Page 87 of Awakened Destiny
My mates burst into the hallway with Eira trailing behind them, their faces twisted with horror at the scene before them. Lochan's eyes flare with primal fury. Rory has shifted partially, claws extended and ready.
"Get the fuck away from her," Marius growls at Laria.
Tiernan says nothing, but the temperature in the corridor drops several degrees. His rage is a tangible thing, cold and deadly as a winter storm.
I turn my back on Laria, probably a stupid, and face them, hands outstretched.
"Stay back. All of you."
Hurt flashes across their faces. They want to protect me. They don't understand that I'm protecting them.
"She's too dangerous," Lochan argues, taking another step forward. "Eira told us about the blood magic."
"I know what she's done." I keep my voice steady despite the thrumming power of the Morrigan coursing through me. "And I'll handle it. My way."
Eira moves forward. "Brigid, you don't have to face this alone."
The irony isn't lost on me. After her betrayal, she's worried about my safety?
"The ritual she performed," Marius says, his eyes fixed on Laria over my shoulder. "It's unstable. I can feel the corruption."
"That's why you need to stay back." My hands begin to tremble, not from fear but from the effort of containing the Morrigan's power, while keeping my focus on my mates. "If she loses control completely, I'm the only one who can contain the backlash."
I feel Laria shifting behind me, her breathing becoming more ragged, more desperate.
"But—" Callen starts.
"No." I cut him off. The shadows at my feet grow darker, responding to my emotions. "Trust me. Please."
That's what this comes down to in the end. Trust. After everything we've been through, I need them to believe in me.
"If you get yourself killed," Rory says, his voice rough with emotion, "I'll never forgive you."
"Neither will I," I reply. "Now back up. All of you."
They retreat reluctantly, but their postures remain tense, ready to launch forward at the first sign I'm losing control of the situation.
I turn back to Laria, whose skin has begun to crack like old pottery, black veins visible beneath the surface. Her eyes dart between me and my mates, calculating her odds.
Power gathers in my hands. Not the wild, destructive force Laria wielded, but something older. Deeper. The Morrigan's true gift. Not just destruction, but the power to choose when to wield it.
And when to withhold it.
I force my power down and take a single step toward Laria, my hands open at my sides, vulnerable, but deliberate.
"It's not too late, Laria," I say, my voice low but clear in the sudden quiet. "The ritual is consuming you. I can see it happening. You don't have to die for this."
Laria's laugh is brittle. She sways slightly, her body fighting against the unstable magic ravaging her from within.
I take another step forward. Blood drips from a cut above my eye, but I ignore it. "End this now. Let me help you contain the ritual's effects before it tears you apart."
I continue, risking more truth than I'd planned. "I know what it's like to be dismissed and overlooked. But this—" I gesture to her deteriorating form, "—this isn't power. It's self-destruction."
The shadows around us beat in time with my heart. My consciousness skims the edge of the Morrigan's magic, where I could draw enough power to end this instantly. But I hold back.
"You're pathetic," Laria spits, black fluid leaking from the corner of her mouth. "You have everything. Power you don't deserve, men who'd die for you. And you are still weak." She struggles to stand straight, her body contorting as the festering magic fights against her. "What do I have? Nothing! You appeared from nowhere and took what should have been mine!"
Her rage is a palpable thing. The ritual has amplified her emotions along with her power, turning her jealousy and bitterness into something monstrous.
