Page 106 of Dark Elves of Ardani

“Theron!” she shouted, kicking at him. “Let go of me! Stop this!”

He stopped at the cliff’s edge and looked down at her. All humanity was gone from his eyes, and there was only cold darkness left. Flame from his other arm reflected in his dark pupils. “Do you regret what you’ve done?”

She nodded. “Yes. I regret it. I am sorry.”

He looked amused, then shook his head. “It’s too late for that.”

She gritted her teeth with effort as she tried to hold on to him, her fingers white-knuckled. Liquid rage pumped through her. She looked behind Theron and saw Nero on the ground, not moving. She could not tell if he was alive or dead.

Angry tears clouded her eyes. This was not right. It was not right that she had been born weak and Theron had been born strong. It was not right that he’d gotten to grow up in a society that had embraced him while hers had rejected her. It was not right that Nero had been born into a world that hated and distrusted anyone who was different.

“This is not justice,” she said. “This is chaos. This is cruelty.”

“Justice requires punishing evil.”

“Youare evil!” she shouted. “Throw yourself from this cliff if that is your goal!” Her fists were clenched on him like claws, and her limbs felt like they were on fire. She wanted him dead for what he’d done to her and Nero and everyone else. She ached for it, so deep was her hatred.

Her vision was blurred, and Theron’s terrible face swam in front of her, and her heart pounded in her ears. And then, her sense of sight seemed to suddenly expand, showing her another layer of reality. She saw something dark and otherworldly in him. A haze of red and black clouded his face in a miasma of magic and power.

She had heard that some people hallucinated right before they died. Perhaps his grip on her collar was cutting off circulation to her brain.

She scratched and hit at what she could reach of his arm, because she refused not to go down fighting, no matter how hopeless it was. He seemed not to notice her struggles. He reached toward her with his flaming hand, and she flinched from the fire, her nerves buzzing in anticipation of pain.

No pain came.

She looked down at the flames, watching them dissolve her sleeve into flakes of ash. Her skin was uncomfortably hot, but unmarred. She stared at it, confused. Theron looked at it too, equally puzzled. Zara looked up at Theron, and she realized that she was not hallucinating after all, or if she was, it was a very convincing hallucination.

In a rush, dark vapor poured from Theron like water, dripping from his mouth and nose and eyes and the pores in his skin. His grip on her weakened. His shoulders slumped, and he staggered backward, as if he could hardly hold himself up.

And then, suddenly, the vapor was rushing into Zara instead.

It choked her as it clouded around her face and invaded her throat, and it stung her skin like acid. She could feel the presence of something… something alive and angry. And as the dark presence settled over her, she understood what was happening. The demonic spirit was in her. It had jumped to her from Theron, drawn out by her anger.

For a moment, she was terrified. But only for a moment. And then she was furious again.

On some level, she understood that the demon was influencing her, but she no longer cared. This was what she wanted. This was the power she needed. The demon would grant it to her.

She turned to Theron, who was staring at her breathlessly. The fire on his arm had gone out. Zara raised her hands in front of her face, studying the rough, dirty skin on her palms. As she looked at them, they burst into dark, painless flames.

“Zara—” Theron began, as if to warn her off. She started toward him, ignoring his desperate tone.

Realizing she had no intention of letting him go, Theron snarled and drew a knife from somewhere. He slashed at her with it, and pain erupted in her chest. She looked down, and there was a slice through her shirt over her collarbones. Blood welled from a long, shallow cut.

Energy coursed through her, giving her strength she hadn’t known she had. She grabbed Theron’s wrist, holding the knife at bay. As they grappled, Theron’s armor began to grow dangerously hot from her flames.

With a cry of effort and pain, Theron surged forward, pushing her toward the edge of the cliff. Even with her demon-endowed strength, Zara stumbled back under his weight. She felt a wave of panic, realizing the edge was mere feet behind her.

Throwing her weight to the side, she clutched his wrists and whirled him around, using all his momentum and all her strength to hurl him toward the edge. The motion threw her off balance, sending her sliding to the ground as she released him.

She watched him teeter over the edge of the cliff. She watched his face go slack in an expression of dread as he realized there was no ground beneath him. And then he was gone.

There was a pause that seemed to go on forever, and then a metallic crunch as metal collided with stone far away. And then there was silence.

Zara crawled to the edge to look down, down, hundreds of feet below. A dark, motionless shape, glinting in the moonlight, lay sprawled at the base of the cliff. She watched him for a long time, waiting for him to get back up. But he didn’t.

She felt a bloodthirsty surge of triumph. Her gasping breaths began to slow. Her pounding heart gradually quieted. She closed her eyes.

“Zara?” came a weak voice.

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