Page 138 of Dancing with Vipers and Shadows

That’s the least of the chaos unraveling before our eyes. The wind kindles a combustion reaction that causes the two sides of the candle to explode into wild flames of white and black.

If things couldn’t get any worse, I feel the vibration of the ground itself, prompting me to look past Alaric and even Asher as he lands on the ground to see the upcoming tsunami heading our way.

Before I can say something, Asher is running swiftly toward us, passing the elemental madness that’s happening around Alaric as if it doesn’t affect him.

The moment Asher reaches us, he spins around and claps his hands.

“Return what should have never been broken. Alla Le Vek No Rouche.”

The spellwork sends chills through me as the atmosphere intensifies around Asher with the outstretch of his arms in front of him. His spread hands charge with bolts of black and purple, and with a soft whistle from Asher’s lips, it feels as if the spell has sealed Alaric’s fate.

His screams are deafening, yet he still fights to get out of this invisible prison that I’m realizing is taking physical shape.

The golden arrow that still pierced deeply in Alaric’s chest glimmers brilliantly shoots a tiny beam of light a few feet into the air. The flames and visible threads of wind crash into the golden beam of light and ignite the next golden beams that multiply and arch downward to hit the expanded golden circle beneath where Alaric stands.

By the time I can truly grasp what the golden magic has created, the tsunami is only seconds away from hitting him.

“I’M WORTHY OF THE SOCIETY OF ROYALS!” Alaric screams at the top of his lungs, even as his flesh begins to melt from the excruciating heat and his skin is being ripped apart by the slices of wind. “I WILL REIG—”

He’s cut off by the crushing tsunami that consumes the golden cage created by Azrael’s arrow. It makes me wonder if there’s some hidden metaphor signifying Alaric’s captivity.

To be a captured tool in your own burning demise.

We prepare for the tsunami that heads our way, but before it hits us, the destructive waves crash into an invisible wall.

The wall that separates us from that side of death and this side that preserves the living.

I can’t grasp how long we stare at the sight that begins to fade.

Until we’re only looking at a reflection of the open path and tainted forestry and not the destructive sight of flooded evidence that displays what had transpired moments earlier.

“If this is your time to disqualify me, at least make sure Ophelia gets to the red pillar,” Asher whispers.

Moving my gaze to him, we share a solemn look as he works on catching his breath. He looks absolutely exhausted, but I can tell he carries not an ounce of regret about what he contributed to.

Him… and potentially Professor Blackbird?

“And why would you be disqualified?”

I look over to Professor Blackbird, realizing he’s completely turned around and has to look over his shoulder to acknowledge Asher’s statement.

“I…” Asher begins but stalls with a pout of his lip.

“There’s nothing I saw that deems you worthy of disqualification,” Professor Blackbird declares and puts his hands behind his head as if to stretch. “Shall we get moving? Unless you two wish to lose out on the final trial and die here together like Romeo and Juliet.”

“How romantic,” I comment, then lift my gaze up to Professor North, realizing he, too, isn’t peering in front of him but over at Professor Blackbird.

Did they really just ignore what transpired so that we could get a form of revenge?

“Shakespeare’s work is an appreciative form of art, you know?”

“To you,” Professor Blackbird notes and notices the way I look between them. He gives me a smile before he moves one of his hands from behind his head so he can press a single finger on his lips.

Replicating the same gesture I did in the library.

“I think that Lyrica book is something we should aspire to play out.”

With a wink my way, he’s taking the lead.

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