Page 232 of Children of Fallen Gods

She thought that she knew me so well. She had claimed so many of her sparring victories because she thought she knew me better than I knew myself. Often, she was right. But she had never expected this.

I had underestimated her. But she had underestimated me, too.

I let myself slow, deliberately, backing against the stone wall.

“I don’t want to do this,” I said, laying out the trap of my hesitation. And just as I knew she would, she took it.

It happened in a split second. She lunged, not only with her knives, but with her magic, shadow swelling around her like wings. And in the same moment, I let mine rise to meet it. My flames roared into a river that coiled around me and lunged for her, clashing with her darkness, blinding us both.

I had never been hit with Nura’s magic so directly. Even though I braced myself, it still took my breath away. To describe the sensation that flooded over me as “fear” would be like describing a monsoon as a drizzle.

One blink, and I was looking at Kira’s face as she fell against the floor of her shed, fire tearing up her clothing, her hair.

I was hearing Reshaye’s whisper,{Now you have no one but me.}

I didn’t know whether the floor beneath my feet was the stone of the Scar or the bloodstained tile of my family’s estate. I didn’t know whether the flames at my hands were reaching towards Nura, or towards my siblings, or towards the people who had lived in Sarlazai. My mental walls, meticulously crafted, tore apart like paper.

Still, I pushed forward, resisting the urge to fall to my knees. Down here, my magic was rawer, brighter, hotter. Our power collided in a burst so wild that it consumed us both, and seconds later, we were both flung against opposite walls of the ravine.

My breath came in ragged gasps. Sweat plastered my hair to my forehead. Through the warping mist of the Scar, Nura and I looked at each other, wide-eyed — as if we had both surprised ourselves with the extent of our power.

I flexed my hands, coaxing magic back to my fingertips.

And then, we began again.

Chapter Seventy-Eight

Max

Iwas standing in my bedroom at my family’s estate.Look, Max. Just came out of its silk today.Kira’s hands held out a glass box. A little red butterfly was within it. Its wings were on fire. I looked up and Kira’s face was rotting.

No.

I was in the Scar, fighting for my life, for Tisaanah’s life, for a title I didn’t even want. The world shook as my back slammed against the wall. No time to catch my breath. No time to hesitate. I fell back, dodging Nura’s next strike, and surging towards her.

No.

I was in Sarlazai. Nura was looking up at me. I trusted her. I loved her.If they want to shit in their own beds, they can lie in it.

{You do always try so hard.}

No.

I was leaning over Nura, our magics roaring around us both, light and darkness and fire and fear threatening to smother each other out. She was blocking me with a blade — but my staff was more powerful. Her eyes were wide, and through her anger, her lethal determination, I caught a glimpse of fear. Her stance buckled.

For a moment, I could see an opening. One strike to her throat. I was fast enough. I could make it.

But it was a lethal shot.

I hesitated. Went for her shoulder instead of her neck. Too slow. She countered.

No.

I was in my old apartment in the wake of Sarlazai, the wake of my family’s deaths. I was drowning, drowning in grief and anger and rage. Nura was there. She peeled her clothes off. Her body was decimated, covered in burn scars, disfigured. She crawled over me and whispered in my ear,This is what you do.

No.

Yes. And you think you can rule? You have destroyed everything you’ve ever touched.

---