She slapped Keleah again.
“Wake up!”
The queen’s voice shook with anger at Keleah, and, unbeknownst to the crowd, at herself as well.
“You will experience this! All of it! Suffer!”
Keleah’s head sank slightly, but her eyes were open. Her breathing was rapid and shallow. Blood spilled out from her mouth, but there was no way of telling if it was from internal injury, her cut tongue, or both.
Jularra stepped back and took in the entire scene. She looked Keleah up and down, horrified with what she saw, though publicly she smiled with satisfaction. She turned to the side, presenting the final impalement to her people. They united in a shout of approval. Jularra then glanced over her shoulder, and waved for the executioner and nearby guards to join the crowd. They filed down the stairs and into the sea of onlookers.
Jularra stepped back once more, fighting the urge to flee the scene. She caught her breath and froze in place.
“No!” Jularra screamed.
The word roared through the air with the weight of defiance. She closed her eyes and held up her hands, summoning two massive energy spheres—one in each hand.
Jularra released her invisible spheres and continued to peer down at Keleah. A new fury began to flow within her.
I will not end up like Leona.
I will not be consumed.
Not by love or hate.
I will not lose all control.
With a sudden flash, the entire area was basked in a radiant blanket of brilliant light. The flash stunned the crowd into silence.
Just as the crowd quieted, the light began to fade. Down, darker, and fainter, the light gave way to shade. Further and further, color shifted to blackness, until the hue of the world was a fraction of its usual self.
Jularra summoned her magic. She fueled it with clarity and flavored it with restraint. Keleah’s justice deserved to be enacted without remorse, untainted by regret. In the artificial dusk of Jularra’s will, streams of spinning amber flickered to life. That which she had first experienced at Leona’s was now a new, harnessed extreme, unique to Jularra. This magic was unfiltered, and unabashed. It was raw power, and whole.
As the rings around her swelled and sped up, the light they emitted brightened. Within seconds, the blazing light surrounding Jularra lit up the execution site as if it were favored by the Gift Gods themselves. A sphere of light surrounded Keleah’s jumbled body on the impalement stake. Slowly at first, and then quickly, the damage inflicted on her body began to reverse.
Keleah toppled over to the floor.
The stake slipped out of her body.
The pitch and mud were ejected from her orifice.
The tears and slices in her flesh healed themselves, and Keleah stretched weakly on the boards of the execution platform, whimpering.
The crowd began to boo. The queen’s mercy was an insult. Through shouts of angry disapproval, they rejected her actions as cowardice. The jeering swelled and Jularra grew angry, not from their reaction but from their misunderstanding.
Jularra muttered softly, “Be silent.”
Though the mob of Acorilinians didn't hear her words, they felt her will. The crowd fell quiet. Jularra walked to the edge of the platform and addressed them.
“I had a choice on how to handle this traitor. A choice!”
Jularra turned back to Keleah.
“And I have decided that her fate will be different. She can be used to greater benefit in life.”
Jularra looked down on the petrified but intact Keleah. The queen’s mind was clear. Her conscience was at peace. She motioned for the guards to approach.
“Take the girl away and put her under guard. I have questions for her.”
Leona and Vylas approached through the crowd, slowly making their way up to the platform to join Jularra. As they did, the area began to grow darker, the remaining natural light snuffed away. The light from Jularra’s summoned energy started to dissipate as well.
The crowd gasped in fearful wonder when the burning image of a figure scorched out from the darkness to stand in front of Jularra.
The Gift God watched as the guards picked Keleah up and carried her away. Jularra stood silently, unsure of what to expect.
“You have shown a proclivity for dark acts, Jularra,” the Gift God began.
The death of Vilfarin replayed in Jularra’s mind.
“And these events today also bloomed from dark roots. Indeed, all roots begin in the dark, underground. But your mercy here shows that you know when a root should be allowed to sprout out into the sun. The use of your gifts to allow your own roots to break free of your past’s soil was a demonstration to us that you have completed your understanding of magic. We bestow upon you, this Credellion that signifies your absolute proficiency.”
“As you live out the rest of your days, remember: gifts are not good, nor evil. Light and dark live only in the heart.”
The attentive crowd below remained silent as the image of the Gift God faded. As it departed, the level of light returned to normal.
Vylas jogged over and wrapped Jularra up in his arms, but Jularra gently pushed him away. Vylas nodded in solemn respect for her actions.
“That has to be it…” Leona said softly. Vylas and Jularra looked over.
“Must be what?”
Leona's eyes shone with epiphany.
Eighteen
“The reason for the time frames of the pact,” Leona said. “The Voidwarden wants the queens to mature enough that it can use their energy, but not enough to develop their skills to the level you have, and challenge it!”
Before Jularra could respond to Leona’s suggestion, a woman’s voice thundered up from the rear of the crowd.
“Queen Jularra!”
Jularra stepped towards the edge of the platform and squinted at the fast-approaching rider.
“One of mine,” Wona affirmed.
“Let that Spire through!” Jularra shouted. She dropped down from the platform. The crowd parted as instructed and the rider raced towards the queen, shoving off from her saddle before the horse had even come to a stop.
“Your Majesty,” the exhausted Spire began. Her voice was dry and weak. “We’re receiving reports that the Torgurians have regrouped and are marching back from
