Page 102 of Dance of the Phoenix
The pressure grew impossibly worse until I had to cry out, as if that would relieve some of it. But all it did was somehow make it even worse.
“No matter,” I barely heard Atalon murmur. “Soon, you’ll be helpless, and then, I’ll—”
“Ha!” I barked out the laughter through the pain. “Y-your Tears ... won’t ... work on ... m-me.”
“Shut your mouth,” he snarled, and I realized he was a few steps away. “The Tears will work!”
He seemed to be growing angrier, which made the pressure worsen with every passing second, so much so he didn’t even bother questioning me about how I knew things I shouldn’t have.
But it was also good for me.Get even madder, Atalon.
“Fuck!” Atalon growled, seeing as I could still laugh while he attempted to infiltrate my mind. “Fuck!”
“T-Time . . . for p-plan . . . B,” I sputtered, grinning widely.
All of a sudden, the pressure was gone, as if it had never been there in the first place. “Cursed wench,” Atalon spit, glaring at me. I could see him better now that my vision wasn’t blurry from the pain. “Why? Why won’t it work?!”
“You should know better than anyone,” I said, finally able to speak normally again. “I’m a Child of Kahil, remember?”
Atalon’s eyes widened with the belated realization. Apparently, even Atalon had his dumb moments. And this one had just cost him.
Because according to Eliza, using the Tears of Euphorrey took a toll on its owner’s mind. And the longer the usage, the worse the damage would be.
Face contorting in fury, Atalon growled before he came at me full force.
And fast.
So fast I almost didn’t avoid his punch and didn’t manage to evade his kick to my already bruised ribs. Gritting my teeth, I kept myself at full attention, seeing the moment when he aimed for my legs and sidestepping his kick, but unfortunately, that meant his fist crashed into my gut, throwing me back a few steps.
He didn’t leave any openings or any room for rest. Atalon was fast, relentless, and powerful as he came at me over and over. I had to keep my reaction time at top condition, or he would literally beat me to a pulp. And that wasn’t an option.
Knowing my time stopping wouldn’t work on him, I didn’t bother attempting that. He didn’t even leave me time to try and get into the first Behest of Iovan’s Imperium, and I had a hunch that even if I succeeded, it wouldn’t work on him. He was too fast and too ferocious to fall for any trap, and Iovan’s Imperium was all about setting traps.
So I had no choice but to keep being on the defense, trying to come up with some sort of plan, seeing as he wasn’t slowing down anytime soon, and I was growing wearier the longer the fight continued.
I had to change the tides somehow.
He suddenly stopped his onslaught and stepped back, smirking when he saw I was short of breath. “If you thought the Tears were your only obstacle, then you were sorely mistaken,” he murmured, voice as silky and smooth as a snake’s scales.
Wiping the sweat off my face, I stared at him long and hard. He was a vampire Lord all right, but I knew the nature of his magic. I’d witnessed it myself. He could create paintings that captured a scene from a person’s past, present, or future, and once that person looked at the painting, they absorbed it, and it created a mental link with Atalon, allowing Atalon to learn everything about that person.
While it was a very powerful magic, I couldn’t see a way for him to use it in combat.
That is, until Atalon grinned and said, “We played long enough. It’s time to get serious, don’t you think?”
And after he uttered those words, the arena, Atalon, everything distorted, growing blurry, darkening, before sharpening yet again, creating a new space.
A familiar space.
A room.
Basement full of little tiny bodies.
Bleeding, disfigured bodies.
I stared at the sight, unable to process what I was seeing. Because I’d just been in the arena, in the middle of a battle of nerves with Atalon ...
But now I was back ... home?
