Page 98 of A Fate Unwoven
His attention drifted back to Lena just as the mark on his hand darkened. Shadows bled from the threads around him, pooling in thepalms of his hands. And then, with a flick of his wrist, Roston flung the darkness toward her.
She shoved her own power forward just in time. The action was instinctual but weak. A protective shield of threads dispersed as quickly as they’d appeared, leaving her entirely vulnerable once more.
“You do not have the power to stand against us, girl. You are merely a vessel, a conduit for the Furybringer’s return.” He sent another blast toward her, and this time, the shield Lena created was barely strong enough to keep her on her feet. The remnants of the blast slammed into her, knocking the breath from her lungs and filling her veins with ice. “You feel her spirit, do you not? It is futile to resist. Lady Venysa will have you as her vessel, whether you are willing or not.”
Every part of Lena froze as his words sunk in. As, just as it had done that night in Forvyrg, the world around her stopped.
Go with him,Venysa’s voice urged.With your body, I can claim revenge for what the empire has taken from us, from every Fateweaver.
I don’t understand.It was hard to think through the pounding in her head.
I have waited centuries for the perfect vessel,Venysa said.Your rage, your fury, is so like my own.
A flurry of images went through Lena’s mind. Venysa on the stone table, the firstZværnapriests standing over her. Venysa running through the snow, her brother at her side. Venysa in a prison cell, the memory of her father slitting her brother’s throat repeating over and over. And then her father standing before her, telling her that they were going to find a way to ensure she could never run again.
It was too much. Lena tried to force the images—theemotions—out, but it was no use.
You must see. You must understand. Næbya never intended for us to be controlled, Lenora. The bond was originally created because of Her Sisters—as a way of keeping the power they had gifted their vessel in check—and when they found out She intended to break it and threatenedto reveal Her plans to the Order that worshipped them, She sealed them away.
More images flooded her mind: Næbya appearing before Venysa and agreeing to bind her spirit to the Fateweaver’s essence. Venysa being forced to attend the first Rite of Ascension before being confined to her chambers, her power considerably weakened. There was a man, telling her he’d found a way to sever the original bond, followed by a memory Lena had already seen: the man—the acolyte—sealing the chamber door.
Næbya has spent centuries trying to break that bond. This is why She made a deal with me, so I could carry out Her will. So that I would be Her avatar and rebuild the entire world in Her image. And in exchange, She will grant me the power to take revenge on the Ehmars for all they have taken from me. I failed with Lady Aalys,Venysa continued.Her affinity for seeing the threads of the past was not strong enough, and the church discovered I was behind her corruption before she could use the power theHæstahad helped her gather to unseal the chamber door.
An image of the Furybringer—Lady Aalys—rose in Lena’s mind, and for a moment Lenawasher, her mind filled with Venysa’s whispers, urging her to seek out more power. Power that, now that the bond was broken, Lena couldfeelsurging through her veins.
Every Fateweaver since has been loyal to the empire, a servant to their lies. But not you. You despise this empire as much as I do. And together, we shall put an end to them.
Lena saw herself, a field of bodies with severed threads before her, the earth beneath her feet as dark and twisted as Lena’s own threads. Not a vision of the past, but the future.
No!
All her life she’d feared the magic inside of her made her a monster. And if she gave in to Venysa, if she let her use her body to finish what she’d started all those centuries ago, then that fear would become reality. Because the Furybringer had not just used her power against theZværnaOrder and the imperial family; she had used it against everyone who refused to worship her.
Only you can decide who you are.A memory of her own, of Casimir in her chambers, his hand holding hers, was an anchor against the growing storm inside of her.Power isn’t inherently good or evil. It’s how you use it that counts.
Lena had risked everything to stop the empire from turning her into a monster, and Sisters be damned if she was going to let Venysa turn her into something worse.
Stop fighting me,Venysa said.You are not strong enough to resist me.
But Lenawas. She’d done exactly that in Deyecia, after Venysa had first tried to get her to give in to the pull of her magic. And she hadn’t achieved it by focusing on her fear, herpain.No, she’d done it by focusing on the memory of her mother. Of her voice whispering in her ear.
You are strong, Lenora. Do not let this power consume you.
Holding on to the thought of her mother, of Casimir cleaning the blood from her hand, of Maia telling her that, to her, she’d always just be Lena, she drew on her strengthened power and pushed against the mental intrusion.
There was the echo of Venysa’s rage, the pressure of her pushing back, and then Lena’s mind was her own once more.
The world sped back up a heartbeat later.
Lena threw the blade clenched in her hand toward Roston. With a snarl, the regent redirected his magic, the blast crashing into the blade now soaring toward him. But Lena hadn’t meant for it to hit its mark.
With Roston’s magic spread thin, his hold on Casimir weakened enough for the smuggler to break free. Casimir lunged from the shadows, twin blades whirring in the darkness.
Roston roared as the first blade sliced down his back, tearing through cloak and tunic to pierce the skin underneath. The bangle in his hand clattered to the ground as he whirled to face Casimir, his magic knocking aside the second dagger just before it could pierce his chest.
With what control she had left, Lena drew on of the Fateweaver’s magic, releasing it from her hands in a wave of power that knocked the regent to his knees. The stone pillars of the church shook, bits of dust falling from the arched ceiling overhead.
Blood, warm and wet, dribbled from Lena’s nose, a silent warning she was using too much power. Still, Lena willed her magic toward the regent’s threads, desperately searching for the one that would see them win this fight. But every time she tried to find it, to catch a glimpse of the future in his threads, pain would pierce through her mind.
