Page 144 of Magical Mayhem
The courtyard blazed. Fire shot through cracks, erupting around him, forcing him back. For the first time, his form flickered, dimming where the light struck deepest.
I pressed harder, heat boiling in my veins, sweat pouring down my face. The fire wasn’t just Hedge flame. It wassomething older, something that surged through me with a hunger that wasn’t entirely mine.
The Flame Ward.
I could feel it. Its ember-deep pulse, its smoldering will. It had always been weaker than the others, faltering, dwindling. But now it was calling, answering, roaring through my blood like a furnace.
Malore staggered, his shadow peeling from his shoulders under the fire’s bite. His eyes narrowed, stormlight flaring.
“You think fire will save you? Fire burns all things, even those who wield it.”
“Maybe,” I said, my voice hoarse. “But fire also purifies.”
I thrust my hands forward, and the ground itself ignited. A torrent of flame roared toward him, wrapping vines of molten light around his form. He howled, the storm overhead flaring so bright it nearly blinded me.
For a heartbeat, he faltered. For a heartbeat, I thought I saw fear in his eyes.
And then he surged again, lightning cracking down his arms, splitting my fire in two. The shockwave knocked me backward, slamming me into the wall of the Academy. Pain flared white-hot across my ribs, my breath stolen clean away.
Through the haze, I saw him advancing, slower now but relentless. Each step was a quake, each breath a gale. Behind him, shadows still swarmed, though I caught flashes of fox-fire, rune-light, and witch-charms as the others fought to hold the courtyard. My father’s torch blazed, Twobble’s knife flashed, the students’ chants rose and fell.
But it was me he wanted.
“Come, Maeve,” Malore growled, his voice shaking the air. “Let me show you what true power looks like when blood binds to shadow.”
My body screamed in pain, but I pushed myself up, fingers trembling, and met his gaze.
“You’ll never bind me,” I whispered.
I pressed my palms flat against the cracked stone once more. Heat surged up my arms, deeper this time, brighter, wilder. Not just Hedge or flame. Not just mine.
The Flame Ward was awake.
My vision blurred, the world narrowing to the fire roaring through my veins. The ground beneath my boots glowed red-hot, cracks spreading outward like molten rivers. Malore’s eyes widened slightly, and for the first time, his stride slowed.
I drew in one burning breath, my chest alight, and knew, I wasn’t just channeling my own magic anymore.
I was carrying Stonewick’s fire.
And it was ready to burn.
The battle still raged around me, shadows clawing, shifters and witches crying out, lightning cracking through the storm. But all I could feel was the heat rising, the call of the Flame Ward burning inside me.
I clenched my fists, my body trembling, and braced myself for the next strike.
Because this wasn’t over.
Not yet.
The fire inside me roared.
Not Hedge fire, not the little sparks I’d coaxed from teapots and torches. This was older, deeper. The Flame Ward, once a dwindling ember collecting memories, was awake and coursing through me like molten rivers. Every heartbeat was a bellows, every breath a blast of heat. My skin prickled as though it could split open to spill the fire beneath.
The ground around me glowed, cracks spidering outward in red-hot veins. Malore slowed, his towering shadowed form recoiling as smoke curled from the edges of his fur. His laugh faltered into a hiss.
“Yes,” I whispered, my voice raw but steady. “You should fear this.”
And so should I.
