Without giving it a second thought, I grabbed the sword from my father’s hand. I aimed it at him, steeling my grip and my nerves.
His face folded in a dark grin. “You think you have what it takes to kill me, Ilyandra?”
“Don't call me that.” I steadied the blade, holding it in front of his chest.
“It matters not what name I call you. It matters only what you are or are not willing to do. Will you end my life? Will you take my heart in your hands and feed it to the hellhounds? We are kin. I do not believe that you will.”
My hand clenched tighter around the handle and I pressed it closer to his throat. It took all of my strength to keep it from shaking.
“I don’t want to kill you.”
“No, of course you do not.”
“But I will if you try to hurt my—”
His laughter interrupted me. A terrifying sound, gurgled and half choked-off, yet dark and ominous at the same time. “Your what? Your betrothed? Your true love? Which of these inferior beings is it you intend to kill me to save? One of them? Both of them? Perhaps neither is worth ending the life of a father over.”
He waved a hand and his sword flew from my grasp. It landed on the far side of the room with an echoing clang.
I bit down on my lip, so hard I tasted blood. It made me slightly nauseous, but no more so than the situation in front of me. I raised my hands and held them in front of me. Immediately he began to choke as though his airways were being cut off. His hands gripped his throat, clawing at my invisible hold.
His guards stepped forward, but he waved them back.
“Just give me your word that if I let you go, you won’t hurt them. Either of them,” I added. The edges of my vision were tinted red, but I continued my hold.
He gave a half-smile that faded almost as quickly as it came. He was struggling not to lose his temper. “Then you shall have it. I give of you my word they shall not come to harm by my hand.”
I was used to faerie tricks and their play on words. “Not good enough. I want you to promise you will not order anyone else to hurt them either. And you will offer your protection.” I threw that in to guarantee he kept his word.
Oberon nodded. “You have my word.”
I released him and he pulled in a breath of air.
“You are stronger than one might imagine from your appearance. The prahna has grown quite powerful indeed.” He sounded pleased.
I turned away from him. I couldn’t face him right now. Not with every sight, smell and taste threatening to make me throw up all over the ground. Hardly an act befitting the dangerous magical being I was supposed to be.
I should have known his word meant nothing.
The Shadow King turned with a cold gust of wind and stormed through the doors, bolting them shut behind him.
Silvery vines snaked across the ground, heading for Zanthiel. He lashed at them with his sword, slicing through the living things which screamed in pain with each slice. But there were too many. They coiled around him, piercing him with their thorny spikes.
Zanthiel let out a low groan as another thorn drove into his side. “They’re coated in iron.”
Perfect. The one thing faeries can’t endure.
Blackened creatures crept toward us; their skin charred and cracked oozed red hot lava from every fissure.
“I will admit, Oberon was right in one thing. You do have a certain way of attracting death.” Zanthiel grunted as he struggled to break free.
I repositioned myself closer to Zanthiel, where the iron vines held him in place, eating deeper into the flesh of his arms. I tugged at them futilely as the shadow creatures inched closer, dragging their malformed bodies.
So this was the man I’d fought desperately to save. The man who’d given me life and captured my mother’s heart. I tugged again with as much force as I could, but stopped when Zanthiel moaned. This was who I’d risked it all to meet. Disappointed didn’t come close to what I felt. I wanted to throw up and scream and burst into tears. But there wasn’t time for any of that because the demon creatures my father had let loose on us were coming, and they were going to kill Zanthiel unless I found a way to stop them.
I scanned the room. There was nothing I could use as a weapon. Nothing to even transmute into a weapon. All I had was me. And whatever magic lingered inside of me that hadn’t been warped beyond recognition by the dark energy of this place.
Once again I felt Gran’s energy surround me, protecting me from myself. I closed my eyes, and chanted a spell from her grimoire. Then I traced a symbol over my hand. First my left and then the right. The symbols glowed green like electric neon sign.
One demon reached Zanthiel and he slammed his boot into the creature’s head, sending it reeling back with a screeching howl. But more came, one after the other.
I raised both of my hands at the creature. The air stirred, winds picked up, whipping my hair across my face, blowing the dust into mini tornadoes. Aiming my hands at the creature I spoke in a faerie tongue. “Ily elvi se, onerium. Certa tenebrarum com luce.” With that, a blast of energy shot from my palms and slammed into the creatures. The air filled with the sounds of sizzling and cracking as the creatures slowed, inch by inch immobilized until moments later, they were nothing more than stony statues, encased in ice. Terrifying statues, but immovable all the same. And then another surge came and I flung my hands out in front of me, fueled with rage. The force blew through the creatures like a nuclear blast. They shattered into pieces, reduced to fiery sparks and blackened dust which blew away through the opened windows. The blast slammed into Zanthiel. He dropped to the floor, then rose slowly, his face as shocked as mine.
“Come on,” I said without pause. “Let’s go.”
He stopped to gather two of the fallen swords, then we raced for freedom.
****
We’d traveled for miles before Zanthiel found a trod, a porthole passage off the Faerie Islands and back to the Wyldes of Nevermore. They were few and far between and could only be sensed once we were within its vicinity. My magical gifts so far didn’t include porthole detection, so I was once again grateful to have Zanthiel by my side.
Hours later, he discovered another leading directly to Noctria. It wasn’t until we were steps from it, that he grabbed my arm and pulled me back, forcing me to stop. “Lorelei. You should rest before we venture any further.”
“I’m not tired,” I said pulling back.
He refused to let go.
“Zanthiel. I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Yes,” he said. “I can sense that you do. You need to or the pain and anger will continue to feed on the dark magic inside of you, making it impossible to heal.”
“Whatever. Let it feed. Let it stuff its friggin’ face full of my anger.” I was shouting now. “Who cares? I’m so over it.”
“You know why your father did the things he did, don’t you?”
“Because he’s cruel, vicious, mean, hateful, evil…” I ran out of adjectives as the words gave way to the bitter disappointment.
“He wants your magic to be stronger to better protect yourself from what may come. It’s activated by your emotions.”
“You think he cares about my protection?” I scoffed. “He’s a jerk and I don’t want to talk about him.”
Zanthiel gazed up into the sky and squinted into the sunlight. “He was a good man. Once. Noble and just. His life has made him what he is. It’s been cold and unfeeling. Cruel and hateful. I know the effects of that all too well,” he said quietly. He handed me a flask, which I took and then swallowed a mouthful of water.
“Yeah, I agree he’s a direct byproduct of his life, because cruel and hateful is all he’s got.”
Still annoyed, I brushed aside an overgrown fern in my path. Feeling sympathy for him was one thing I refused to do. I couldn’t. It still hurt too much. I shoved the flask into my pouch and snapped it shut. “You know, though? It’s fine. I found him and it’s good that I did. Now I know that I really wasn’t missing anything all those years. My mom and I were so much better off.” I clenched my fingers in my hair. “Look. I said I didn’t want to talk about this. So just drop it. Okay?”
Zanthiel stared at me for a moment, not daring to point out he’d dropped the subject a while ago. I could see the concern in his furrowed brows. Not sure why. Anger and rage were exactly what was needed here to defeat Venus’ level of evil. This was no longer a rescue mission. It had become a war, and she was the target. It wouldn’t be over until she’d been destroyed.
“That man was not my father. And if he thinks he can scare me away with a few demons, clearly he knows nothing about me at all.”
“You are letting your hurt feelings cloud your better judgment.” He folded his arms across his chest. “I know what you are planning. I can read you, remember? This was supposed to be about repairing your healing magic. Not killing Venus.”
“Well, clearly Oberon has no intentions of helping with that or anything else.” I railed. “I get that you loved Venus once. But she’s poison, Zanthiel. And like my father, everything she touches turns to ruin. She has to be stopped.”
His metallic glare reflected the sunlight. “You think you are the one who needs to stop her. Why? She has amassed a long line of enemies willing to bring her down. Myself included.”
“If not me, then who else? This isn’t your battle. It’s between her and me.” Exasperated, I whirled to face him. “What do you think will happen after I release him from her tentacles? You think she’s going to let this go without a fight? Just accept her defeat? Not a chance. And I have no intention of letting her ruin another second of my life.”
I turned to face the invisible porthole between the Wyldewoods of the Nevermore and Mythlandria. “I have to end her. For all of our sakes.”
“What about your father’s crown?”
“We’ll figure that out later. For now, all that matters is that they believe he has given it, along with his blessings.” I sighed.
Zanthiel started to say something, but then stopped.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “You’re not going to tell me what a great guy he is again, are you? Because I may have to throw up on your boots.”
“I was not. Besides, you already know, because...”
“I already know because...” I urged him to finish.
“Because you're a lot alike. Don't throw anything at me,” he added, raising his hands.
Lucky for him, I didn't have anything to throw. “Sort of a big leap, considering the only thing we share are a few genes. Hardly think that makes us clones.”
“You don't see it, because you are too close, and you're upset. But I do. It is clear to me.”
“Have you any idea how close you are to the end of your life right now? Let's just move on and stop talking about the man who, from here on out, shall not be named. Agreed?”
“Interesting you should be so angry over someone you will soon come to forgive.”
“Forgive?” I scoffed. “Why would I? Because he's got brown eyes and brown hair and calls me by the wrong name?”
“Because aside from all of those things, he is your father.”