Curse of Stolen Flame (Firebird, #1)

CHAPTER 53

It was worse than she remembered it being.

So, so much worse.

Every sense was overwhelmed. Her bones seemed to scream, her skin stretched taut and burning.

But as the man who’d bombed children, who’d murdered dozens of innocents, disintegrated into ash in her fist, she felt just a small pulse of satisfaction at the sheer power—hers, but not—thrumming through her veins.

Vylie screamed, teleporting away from Tess to stand before the charred, crumbling husk of her fellow assassin. The look she gave Kindra was one of pure hatred.

“You fucking bitch,” she spat.

Kindra replied, in a voice that was not quite her own, “You’re next.” And then she was upon her.

The other shadow assassins flocked to the woman who was clearly their leader. They would have stood a chance had Kindra not had the literal power of a god coursing through her. One by one, they fell, eaten alive by gold and blue fire blasts that scorched the ground and the ceiling, that ate up debris and bodies alike. Somewhere inside her, something seemed to laugh, delighted by the carnage.

Scaldor was enjoying himself, it seemed.

Kindra couldn’t tell if she was. She felt only the fire, only the rage, only the need to burn burn burn through anybody who opposed her. Her previous reluctance was forgotten, her prior fears about giving into this power devoured .

Nearly half a dozen she killed, cut down like blades of grass. Some of the deadliest Wielders were nothing compared to her. A crazed laugh escaped her—or was it Scaldor’s? She began to feel as if she was outside of her own body, dangerously out of control. Too much, some part of her whispered. This is too much.

The guards rallied behind her, and they launched themselves at the remaining Shadowmasters. She spotted Terryn, Tess, and Ryle among them, all of them battered but alive.

Kindra was so caught up in the sheer vastness of the inferno inside her that she didn’t see Vylie vanish. She didn’t see her appear behind Jasper until it was too late, until she heard his pained cry.

She whirled. Jasper slumped to his knees, Vylie’s blade sticking out of his side. The woman gave Kindra such a hateful, furious look as she withdrew her bloodied blade that she knew, instantly, this was Vylie’s revenge for murdering that man. An eye for an eye. A lover for a lover.

Her connection to Scaldor faltered and then snapped under the sweeping wave of panic, his power vanishing with Kindra’s gut-wrenching scream. Kindra fell to the ground, her body giving out on her. Her own magic guttered, weakly beating beneath her hot, agonized skin. She reached for Scaldor again, she begged , but the god did not reply.

No. No, no, no. Stupid, horrified anger raced through her and she staggered to her feet. So foolish to rely on a god, to not expect the fickleness that all deities enjoyed. She stumbled for Jasper, who was trying and failing to stop the blood pouring out his side. His father, who’d watched Kindra with something akin to terrified satisfaction on his face now reached for his son, but Vylie still stood there. She raised her blade for the death blow.

“Please,” Kindra sobbed, reaching for her fire. It slipped through her fingers. Oh gods, it was all over. “Please don’t.” But Vylie wasn’t even looking at her, staring down at Jasper with a vicious, murderous snarl. Kindra’s mother cowered against the wall, too terrified to even scream.

And Jasper just looked at her, clutching his wound with one hand and straining for her with the other. His mouth moved—her name falling from his lips, over and over again, like he wanted her to be the last thought he had before the end .

Something metal glinted at her feet. A guard’s forgotten sword. Kindra grabbed it. Her head swam with the motion.

Terryn was by her side in a heartbeat.

“I got you,” he panted. “I’ll distract her.”

She managed a nod. Terryn wrapped his torso and arms in thorned vines and leaped at Vylie. The surprise attack worked, and she stepped back before transporting to Terryn’s other side. The Earthwarden blocked her blow and sent her staggering with a swing of his long, thorned arm. The assassin hissed as the thorns sliced open her arm.

Kindra saw her opening and lunged. She swung the blade down, just as Jasper had taught her. The sword cut deep into Vylie’s thigh, and she howled.

She stumbled back, falling to the ground as Vylie jerked her bleeding thigh away from her, the sword wrenching free and clattering to the ground. She sent Terryn reeling with a blast of shadow, and then she limped over to Kindra.

Agony and vitriol gleamed in her all-black eyes as she closed her hand around Kindra’s throat and lifted her from the ground. Kindra scratched and kicked at her, but she knew this time no god was coming to help her. No, she’d already played that card. Distantly, she heard Helena and Emeline screaming. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tess sprinting towards her from across the room, but one of the few remaining assassins intercepted her.

Vylie put her lips against her ear.

“You stupid, little bitch,” she hissed as Kindra struggled. “There are greater things at work here than your selfish pride.” She reared back, looking at Kindra with almost pity. “Some things are not up to me, firebird. Remember that. If they were, I would do more than slice your precious prince open for what you’ve taken from me tonight—I would have cleaved him in two. Consider this an act of mercy.”

And then her blade sliced through Kindra’s torso like it was paper, sliding through a gap in the thin metal Kindra had foolishly thought of as armor earlier in the evening.

Vylie sneered as she let go of Kindra. She fell limply to the ground, choking on her own blood and grasping at her ripped stomach. “Don’t worry, I didn’t hit anything vital. You should live—probably.” She nodded towards Terryn, who was once again on his feet and barreling towards her, fury written plainly across his face. “He won’t, though.”

Kindra could only watch as Vylie, bleeding leg and all, turned to face the Earthwarden. Even in the assassin’s wounded state, Terryn was outmatched by her. He brought his vines up in a shield that she cut through in a heartbeat, she slashed down every stalk he sent towards her. She saw the dread on his face, the pained resignation, a second before it happened.

Vylie’s blade cut clean through his neck. Kindra’s mouth opened in a silent scream as his head tumbled to the floor.

Dead.

Vylie gave Kindra one last scornful look before letting out a shrill whistle. The remaining assassins—a measly four—stepped back from their battles and vanished. A beat later, and Vylie was gone too.

Mere seconds after they disappeared, the wall of shadow blocking the doors disappeared too, finally allowing a flood of guards and Healers inside. The Healers raced first for the royal family. Kindra looked at Jasper, who lay unconscious mere feet away in a pool of his blood.

Warm hands brushed against her skin, but Kindra didn’t look away from her husband until a Healer was by his side, not even when her mother grabbed at her face, her quaking sobs shaking her body. Not until they confirmed that he was still breathing.

Only then did she allow agony and exhaustion to overcome her and slipped away into nothing.