Page 95 of The Coven of Ruin
Another step from them. A side-step from her.
“They weren’t mages in the tavern,” he continued. “They were gods.”
“Yes,” she huffed out. Trista traded steps with them, her back now to the trees. They were trying to cut her off from her only chance at survival.
Another growl rumbled in the distance, closer now. Shouting filtered through her awareness, and she wasn’t sure if it had been there all along.
“And they came to your defense,” he continued.
No. Grae had defended Ares, mostly, but she wouldn’t correct him. Let him think she had a team of gods on her side.
“You’re not the only one chosen by gods.” He held his hand out in front of him, a black flame flickering above his palm that she could only see because of the thin light the moon offered.
“They’re not here to save you this time. I’m sure you enjoyed their little display, though. You always did want someone to worship you, to save you. It never made sense to me. Your magic isn’t even your own. You were born to die for the greater good—so that a better witch than you could live. And yet you were surprised and angry when I didn’t chase down a god foryou?” His lips twisted into a sneer as he switched the black flame to his other palm. “Why would I? Why would I give my life up to save you?”
Old wounds resurfaced and cracked open that she thought she had buried deep enough down. “I never wanted anyone to die for me,” she managed to say. Trista had only wanted him to do what she would have done for him.
Movement in the clearing caught her attention. More mages. She had to move, she had to….
“There’s nowhere to go, Trista. These woods,” he lifted his chin toward the trees, “they’re warded. They won’t let you in. And those who can enter never come back out. It’s the reason we are out here. We have the forest on all sides, the sea beyond that, and the capital we now control. This clearing is considered coven territory. Now it is protected by Khaos from man, mage, and even Olympus.”
Lana Forest. The cursed woods.
That meant the ancient magic that kept the gods from gating into covens was present here too. Though it didn’t affect whatever dark magic some of the Legion wielded that was given to them by Khaos. They had the advantage in the clearing.
Not that any gods were coming for her anyway.
Trista whipped around to face the trees and lunged her exhausted body forward again. Zyana had given her life for her. Forhertolive.She had to at least try. The foreign magic she had felt earlier registered in her awareness again as it made contact with her. It examined, weighed, decided.
But it didn’t matter—they were faster. A wall of black flame erupted before her, cutting off her path. Her magic surfaced lightless of its own accord as she whirled to face Kace and Vaunt. Vaunt’s fist connected with her stomach, knocking the breath from her. She caught sight of several other mages approaching right before she doubled over. Her body had forgotten how to inhale.
Powerless.
Vaunt snickered beside her. Finally able to drag air into her lungs, she shakily unsheathed the dagger. Curled in on herself, her body hid the movement. It sat heavy in her grasp, a weight she had kept even while she ran. The mage grabbed her hair and yanked her head back harshly. Gritting her teeth, she twisted in his hold and swiped the blade across his abs without hesitation.
Vaunt blinked and stumbled back, then he tentatively touched the wound, holding his fingers up to witness his own blood. Disbelief and anger distorted the mage’s features as he lifted his blade and stepped toward her with every intent to kill.
Kace yelled a moment before black flames cut another path before her, swiftly licking up and then devouring Vaunt. It gorged on the mage and spread before he even had the time to scream. Pivoting, she was met with more black flame until the last thing she saw was Kace looking at his hands as the magical blaze poured from them uncontrollably.
Desperate, she searched for a way out, but there was none. The flames were much too tall and thick to get through. She’d burn up in the bewitched fire before she even made it to the other side.
Trapped.
She could just make out the shape of Kace on the barrier, his body merely a blurred outline. Violet swirled around her, blocking some of the heat, but still, it was relentless. It scorched her lungs and drained whatever energy she had left.
By flame or by her own magic, she was going to burn either way.
Chapter XLII
Whenitcamedownto it, she thought it would be simple—dying. Growing up, she was conditioned with the deep knowledge that her magic, and therefore her life, were only significant for what it could do for someone else. One day, be it in two summers or in twenty, she’d exhaust it just for the chance that someone else could live.
No grand ceremony would be held for her passing, no mourners, no speeches about who she was and what she left behind. She was just consumable magic in the body of a witch.
Still, none of that made accepting death any easier. Ares had asked her the morning after his fever what she wanted. If she had answered at the time, it would have been something like ‘for her friends to be happy and healthy’ or ‘to be able to heal again.’ But the true answer, the answer that she had protected in the depths of her being, was that she wanted tolive.And not with sacrifices made by her friends, bargains with gods, or haunting memories.
Truly live.
She would visit Demurielle and Zyana at their covens. They’d drink and dance in crowded taverns, go to festivals, lounge in bed, laugh together and enjoy every day without concern of dark mages and curses.
