Dried blood coated her skin as she looked to her chained wrists, expecting to see her parents’ faces staring back up at her about to scold her for her un-princess-like conduct during the feast. Tears brimmed her eyes, and she felt the panic claw up her throat thick and fast as her world and her mind spun. They were gone. Gone. Stripped away from her, laying her soul bare for all. She forced her feet to move as the sharp slashes of betrayal cut deeper and deeper into her heart. She replayed again, again, and again what had happened.
She had tried to escape with Marquis when the killing had begun. One moment he was helping her up, the next the screams shattered through her, and then with a sweep of darkness, the lights had gone out and Bresslin Stratton had exploded into the room, snarling as the army had rushed in behind her.
All she could do was watch, entranced in the darkness as the screams climbed and climbed, breaking around her. Marquis had grabbed her hand, dragging her, yelling at her, and all she heard was the sharp ringing slicing through her hearing, the sensation of her body leaving the ground, and Marquis’s comforting warmth radiating through her. He was the only person Emory had ever encountered that she could touch without the rush of ability of draining a person’s life force, of being not just her, but her power. It was anchoring amongst the chaos. Almost comforting.
Tadeas had roared to Marquis, “This way, hurry!” They had cut across the space and her stomach churned repeatedly as the darkness closed in on her.
She was having a panic attack. Cold sweat clung to her body, and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get away from the sounds of her friends and family being slaughtered around her, of forces that she didn’t understand playing against her. Of her parents’ best friends destroying the dream they had worked so hard to build to achieve peace. They had almost reached the King of the Shattered Isles when a lancing pain flared up her calf, and she was ripped away from Marquis.
His scream, his voice, repeated through her. “Emory, no!” Her head cracked against the ground, and she dug her nails into the cool floor, trying to stop. Her nails gouged, scraping against the floor, but it wasn’t enough and she was quickly ripped away as she screamed. It lasted one second before she was drowning. Her captor’s magic shivering through her, clouding her mind, clogging her senses. It was an ancient and cruel understanding as it cut through her, and as she stopped, she slammed her boots hard against its chest. She lashed out, punching and clawing, screaming in frustration. Decayed fleshed connected with her jaw, slapping her head back as stars erupted in her vision. The cool snap of metal froze her as she felt the collar lock around her neck and wrists. A flame flickered between them as she was wrenched to her feet.
“Well, look what I have here.”
This thing was born from the eternal depths of darkness with saggy, grey flesh and eyes that bore into her soul. It smiled as Emory cringed. The rest played out before her in flickering moments as she fell into shock.
The chains were spelled, neutralizing her ability, and she was dragged through the war of the Academy. Warm blood dripped down her leg as they wove and wove until they raced through the tunnels and hallways, breaking through to the courtyard. It was chaos, the charging assault of the remaining students, being torn through and ravaged. This world was made from ice and blood, and she was ensnared, the thorns ripping and gouging her. The creature cut through the edges of the fight, growling to her, but she didn’t hear a word. It could have been minutes or centuries, but one voice brought her slamming down into reality,
“Well, it would seem we meet under unlikely circumstances.” Bresslin Stratton circled her with a hunger burning in her eyes.
She lunged, the chain snapping back as her body was whiplashed.
“You will want to keep that fight for as long as you can. You will need it.” With that, Bresslin had continued to kill everything she loved, her home, and her future. And all Emory could do was watch. For the first hour, she had fought, pulling and snapping at the chains. The second, she had stood there as ice and ash floated through the air, clenching and unclenching her hands until she ripped into her palms. The third, the doors exploded and her heart nearly crashed out of her chest as she spotted Memphis and Brokk in the throng of the fight. She collapsed to her knees as student after student fell, the storm raging around her, whiting out what she knew had happened. They are not dead, not dead, not dead.
And then the storm had stilled, and the creature tugged at her chain, growling in pleasure. Lumbering forward, her body complied in shock as the metal dug into her flesh. Jutting her chin out, she stood tall as they walked through the army of rotting flesh and gleaming eyes that scoured her, ravished her. They had created a pathway, their rumbling eagerness of snapping maws. Jutting her chin out, she practically growled back. Her heart plummeted as she saw why the contagious tension rippled amongst them.
Brokk locked eyes with her, screaming words that she didn’t register. All she saw
