by G. Bailey
“No,” I sigh, knowing she would give another monologue before we start fighting. She really does love the sound of her own voice too much. “But I have a feeling you’re about to tell me, Eva.”
She roots to the spot, and a scathing snarl stretches over her thinly pressed lips. “Father never loved me because I was never you!”
Her outburst takes me by surprise. I thought the king loved her and that was why he wanted me to bond with her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have bothered asking me to cut her some slack. He wouldn’t have tried stopping us from fighting all the time.
“From the day I was born,” Eva continues, pacing in front of the throne again, “the king saw me as nothing more than a disappointment. Nothing I ever did impressed him. I was never enough. I didn’t understand why until the Titans showed me a vision of a girl with blue hair, a girl who was born before me out of darkness and light. It was then I realised my father rejected me because I could never be who he truly wanted—his firstborn child.” Her eyes narrow into icy shards. “My mother knew the king would never accept us, and that is why she took her own life! All—because—of you!”
She lunges, her sword pointed at my throat.
I block her, pushing her back when our weapons meet. She just manages to nick my shoulder.
“I can’t be blamed for who the king did and didn’t love, Eva!”
Apprehension fills me when I see that my magic doesn’t heal the wound. Either my body is too exhausted to heal itself, or these swords are specifically designed to kill magics. My money is on the latter.
This is it. It’s either kill or be killed.
And I will not leave my loved ones without putting up one hell of a fight!
Our swords collide, then, again and again, each blow harder and more desperate than the last. I cut through the flesh on her thigh, tearing through her filthy dress, and she catches the side of my stomach, just under my ribs. Sweat trickles down my spine as I pivot on my heel, meeting each and every one of her strikes. My rapid breathing matches her own. She’s growing exhausted, too, unable to hold her sword without trembling.
“The first day…I saw you,” she pants, wiping the blood oozing from her shoulder with the back of her hand, “I couldn’t believe someone as pathetic as you would dare sit on the throne. You know nothing of our world, and yet, Father wanted you to rule it! He might as well have set fire to the forest and watched it burn to ashes.”
“I know more…more than you think…” My own reply comes out just as breathless, just as exhausted.
“Really?” Eva rubs the blood off her hand on her dress. “Like how to unleash the Titans?”
I shake my head, barely able to hold my sword at this point. The pain tearing me asunder is becoming unbearable. If one of us doesn’t kill each other soon, we’re going to die from exhaustion.
“Then enlighten me,” Eva snarls, “what does the almighty Corvina Charles know that I do not.”
We circle each other, waiting for the other to strike first. In the corner of my eye, a trio of small dark figures fly onto the throne behind Eva. A grin threatens my lips. I need to keep her distracted.
“I know you loved our father and it was his death that did this to you,” I say, pretending not to notice the shadows. “I know that you didn’t want Narah to kill him. You just wanted him to accept you for who, and what, you were, and give you the throne.”
“Lies! Father despised me from the day I was born and I wanted him to suffer just like Mama and I did.”
“But you still loved him, didn’t you?”
I work my way closer to her, preparing my sword for the final blow.
“And I know that deep down, Eva, you’re afraid of all this. You didn’t want things to happen this way. You just wanted someone to love you, but you knew as much as I did that you’re unlovable because of the things you’ve done. No one will ever accept or love a monster like you, and that’s what you’re afraid of—being alone.”
“Nooooooo!” Eva pounces on top of me, knocking me onto the floor. “It was you who made me this way! You took everything from me. My mother—father—Ronan—the throne!”
Each exclamation is punctured by the sounds of her fist slamming into my face.
I reach out blindly, my eyes too swollen to see through and grab whatever I can. I hear her choke and I know that I’ve got her throat, so I dig my nails in as deeply as possible in an attempt to thrust her off me. When the sound of glass shattering and Eva’s screams bellow around me, I’m able to see again. The tattoo on my arm glows like a beacon as Eva, running backward, swats my raven friends away from her. Wren, Crowe, and Rook peck at her face and wounds, and I know this is the only opportunity I’ll have if I want this to end.
As my friends fly away, I scramble to my feet, summoning the sword within me. It materialises into my hand, instantly healing all my wounds and giving me strength again as I run over to Eva.
A quick, tactful stab to the heart is all it takes.
Eva clutches at her chest, her mouth gasping around silent words, and falls back. I catch her before she hits the floor and I stay there with her. An unexpected pity takes hold of me as I watch her die. A small part of me wishes that it didn’t have to come to this. I may not have liked Eva from the get-go, but I never wanted her to become…this.
“I just—” The words catch in Eva’s throat as she chokes on blood; the liquid oozing from her mouth is black instead of red. “I just wanted to be remembered.”
I don’t tell her that her kingdom will remember her, for all the wrong reasons, because I know that Eva wasn’t always like this. She wasn’t poisoned or corrupted right from the beginning. It was the lure of the darkness that did this to her. It twisted her pain and rejection into something so sinister that she became unrecognisable, perhaps even to herself.
As the Princess of Helios dies in my arms, I sing to her the first song Pitch ever sang to me—the one about the girl and the Wishing Well—and I tell her to make a wish.
This time, it will come true for her.
Leaving my sister’s dead body on the ash and rubble covered floor, I slide my sword from her heart and stand up tall. The sword whispers into my ear as I drag my bruised and sore feet to the balcony that overlooks the city. The war zone. Screams and cries of pain that I will never forget linger in my ears as the smell of blood and magic attacks my senses. Dragons litter the skies, some of them slamming into the Titans and biting them in any place that they can. But they don’t stand a chance. It’s evident when two dragons are punched out of the sky by a Titan.
My hand shakes around the sword as it starts to glow black, radiating power up my arm.
Together.
The word seems strange as I stare out over the city and close my eyes, letting the sword’s power mix with my own. It makes me stronger and so much more powerful than I ever thought imaginable. My feet leave the balcony as black, white, and grey magic swirl around me in crackling waves, never touching my skin but destroying everything around me.
This is my fate.
The sword increases whatever magic is in your soul—the magic you are made with. My existence was made by the mirror and I am all the power there is in the world.
I am a light fae.
I am a dark fae.
But my heart and soul will always be shadowborn.
“LEAVE!” I scream to my people, to anyone that fights on my side. “Fall back! Fall back now!”
I use my power to echo my voice into all their ears. The Titans notice me at the same time the final word leaves my lips, and they storm my way, desperate to stop me before it’s too late.
Portals open everywhe
re on the battleground, and those on my side step through them. I hear my mother’s voice on the wind, commanding everyone to leave. I take my eyes off the Titans for a moment to see Sage in David’s arms, fighting him to get to me, but he forces her through a portal. My mother rides through the chaos towards me on a black-winged chariot, and right behind her are my mates.
My mates…
The sword’s power is addictive, far more than any magic I have ever experienced, and it lifts me higher into the air. I forget everyone in the world but the sword and the Titans who are my enemies. I can’t fight this kind of magic, not anymore. It’s too much, too connected to me, too powerful and seductive. As its sweet, sinister whispers fill my mind, I realise that this sword, this mark branded into my flesh, was the true enemy all along. It will destroy the world and reshape it how it likes.
I’m just a host.
For a fleeting moment, I see a vision of the future in the swords eyes; the pain and misery it wants the fae and shadowborn to feel for locking it away.
