no surprise that I have to reach deep to find the telltale light.

Come on…

There, a flicker in the gloom. Yes, even this monster has a celestial spark. I don’t hesitate, pouring in my magic, throwing almost everything I have at the fading ember keeping it alive.I’m not worried about overwhelming the aisthekis. This animal is so large that I’m sure it can absorb pretty much any flood of celestial energy I throw at it, but this is different to the korigos. While that had been deprived and neglected, the wound on its neck wasn’t what was killing it. My magic couldn’t touch that cut, which means celestial power can’t heal the body directly. Instead, I can rejuvenate the inner flame, and that lets the body’s own magic heal it. So it’s possible undoing the damage I’ve done to the aisthekis might be beyond my ability, but I have one hope. If I used celestial magic to hurt it in the first place, its injuries could be more responsive to my power.

Like a fire catching, my hope rises as the aisthekis’s inner flame flares and strengthens. Will it be enough to soothe its wounds? I watch carefully and notice the flow of blood from its eyes slowing, then coming to a stop. The smoke drifting from its slack jaws dissipates, and I think for a second I see a golden light shining from within the depths of its open mouth. Then its pincers twitch.

It’s alive.

I don’t untangle its legs just yet. This creature is still dangerous, and I don’t need it charging at me again, but I know it’s turned a corner when its eyes open, looking around alertly.

Then something goes very wrong.

The spider’s eyes roll back, and it starts to shudder violently, like it’s been attacked. Before I can reach back out to see what’s happening with its celestial flame, it stops moving entirely.

“Ah, that is unfortunate indeed,” Respen’s voice calls down from the gallery. “It seems you could not revive it in time, Princess Morgana.”

Bullshit.

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