Slow steps sounded, and the owner of the voice came into view. Adair stood still, raising his eyebrow in cool composure. Inside, he blanched, ripping against his confines, sickened yet unable to watch, unable to do anything.
It resembled a human, but its grey skin was now decaying. Its blackened eyes took him in, the bone structure poking violently out from its skin, no muscle mass holding anything strongly. Its hair hung limply, leeched of any color, and the color was the same as bone.
Adair didn’t answer, and the creature shuffled toward him, sniffing, tilting its head. Its voice turned grating, “Once, I dreamed of being like you. Like him...” It motioned to behind at the city. “Born into a world with no ability, no power, no status, watching the world thrive with magic. And all my life, I could do nothing.” It smiled, which was more like a grimace, showing a mouth empty of teeth. “Until now.”
It bowed its back, this creature that once had been a desolate, screaming shrilly as spittle flew from its mouth, and it charged toward him. The magic rippled out, the creature thinking it was powerful, that it was enough to destroy him.
Adair stood, chest heaving. A fire burned through his veins, consuming him. His anger, his lust, exploded through him, fusing with his magic, as Adair smiled darkly.
The creature was maybe a few paces from him, its eyes bulging, completely overtaken by the madness of the magic raking through it, feeding on it.
It leapt through the air, and he ducked. Slicing up, the blade cut through flesh, and the body hit the ground with a heavy thud. Panting, Adair bowed, not caring that he had been showered with blood, placing his hand on the ground, and the earth quaked. The dark magic flowed down his arms, pooling into his palms. Dropping to connect his hands to the earth, the ground shuddered as it caved in, splintering toward the city.
Adair was running, following his magic. The buildings around him shuddered, and his magic flared as every single standing architecture cracked, blackness running through them like a spider web.
He stopped; his shield surrounded him as the city crumbled down around him. Screams were crushed, roars silenced, and the world was one of dust and bone.
The dust settled in the rubble, and Adair flicked his shield down and then began running again. The streets were winding, the once bustling roads deserted, the gore of war staining Sarthaven. Pumping his arms harder, Adair flew deeper into the city, knowing his father would be waiting for him. Or at least he certainly hoped.
Adair raced, gritting his teeth, pushing harder, leaping over rubble. Both his ability and the dark magic worked together in unison. The magic cleared his path, burning and destroying, all the while he could feel his ability webbing out in the city, searching for his father. He would not hesitate ever again to take over Cesan’s body.
His surroundings were a blur, and he was vaguely aware as he turned, a clear view of the Draken Mountains stretched up to the sky, and in the middle of the courtyard was Cesan. Adair saw Cesan’s eyes flick up toward him before all the cement rubble rose and shot at his father under Adair’s command.
Snarling, Cesan flicked his hand, the rubble turning to dust before his eyes, skittering around him. “You’re not the only one who has learned new tricks, son.”
The ground quaked, and Cesan grinned, his cloak floating around him. Resting above his brow was an inky black crown, the base made up of bones, the spires jagged. Huge vines shot through the ground, racing up to ensnare Adair, but he cackled, fire exploding from him with such force, Cesan staggered back. A wall of green flames circled Cesan, and for a second, he was entranced by the inferno. A second was all Adair ever needed.
Roaring, the flames split as Adair charged through them, and Cesan unsheathed his blade just in time, sparks flying from the steel as they met. Twisting, Adair slashed at his knees, his chest, his arms, forcing Cesan back toward the hungry flames. Rolling away from the fire’s edge, Cesan attacked with magic, the force slamming into Adair.
Bow to me.
Cesan seethed. “Never,” he spat, and Adair abandoned everything, and the only thing he succumbed to was the darkness within him.
He was relentless, moving inhumanly fast, his blade an extension of his arm, slashing, cutting the back of Cesan’s knees, and Cesan faltered, blood running down his calves.
Panting, Adair slammed the pommel of the hilt into his father’s back, bones cracking from the force. He prowled around him, years of rage thrumming in his veins. All the times he made him feel small, worthless. All those secret meetings filled with blood and bruises. The hidden tears, the betrayal.
Stopping in front of him, Adair plucked the crown off his head, twirling in it between his fingers.
His voice was low when he said, “You know, I never told anyone what you did to me. You taught me to hate myself, that I was never worth anything...” He crouched down in front of him, slamming the sword into the dirt. “...and I believed you.”
Cesan’s gaze raked the sword in Adair’s grasp, recognition flaring in his eyes. “You have your mother’s sword.”
Adair licked his lips. “I enjoyed killing her almost as much as I will relish in killing you.” Standing, Adair tossed the crown aside, and the iron melted before Cesan’s eyes.
Adair dove into his ability, the world leaving him. He was nothing but never-ending bloodlust, and he tore through the false king’s body, ravaging it of any power, leaching that same magic that burned through him.
And he took it all.
Slamming back into his body, he watched the lifeless Cesan crumple in front of him. The inferno stilled, disappearing into pulsing embers. For a moment, all he could do was stand there. The power that raked through him was intoxicating and never
