Page 112 of Sugar & Sorcery
My broom shook beneath its speed, gusts threatening to unseat me. The Cursed burst out of the shadows. Some brandished disjointed jaws snapping at the air. Others crawled, claws scraping stone, hunting my trail.
But I didn’t slow. I pushed closer… until something caught me.
Knotted fingers, like white-hot wire, coiled around my ankle. Agony slashed through my skin. I thrashed, my slippers smashing into a face split in two, but other hands seized me—my wrists, my waist, my legs. My broom lurched, wood cracking beneath the weight of the Cursed.
“No, no, no!” I screamed. “Hold on, please!”
A shard of stone struck the shaft. It splintered. The magic unraveled, thread by thread, and I fell. The wind tore a cry from my lungs before the impact crushed the breath from me. Pain exploded in my leg as it struck the ruins. I rolled across the cold stone, skin torn by jagged fragments.
I had to get up despite the pain because the Cursed were closing in. A mass bristling with yellow eyes, burning feverishly in their sockets. My broom lay beside me, utterly shattered. I grabbed the largest splinter of its shaft and raised it like a sword. Fine. It might not have been a legendary sword, and I didn’t know how to fight, but I refused to die here.
“Come on, then,” I snarled through clenched teeth. “Try me.”
But the Cursed recoiled, their dozens of yellow eyes darting between me and… something else. My heart leaped. They were retreating from me? Triumph swelled as I tightened my grip on my makeshift weapon.
“Ha! That’s right, run! I’m far more terrifying than?—”
The ground shook. A rumble. Deep. Low. I turned my head slowly. Very slowly.
Something—no, a thing—ripped through the ranks of the Cursed, flinging their bodies aside like twigs. A gale lifted the dust. I narrowed my eyes. I was sheltered beneath a massive chest. A gigantic black wolf, its fur streaked with golden lines pulsing beneath the skin. As the beast stepped back, its single horn revealed itself, curved, glowing, jutting from its brow like a blade of light.
“What the…” The words died on my lips.
“Take your filthy paws off my mistress, you idiots!”
“Aignan?”
I had no time to react before the wolf hurled himself at the Cursed. Fangs tore through flesh like parchment. Claws ripped. A horn of light shattered creatures into dust. Yeun joined them, astride his ostrich, which unleashed waves of ice. Chouquette, far too heavy to run, nestled in Éclair’s arms, her belly round and taut (stuffed with corpses, no doubt).
They had all come. But Aignan… Aignan was magnificent. Fierce. Radiant with savage power. My admiration curdled into horror. My breath locked, a frozen shiver ran down my spine.
“No. Aignan, you didn’t?—”
“I told you I needed some sucre d'or!” He laughed, triumphant and mad. “Who’s the strongest black lamb now, huh, you bunch of idiots?”
He circled me, cutting down the Cursed who dared come close. But tears blurred my sight. I rushed to him, crashing into his chest.
“You used your curse. Aignan, why? I told you to stay… You’re going to?—”
He lowered his massive head toward me. “You thought you could hide it from me? I snoop everywhere, remember. I’ll see Nyla soon. Don’t cry for me. I’m your lucky star, remember?”
“You’re not allowed to die,” I sobbed, clinging to his fur as if my arms alone could anchor him to this world. “Come back. Before it’s too late. Don’t leave me! Not you.”
But he was smiling. That damned stubborn smile that meant he had already decided. He closed his jaws around me with infinite care and lifted me onto his back. His gallop never faltered. Each stride carved a bloody path through the horde as he charged straight up the mountain. I clung to him, my tears scattering into the wind of his run.
Each step sent round black shapes rolling beneath us. They tumbled and smashed against one another. At first, I thought they were rocks. But no. The bodies of the Cursed. Or at least… what was left of them. Those spheres of darkness, those hollow shells, were all that remained of the ones who had perished.
My stomach twisted. I gritted my teeth, clutching tighter to Aignan. I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t lose him.
“I’ve never been good at farewells,” Aignan said, his voice strangely light, as if nothing were wrong. “But let me be a hero.”
“You already are,” I whispered, my throat hurting. “My best friend. My brother. My everything.”
I buried my face in his fur. Aignan had always been there. To imagine his basket empty forever… It was unbearable.
A small laugh escaped him. Aignan. Laughing. Now, for the first time. “Don’t be sad. I’ve never felt this good, this alive!”
I blinked, stunned. He should have been furious, raging at the world’s injustice. But he was happy.
