“A psychopath? Maybe he shouldn’t be winning any Father of the Year awards.”
“You know, you’re pretty cocky for someone who’s about to die.”
“I heard Maximus; you aren’t supposed to kill me.”
“I wasn’t really supposed to kill him either.” She gestured to Gregory. “But we see how well that turned out, don’t we?”
“Anastasia,” he murmured.
Her eyes shot to him, wide and dilated. In them he saw barely leashed control. He shook his head, urging her to not use her power.
“I’m tired of talking to you.” Anastasia lunged, her dagger aimed for Ophelia’s chest.
Ophelia dodged the attack, bouncing on the balls of her feet. “Oh! Kitty has claws!” She laughed and stabbed at Anastasia. When she missed, she tried again, but her body whipped into the air and slammed against the wall.
When Ophelia recovered from the hit, her eyes widened.
Gregory followed her attention, gasping when his gaze landed on his daughter.
Anastasia glowed with power. Light illuminated the room, and she held her palm up to conjure a ball of light. Instead of a peaceful orb of white light, like the ones he’d taught her to create, a flame danced in her palm.
“No,” he whispered. He couldn’t lose her, not now.
“What are you?” Ophelia whispered.
“More powerful than your Master could ever comprehend.” Anastasia whipped the flame at Ophelia, and it burned a hole through the girl’s chest. She crumpled to the ground.
“Come back, Anastasia,” Gregory whispered as she moved toward him. Her eyes glowed orange, her body alive with power unlike any he’d ever seen before, even in Vincent. For a moment, he was afraid of what she might become. How was he supposed to keep her safe when he knew his own life was coming to an end?
“Anastasia, think of Dakota,” he urged.
Her eyes slowly faded back to their normal blue, and she fell to his side.
“There you are.” He slumped against the floor.
“Dad, I’m so sorry. I should have been here.”
“It’s not your fault, Anastasia.” Blood pooled on the floor, and she grabbed a small blanket to put pressure on the wound in his side.
“Hold this.” She stood and ran into his room, returning with the vials of healing potions Annabelle had made all those years ago. She began opening the vials and pouring them onto his wound.
“I'm afraid I’ve lost too much blood, Anastasia.” Gregory gripped her wrist, and she set the vial down.
“No, there has to be something I can do!” she yelled, tears streaming down her face.
“I’ve lost too much blood. Please stop, my dear.” He gently touched her cheek.
“There has to be something I can do,” Anastasia repeated, her voice cracking under the weight of defeat.
“I am so proud of you, Anastasia, you must know that. You are so much more than I could have ever imagined.”
“Please don’t leave me,” she cried, resting her face on his chest.
“I will never leave you, Anastasia. I will always be here with you—” His breath caught, and he stared up at her as the last of his life faded away. “I. Love. You.”
34
Anastasia
The pale lavender light of dawn began pouring in through the windows, and she lifted her head. Her eyes were swollen from crying, and her body ached from last night’s fight. The heavy emptiness of loss settled into the gaping hole where her heart once dwelled.
She gently laid Gregory back and moved to kneel beside Ophelia’s body, then grabbed her by the feet and dragged her from the house, determined to not have the murderous traitor anywhere near Gregory, alive or dead.
Leaving Ophelia’s body on the path outside of the house, Anastasia returned to gather the rest of Annabelle’s healing potions and her knives.
With one last look at her father’s dead body, Anastasia roared in anguish, and Kaley raced to her side, pressing her body against Anastasia’s.
When her anger dissipated to a low hum, she and Kaley stepped from the house, gathered Ophelia’s body, and walked through the trees and down the dirt path toward the center of the village.
They rounded the corner of her street, and—
Tony skidded to a stop in front of them. “Anastasia! Thank God! I was just coming to—” He searched her gaze, his eyes wide, then his attention dropped to the body at her feet. “What happened?”
“She killed Gregory,” Anastasia responded tightly.
Tony’s face contorted in agony. “No.” He shook his head. “How did everything go so wrong?” he screamed. “How did we not see this coming? They were on us so fast we didn’t even have time to shut the gate!”
“I should have been here, Tony. I’m so sorry.” A lump formed in her throat.
“They would have attacked whether you’d been here or not.”
“But I would have been able to help.”
“From what I remember, you did help. I saw you come through that gate.”
“I should have used my magic.”
“You did everything you could, Anastasia.”
Gregory had never taught her to use anything lethal. Why hadn’t he trained her to use that type of power? She didn’t know until faced with Ophelia that she even could. But still, shouldn’t she have at least tried?
“I should have tried,” she said, voicing her thoughts as Tony tossed Ophelia’s limp body over his shoulder.
“Had you been here, you might have been caught just as off guard as the rest of us were. That little prick Maximus came in first, and we were so distracted by his return that no one was watching the gate. He killed his own mother, Anastasia.”
She gasped, and then closed her mouth, her jaw clenched. “Is he dead?”
“No, the coward bailed once the fight turned to our advantage.”
“I’m going to kill him,” Anastasia growled.
“I think that’s a damn fine plan.”
They continued walking, and Tony flung Ophelia’s body into a pile of dead Brutes on a wooden cart.
Good, take her away and let her ass burn just like them.
“I’m sorry about your father, Anastasia. He was a great man and a wonderful friend. He loved you very much.” His eyes filled with tears, and he pulled her in for a hug.
She returned it, but stepped away after a few moments. “I’m not going to think about it now. There will be a time to grieve when all this is over, but the war needs to end.” She turned to study the carnage before her. At least half the main buildings had been destroyed and still smoldered from the fires.
More than three-dozen bodies lay covered in blankets near the fire pit.
Her one mistake had led to the deaths of over thirty-six of her friends. People she thought of as family.
She searched frantically for Brady, and was relieved to see him sitting up at the base of one of the few structures that hadn’t burned. In his arms, he cradled Emma’s limp body.
Anastasia whimpered as pain gripped her chest, then pressed her fingers to her lips and straightened her shoulders. Brady needed strength right now, no matter how Anastasia’s own heart suffered.
She walked over to him. “Brady?”
“They killed her,” he whispered without looking up. He brushed a strand of hair from Emma’s face. “She wasn’t even fighting. She was just trying to get away and they chased her down. I should have been there, but I just didn’t make it in time.” He pulled her to his chest, and Anastasia placed her hand on his shoulder, squeezed gently, then left him alone to grieve.
Selena hugged Sarah against her body and stared out at the carnage. Anastasia was relieved to see that both Brady’s mother and sister were alive.
“You good?” Shane asked as he approached. She shook her head. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned into his body, grateful for the comfort.
“Ophelia killed my father.”
“Shit, Anastasia, I’m so sorry.”
She swallowed the hard lump in her throat, and it burned with the need to weep. There is no time for grieving. She repeated what she’d told Tony, took a deep breath, and straightened.
“Are you okay?” she asked. A large gash along Shane’s jaw had been hastily taped up.
“I’ll survive. Maximus caught me off guard.”
“I’m glad you’re alive.”
“I’m glad you’re alive.” He repeated.
She nodded and looked back out over the carnage the monsters had left in their wake.
Her father had taught her to not fight with anger in her heart. He believed doing so made the Fighter weak.
But strength rose inside Anastasia as she allowed the rage to settle into her soul. It filled each crevice, each tiny crack, replacing the pain of loss—Dakota, Annabelle, and now, Gregory—with a burning hot need for revenge.
Men, women, and children who had done nothing lay dead on the ground, all because of a man who believed he deserved to rule, simply because he had more power than others. A man who believed he was better than them.
Anastasia wanted—needed—to feel his blood run down her hands as she shoved her sword into his heart. Ophelia was the first person she had ever killed, and Anastasia felt no guilt over that death. The bitch had gotten what was coming to her. It was time she delivered the same fate to the man who kidnapped her and sent her to live a world away from her parents, with monsters that tortured her for seventeen horrific years.
Vincent was the reason she had suffered. He was the reason she had only known her real mother for a few measly months. And he was the reason she was utterly and completely alone now.
Gregory had been trying to keep the war from starting; Anastasia recognized that fact even years ago when he started training her.
But the way she saw it, this war began the day Vincent ripped her from the loving family she deserved.
And it was well past time to end it. No more sitting around. No more waiting for his armies to attack. Being on the defensive had gotten them nowhere.
Brady joined her and Shane, standing tall at her side. She turned to him and searched his gaze, finding only resolve. He would follow her into battle if she asked him to.
“Gregory?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I'm sorry, Anastasia.”
“I'm sorry about Emma.”
Tony joined them, standing beside Shane.
“What is the plan?” he asked.
“We are going to end them. All of them.”
She didn’t have to look at the men by her side to know they agreed.
Brady’s young heart had suffered the devastating loss of someone he loved, and Tony and Shane had just lost too many of their people to count, along with Tony’s best friend in the world. They were just as hungry for revenge as she was.
It was time to stop waiting around for Vincent’s army of Brutes to attack.
Anastasia had a prophecy to fulfill, and she was more than ready for the task.
Anastasia stared out at the faces of the survivors. It had been a long twenty-four hours, but together, the villagers had begun picking up the pieces of their shattered village.
Victims had been buried, the Brutes bodies had been burned, and as she looked from person to person, Anastasia swelled with pride. Though defeat was evident in the eyes of those that gazed back at her, something else burned just below the surface.
Fire.
“We all saw what happened last night, what’s going to continue happening unless we put a stop to it,” Tony began, speaking loudly to be heard.
“What do you think we’ve been trying to do all these years?” one of the Fighters responded.
“Not enough,” Tony shot back.
Anastasia put her hand on his arm. Tensions were high; infighting wasn’t going to help.
She rose to her feet. “We’ve been doing our best to play catch up, to recover after each attack. But, other than trying to bring the other villages to us, what have we really done?”
Murmurs began, but no one spoke up.
“We have allowed these beasts to run rampant in our world long enough,” she shouted. “It’s time we take the fight to them! It’s time we flush them out of whatever cave they’re hiding in!”
Some people cheered, but still, many whispered amongst themselves.
“We’ve spent years trying to find them,” a man in the crowd yelled. “There are dozens of those caves. It’s impossible to know which ones to check.”
“We’ll make it possible,” Anastasia roared. “Even if we have to scour each and every one of those dark holes. I know you’re scared. I know you’re tired. But these bastards came in here and slaughtered our family, our friends. How can you just give up after that? How can we just let them all die in vain?”
“What will you have us do?” a woman shouted. “Gregory wanted to—”
“My father is dead,” Anastasia stated. “Ophelia killed him in cold blood.”
More murmurs and gasps rose amongst the crowd.
Tony stepped forward again. “We have a plan, but we need a handful of Fighters to go with us. We will start our counter attack by scouting, trying to track down these beasts.”
“What of the rest of us?” a woman asked. “You expect us to just send our husbands back into battle? Send them out into what will probably be the death of them?”
People nodded agreement, and Anastasia ground her teeth together.
“How can you not?” A woman Anastasia didn’t know well, stood, speaking to the crowd. “I lost my husband two years ago to a Brute, and now my son—” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat. “We have all lost someone.” The woman’s eyes glistened with unshed tears. Her jaw quivered. “Would you truly allow those lives to be lost in vain? They fought with the very last breath in their bodies; do you truly believe it was so we could lie down and give up?” She spun in a slow circle to look at everyone as she spoke. “Even if it means I have to pick up a damn sword and fight alongside her, I will do something. It’s about time someone does.” She continued to look around. “I mean no disrespect—I loved Gregory as a brother—but he took no preventative action toward those monsters. He wanted to protect his daughter.” She glanced at Anastasia. “Which I can’t blame him for. But what are we supposed to do now? We all know of the prophecy, of the darkness that comes for us. Well, I say it’s already here.”
“If I have to go alone,” Anastasia began, raising her voice as all heads turned back toward her, “I will. Because the very thought of these bastards breathing is nearly too much to bear. I can’t force you to go, but I’m begging you to come.” She paused, waiting, hoping.
“I will go.” Andrew stood, looking Anastasia in the eyes. He gripped his wife’s hand, and she looked up with tears in her eyes as she stood beside her husband.
“I will go,” she said, her voice cracking on emotion.
“I will as well,” another man said.
“Me too.”
Within moments, twelve men and women stood beside Anastasia. They were ready to fight, to take back their homes and lives.
They had a plan now, and this was their first step to victory.
35
Anastasia
The next morning, Anastasia, Tony, Shane, and twelve other Fighters set out to search for any sign of the Brute army. Horses saddled and bags packed, she hoped that they would find where Vincent and the Brutes were hiding.
Brady had stayed behind, with quite a bit of protest, to help get things back in order. Brady’s mother Selena stepped into Gregory’s place as town leader, and would not only keep the peace in Anastasia’s absence, but would oversee the continued efforts to rebuild the village after such a brutal attack.
Anastasia’s biggest fear was not that she would possibly lead these men and women to their deaths, but that when they returned, the town would no longer stand. She swallowed hard. This is what needs to be done.
If they didn’t stop the
Brutes at the source, there would be no home to come back to anyway.
“Where should we look first?” she asked Tony, who rode beside her.
He pointed straight ahead to the mountain range. “The last time we managed to trail Brutes, they led us to some caves leading into the mountains.” He sighed. “The caverns are treacherous, though, and we lost four good men inside.”
“Maybe we’ll get lucky this time.”
He smiled, but the motion didn’t reach his eyes. “I certainly hope so. How are you holding up?”
“I’m all right; I just keep trying to stay focused on the task at hand. We need to do this. Vincent has to be hiding up there somewhere… I know it.”
“I will say, that if anyone was ever prophesized to kick some serious ass, it’s you, Anastasia.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Tony.”
When they finally stopped for the night, dusk cloaked the valley in a soft amber glow. Tony dismounted and looked out at the weary Fighters. “Feed and water your horses, then make camp. We’ll continue at first light.”
They did as he asked, gathering water from the nearby stream. Anastasia watered her horse and unpacked some grain from her saddlebag before filling her own canteen.
She stared up at the slowly darkening sky and sent up a silent prayer that everything would go as planned, that she would somehow have the strength to defeat the darkness and bring light back to Terrenia.
“You okay?” Kalisa, one of the female Fighters Anastasia met briefly during her training, moved to stand beside her. Her blonde hair had been tied up into a tight bun, and brown eyes looked warmly at Anastasia. They had spoken a few times over the years, but to Anastasia, it had seemed that Kalisa had always had an eye for Shane. Which meant that when they started dating, Kalisa kept her distance, and it had stayed that way even after they split.
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