Page 148 of Kingdom of Chaos
But the truth is, I can’t win like this. One-on-one against Kerrim and Shadow Striker, I’m outmatched. Out-magicked. Too drained.
Every second we fight, he gets stronger, and I lose more ground.
I search desperately for a weakness, a flaw in his technique I can exploit. But there’s nothing. Every time he sends a wave of power at me, I stagger, closer to collapse. Every slash with the blade, he gets closer to cutting me. Closer to victory.
In the midst of everything, a memory bursts through the fog of battle. Talon’s voice in my parents’ shop, the day he told me the legend of Shadow Striker and the first Vampire King. The one who ruled through terror. The one who couldn’t be killed by brute force, no matter how many tried.
“The one caveat of Shadow Striker was that if anyone willingly sacrificed themselves for the wielder, the power he or she had gathered would be stripped from them.”
Sacrifice.
Not everything Talon told me that day was the complete truth. Some were half lies and misdirection, but I know in my heart sacrifice is the key.
It wasn’t brute strength that defeated the Vampire King. It was the love of the one who gave her life for him.
It wasn’t about being stronger, faster, more magically powerful. It was about being willing to lose everything for someone else.
I’m not sure how it works or why, but I’m suddenly sure that’s the dagger’s weakness.
And my only hope.
My heart clenches as the truth settles deep inside me. I don’t love Kerrim, but I would give my life to save those I love. That has to be enough.
I barely have time to process the thought as Kerrim drives the blade toward me, aiming low, a vicious strike meant for my gut.
I have time to twist out of the way, but I don’t, even as my instincts scream at me to dodge, to run. Instead, I root myself in place.
Someone shouts my name. Talon, his voice raw with terror.
I glance up, and there he is, sprinting toward me. The silver-and-gold threads connecting us flare like wildfire, leading him to me. His face is twisted in a look of horror, a silent plea in his eyes.
He thinks I’ve given up.
He couldn’t be more wrong.
I hold his gaze, hoping he understands, praying he forgives me.
And then it happens.
A white-hot explosion of pain tears through my gut as Shadow Striker sinks deep. My breath catches in my throat. It feels like fire and ice colliding inside me, a searing agony that radiates through every inch of my body.
My muscles lock, my vision dims. It’s not just my body the blade has sliced into, but my magic as well. I feel it being ripped away, drained like water through a sieve. It’s as if Kerrim is tearing my soul out through the blade.
A triumphant grin spreads across his bloodied face as he wrenches the dagger free. My knees buckle, and I collapsebackward, but strong arms catch me, lower me gently to the grass.
Talon.
His hands cradle my face, trembling as he leans over me, his breath ragged, his eyes wild with desperation.
“Freckles,” he chokes out, voice breaking. “What have you done?”
Forty-Four
Talon appliespressure to my wound, trying to stop the blood, and a scream tears from my throat because it feels like a blade stabbing me all over again.
“Hold on, Freckles. Hold on. It’s okay. Imogen’s going to get a healer.”
Imogen? Was she here? I didn’t see her. But my vision is as fuzzy as my brain.
