Page 112 of Her Dreadful Will
Above the howling wind he shouted, and his voice carried the weight of cosmic omnipotence. “Enough!”
They sank back down together, and the heaving soil reformed under their feet, a small patch of undisturbed grass.
Beyond that scrap of safety, the earth had heaved and rolled, leaving great yawning ravines in every direction. There were no more trees for a quarter mile around them, but splinters of wood stuck up from the churned earth, and the powdered remnants of dead leaves fluttered through the air like black snow. Gone was the smell of freshness, of life—in its place was the acrid stench of ruination and moldering decay.
The beautiful forest where they had danced, and fought, and kissed—it was entirely destroyed.
Achan’s hands closed on her upper arms. He was flushed and breathing hard, his eyes brighter than the stars above. “Damn, that felt good. And terrible, at the same time.”
His grip tightened, and his stare was a challenge. “You see what I can do. This is god-tier magic, Sol. I deserve a god’s place among humans and witches. I won’t settle for Highwitch, or Witchlord. I’ve already made up my mind. Someday, I’m going to be the first Witchking.”
That was it. His naked truth, the innermost core of his being. The thing he was working toward, the thing he was afraid to say aloud to anyone. Anyone but her.
And suddenly she wanted nothing more than to give him this gift—his rightful place in the world. She pictured herself at his side; and it wasn’t a selfish fantasy, because if they were side by side, reigning with wisdom and respect, how could the world help but bebetter? He could make the hard choices, deliver painful justice when necessary. She could ensure that he acted with mercy. And when she went too far in her desire to correct and regulate everyone, he could pull her back, and remind her that chaos, too, served a purpose.
What the human race needs is a pair like us. His strong hand and incisive vision. My kindness and generosity.
Our power, blended.
“Go ahead—you can say it,” he whispered harshly. “Tell me I’m ridiculous, and crazy, and born out of my time. Tell me I’m a monster.”
Soleil slid her hands from his waist up his back. “Monsteris just another word for a power humans don’t understand, and wish they could have. You deserve to have what you want. And I’ll help you get it—if you can fix this.” She nodded to the desiccated forest.
Achan dragged his teeth nervously over his lower lip. “Sucking all this chaos back in might kill me. Is that what you want? To rid the world of me?”
He said it casually, but Soleil caught the edge of sadness in his voice.
“If I wanted to kill you, I’d do it now. I’d suck out your soul with this ring.” She tapped the kinglet skull against his back. “No, this is me testing you, to see if you’re willing to go just as far for healing and beauty as you are for chaos. If you can’t fix it all, that’s fine—don’t kill yourself. Seriously.” She glared at him. “If something happened to you—I—”
The thought of himnot existingmade her soul cave in, creating a sickening void—a black hole sucking away all beauty and light. She couldn’t find words, but she frowned at him so fiercely that tears started in her eyes.
“I understand,” he said, squeezing her arms gently. “Me too.”
Releasing her, he rolled his shirt sleeves up halfway, knelt, and pressed his palms to the ground. “Come on,” he said softly, with a lover’s cadence in his tone. “Come back to me.”
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then the earth began to shift and surge, heaped-up soil loosening and pouring back into the cracks. Severed roots squiggled along the ground and knit themselves back together.
“Come on!” shouted Achan, and the ground bucked in response; Soleil felt it tremble at his voice. Broken trunks lurched upright, and snapped limbs glided up them to take their rightful places. Soleil had to shield her eyes as splinters whizzed past her through the dark, collecting into the shapes of branches and twigs. Leaves reformed, larger and more numerous than she remembered, shimmering under the light of the moon.
She stared, open-mouthed, as the forest reassembled itself; and then she glanced at Achan. His hands were claws, partly sunk in the soil. Veins and tendons stood out along his exposed forearms, and the cords of his neck were taut. His sharp jaw was clenched, teeth bared and nostrils flaring.
“Achan...” She touched his shoulder. “Stop. It’s enough.”
He jerked his shoulder, shaking her off without breaking his contact with the ground.
Bushes and saplings regathered themselves, assembling into piles of dark green undergrowth, bursting with pale blooms that Soleil was sure belonged to another season entirely. Stone-dust consolidated into rocks and sank back into the soil, and the grass swept over it all, an unbroken carpet smoother, greener, and thicker than before, silvered by stars and moonlight.
The forest had returned.
“You show-off,” Soleil gasped, turning slowly to take it all in. “You made it even more beautiful.”
With a faint triumphant laugh, Achan collapsed, his face half-buried in the lush grass.
37
“Achan!” Her heart constricting, Soleil flipped him over. He lay on his back, as beautiful and unconscious as the night she’d first collided with him.
