by Maya Motayne
The stream of obsidian magic reared back like a snake before darting forward at her chest, pouring into her heart. She felt it surging through her veins, singeing her inside and out. It was as if she were housing the sun itself. As it lanced through her, Finn refused to do what Ignacio had said. She refused to turn to the part of her who had killed for him, who left others behind without a thought, the part of her who believed she was monstrous enough to house this magic. Instead, she clung to the look on the prince’s face—a look of anguish that could only come from losing someone worth having. Someone too good to carry this evil inside of her.
There was no doubt in her mind that she would die in a mere moment, extinguished by the dark magic like a candlewick between wet fingertips. But if you could die in a moment, then maybe you could live in one too. And if she could choose a moment to suspend, to hold gently between her palms, she thought, it might be this one: with the prince’s eyes on hers and the knowledge that she was not who Ignacio had said she was. She was herself.
She bit back a scream, maddeningly full of power. Finn hunched forward, her hands on the ground, her fingers curling against the ballroom floor as she waited to shatter, to burn into nothing, to finally live in a world where Ignacio could not find her. Then she went still. The pain stopped and there was only immense power.
“Finn?” she heard the prince say, his voice thick with hope and fear.
She opened her eyes and by the look on his face, she knew her eyes had blackened. Yet, somehow, she still was of her own mind. Shock and relief burst inside of her, flowing under her skin like a cool stream. She was still herself. She didn’t know how long that would last, but she was still here.
“Try to get free and wake up Xiomara. Stay out of the way,” she said before turning her back on his surprised face and striding down the ballroom to meet Ignacio at its center. No matter how much time she had left, she would use it to take Ignacio down with her. For herself and for her parents, she would put him in his grave.
“Finally,” Ignacio sighed as his black eyes found hers. “Like father, like daughter. You’re mine to guide once more. Now, kill the boy.”
His words were the pull of a weak current. She walked through them.
Ignacio’s eyes narrowed. “I said kill the boy, Finn.”
She was tired of listening. She took off in a run toward him, her fists raised.
Ignacio gave a sharp laugh—half delighted joy and half fury. “Of course. You’ve always been a maldito fighter, but I’ve always been able to break you.”
Finn swallowed his words and made them fuel her, stoke the unbearable anger within her. With a swipe of her hands, twin boulders rose from the ground and hurtled at him. Ignacio waved a hand, and the boulders exploded into pebbles at his feet.
“Come now, Finn,” he tutted. “What’s the point in this? Why not join me? Forget the boy, forget the world. You were most yourself when you were with me.”
“You made me whoever you wanted me to be. You made me forget who I was. You took them from me.” She closed the distance between them and with one powerful swing her fist met his jaw, sending him flying backward. He collided with the king’s and queen’s thrones, shattering them in an explosion of sound and dust. But he rose from the rubble laughing. For a moment his jaw bled profusely, but before her eyes it healed shut.
“No,” he said. His steps were slow and unbothered. “I showed you who you are. I freed you from a mediocre family, a mediocre life. It’s not my fault you didn’t like what you saw when you learned who you truly were. That under all of those faces you’re just like me.”
She closed the distance between them, gripped him by his cloak, and slammed him into the ground. The stone of the ballroom floor cracked under the force of her strength. She landed another punch to his jaw. “You took my family from me and told me what to see.” Another punch. “You lying.” Another. “Manipulative.” Another. “Pendejo!”
But he was laughing at her, his broken face further split by his smile. It healed in moments. Finn pulled him up from the ground roughly and landed punch after punch, kick after kick. With an angry cry, she pelted him with a boulder that she pulled from the ballroom floor. She sent him flying across the room again, blasting him against the stone wall. He slid off the wall, landing on his knees before standing sinuously, as if nothing had happened.
“I already told you,” he growled, his patience running thin. “Don’t think I can’t love you and hurt you. I can do both.”
He dropped into a low stance and with a quick round of jabs, stones as large as the prince flew toward Finn at lightning speed. She dodged the first volley and broke another boulder into pieces with a punch. But the last stone came too fast. She raised her arms against it, and it hit her full force in the chest, throwing her backward, skidding on the palace floor.
“How long are we going to do this, Mija?” Ignacio asked, flexing his fingers. He pulled water from the air, freezing it into spikes. She felt them burrow into the flesh of her arms; one tore through her collarbone and she couldn’t stop herself from crying out. “Why not let me be your father?” he said, beseeching. She hated how good he was at sounding like everything he did was for her. Out of love. It wasn’t. It never was.
“Stop it.” She rose shakily as he closed the distance between them.
“You have to do what you must to teach your children respect. Even if it hurts.”
She moved to break through the rock, but Ignacio’s voice cut through the air like a knife. “Don’t move,” he commanded, engaging his propio.
She froze.
Then he was in front of her. He gripped her gently by the jaw, his fingers rubbing slow circles against her skin. “Look at me.”
Her head rose slowly. Her body shook as she tried to resist. Not even the black magic in her was enough to fully resist him.
“Love me like you used to. When you were little. Think the world of me like you did back then,” he said, his voice soft and desperate.
Finn smiled softly up at him, a look of wonder on her face.
Ignacio’s face softened. “You love me now? You truly do?”
Finn nodded, her eyes wide and blank. “I always have.”
Tears gathered in his eyes. “You’re mine again.” With a wave of his hand the stones holding her to the ground fell away. He pulled her into a crushing embrace. “Today is the beginning of our new life. Things are going to be good again. Perfect. The world is ou—”
His breath caught in his throat and Finn felt blood gush over her hand as she drove her dagger deeper into his back, through to his heart. She gave the dagger a sharp twist.
“You loved me . . . ,” she heard him whisper, his voice dwindling to nothing.
She pulled back and looked in his wide eyes. “Don’t think I can’t love you and hurt you. I can do both,” she said, parroting his words. He’d commanded her to love him as she once did. But she never had. Her love for him had never been real. The command had meant nothing.
His blackened eyes found hers one last time, wide and vulnerable as if, for once, he was going to beg her forgiveness. He reached a hand out to her, his fingers grazing her cheek, the touch sending a chill down her spine, as he fell backward onto the stone ground. His eyes stared unseeing at the ceiling. Ignacio was still with death, but the tension curled tight inside Finn would not loosen. She couldn’t let herself believe that she was finally free of him. That he’d finally paid for what he’d done to her, and who he’d taken from her.
With a shaking breath Finn watched the corpse, fearing that he would rise again with that smile on his face. But he didn’t. He was finally dead. Finn had always feared that part of her would be saddened at the loss of Ignacio, that she’d regret ending his life if she ever got the chance to, but she felt nothing but freedom running through her, like wind through her hair. She didn’t care if enjoying a kill made her a monster; any monster who put an end to Ignacio was a saint in their own right.
Finn looked over her should
er for the prince and made to shout for him to hurry and use the dragon to seal whatever was about to burst from Ignacio, but Alfie was no longer alone. She started at the sight of Bathtub Boy beside him. Luka looked strangely untouched, as if the battle in the palace had never happened. There wasn’t a scratch on him.
The realization stunned her. An idea flickered into existence in Finn’s mind.
She knew how to stop this magic.
Before she could shout for the prince, the black magic that had been growing in Ignacio’s body surged out of his corpse, his body crumbling to nothing as it escaped. The stone hands peeled away from his skin, re-forming into their original shape.
Her heart sputtered as the magic rose in a curling black wave before her, poised to swallow her whole. She wanted to run, to close her eyes and wish it away, but she couldn’t let this magic escape. She thought of Alfie, staring at his hands in horror after he’d been made to hurt her. There was too much at stake in this room and beyond for her to let it go.
She’d told the prince that she’d spent her life watching bad things happen without lifting a finger to stop them and that she’d wanted to end that. She’d asked him to believe in her and he had, the very same way her parents once had and would have now if they were still here.
Now it was time to prove it.
She could carry the echo of magic from Alfie’s dragon. Maybe she could contain this. Give him some time to trap it.
“Take me,” she said to it. She’d never been more afraid in her life. “Take me.”
The magic curled around her like a great snake before forcing itself into her mouth. Her mind clouded with the power. What was in the dragon figurine was a terrifying boost in strength, but it was nothing compared to this. This was the source of it all. This was too much. This . . .
You are so close to the dark, my child, so close. The black magic purred in her ears, soft as velvet. She felt the cold of the stone hands as they skittered up her body like spiders to lie over her arms. Turn to it. Let it take you. You and I will rule over an earth scorched black. There will be no more fear, no more sadness, for there will be no more hearts to feel, only you and I. Surrender, my child. Surrender to who you are.
She ground her heels into the floor, trying to fight its control, but as the stone hands wrapped around her skin, it eclipsed her.
You asked me to take you. You will hold to that promise.
Then she could think of nothing but the hunger. Nothing but the need to stretch over this kingdom like a wave of darkness.
With Ignacio gone, the strings fell away and Alfie dropped to the ground like a stone. She’d done it. She’d done the impossible before his eyes. She’d beat Ignacio at his own game. But the magic. The magic would fly free. And the hands too, those needed to be contained! Alfie struggled to his feet, his eyes on Finn. He needed to get to her, to seal it before— A loud creaking pulled Alfie’s gaze upward. A huge chunk of stone framing the ballroom’s glass ceiling had come loose, swinging like a baby tooth. Then it was falling, careening toward him.
Alfie threw his hands uselessly over his face but the rock never hit. He dropped his arms, and looked up to see Luka holding the gargantuan boulder in his hands like an avocado at breakfast.
“Miss me, sourpuss?” Luka said before hurling the stone to the far side of the ballroom.
Alfie’s mouth hung open in shock. “What just . . .” He gestured wildly at the fallen stone.
Luka looked uncharacteristically sheepish. “Well, it appears that I have superstrength?” His voice lilted at the end of the statement, as if Luka were asking himself if it were true.
Alfie blinked up at him before pulling him into a fierce hug. When they parted he asked, “How?”
“No clue.” Luka shrugged. “I have to assume that it developed naturally. Like my good looks and sense of humor.”
Alfie grinned up at his best friend before remembering that he still needed to get to Finn and use Xiomara’s void to get rid of the magic for good. He didn’t know if he could save Finn from the magic she had taken in. But he would try.
Luka looked away from Alfie and blanched. “Alfie, something’s wrong.” Luka pointed forward.
Finn stood before them. She looked hungry.
“Finn,” Alfie said hesitantly. She cocked her head at him, then grinned and began a slow walk to them.
Alfie rose to his feet. “Luka,” he whispered, his voice taut. “Run.”
Luka shook his head. “I won’t leave you.”
“I need you to do something else for me,” Alfie said, his voice shaking from the pain of standing with the bruised ribs he’d gotten from being thrown against the wall. “Wake up Xiomara. We need her to banish this magic, do you understand? Wake her, otherwise we’ll both die.” He pushed Luka behind him.
“All right,” Luka said, worry in his eyes. “Be safe.” Alfie felt a little less afraid when he heard Luka’s footsteps dashing toward Xiomara.
“Finn,” he said, walking toward her. “You know me. I know you can hear me, I know you’re a fighter. Break free of it.”
This was different from when she’d taken in the magic of the silver dragon. Now there wasn’t a semblance of her left. She’d taken the magic that had been inside of Ignacio. She’d made the sacrifice to contain it. But she had to break free. He couldn’t kill her to get control of the magic. He wouldn’t.
She said nothing, approaching him with measured steps before she thrust her arm out and a pillar of stone jutted from the ground in front of Alfie, pelting him in the stomach with such force that he fell to his knees, clutching his middle.
“Alfie!” Luka cried out from Xiomara’s side. Alfie gasped in pain as he forced himself upright.
“Stay back, Luka!” he shouted. “Stay away.”
Finn didn’t even seem to notice Luka. She kept advancing on the prince. Alfie felt his heart leap when he looked down and saw a sliver of her shadow still clinging to her feet, dragging behind her. She had to be fighting it. Part of her was still there.
Finn thrust her arms forward and a barrage of flame followed. Alfie leaped out of the way, deflecting the flame with a weak wave of water. She followed him, still moving slowly. Almost hesitantly. She was fighting. Trying.
There had to be a way to pull the magic from her and back into the dragon without killing her. He would subdue her and try to pull it out of her somehow. If that didn’t work, he would have to go for her heart.
With a word of magic, Alfie raised sharp shards of glass from the shattered windows and grimaced at where he’d have to hit her—the places that would slow her down. Her knees, her stomach.
“Volar!” he said. The glass shot forward and dug into her skin. But they dislodged and fell away as she moved, her flesh closing over the wounds.
She was finally upon him, an arm’s reach away. For a moment she paused, her body shuddering.
“Finn,” Alfie said, his heart breaking. Her black eyes narrowed as her hand shot out and gripped him by the neck, raising him off the ground with ease. Alfie swung his legs forward and kicked her in the chest, sending her stumbling. She dropped the dragon necklace as she fell.
Alfie fell to the ground with a grunt of pain, and as she tried to rise, he tackled her and held her down. He grabbed the dragon where it fell beside her and put his hands on her chest, feeling the magic coursing through her, beating out of her heart. He focused and tried to pull it out. But the magic resisted, coiling itself tighter within her. His propio wasn’t helping. The core of this black magic couldn’t be tricked into listening to him just because he’d dyed his magic black.
He would have to kill her, there was no choice. His heart ached at the thought, but he knew it was right. For his people, for the world, he couldn’t afford to be selfish again the way he’d been when he’d saved Luka. He couldn’t afford to not think of the consequences of his actions. His eyes burning, Alfie wrenched the dagger from Finn’s own belt and made to plunge it into her chest.
Her black eyes l
eveled him with a glare as she gripped his wrist, stopping the dagger just before it grazed her chest. With her other hand she shot a stone at his chest. Alfie flew backward again, skidding to a halt a few strides away from her. His ribs burned with pain. He couldn’t help but scream in agony, his fingers curling with pain against the stone floor.
She stood up and walked to him slowly.
As she closed the distance between them, he formed a spike of ice in his hand. Now was the time, now he had a perfect shot. He had to do it. For his family, for his people.
Then Alfie heard fast footsteps. Luka stood between them, a globe of flame hovering in his hand.
“Keep away from him!” he shouted.
“Luka, no!” Alfie cried.
“Run, Alfie,” Luka said over his shoulder. “Get out now!”
Finn didn’t hesitate. She grabbed Luka’s arm with both hands, her eyes narrowed to slits.
“No!” Alfie screamed. Finn gave his arm a sharp twist and Luka screamed in pain. Alfie could only think that this was how he would die—at the hands of a friend while his best friend died beside him.
But death didn’t come. Finn stood frozen, then she dropped to her knees, and the black magic poured out of her open mouth like a thick, syrupy smoke. The dragon trembled in Alfie’s hand. He held it up and watched in disbelief as the magic flowed like a river of black into the silver dragon. And not just the core of the magic that had infected Finn but all its echoes. The black magic that had been plaguing the rings of the city crashed through the windows and domed ceiling of the palace. Shattered glass rained on them as the black magic flowed into the toy. In a mere moment it was all over and the magic was locked tight in the palm of Alfie’s hand. Finn fell onto her back, the magic wrung out of her. Alfie gasped with relief. Somehow, she was still breathing.
The stone hands lay beside her, completely still. With the magic trapped again without a host, without so many bodies to bolster its cause, the hands had fallen still once more.
And Alfie hadn’t even had to use his blood to do the sealing magic or use his propio to trick the black magic into the figurine. It stayed in the little dragon without a fight. His heart leaped in his chest. The magic was trapped in the dragon, but he was no longer connected to it. It would no longer be able to hurt him, drain his life into it.
