Page 61 of Hopeless Sacrifice
Chapter Eighteen
The Sacrifice
The crimson magic bursts through Daxdyn with so much force he falls from the dragon horse. His eyes hold mine as he lands along the shore, the water lapping against his dirty boots. Terror pushes through me as I watch the magic burst through him. The magic begins to consume him slowly.
A heavy, sobbing breath shakes though my lungs and I turn my gaze to the dangerous man in front of me. Tristan’s gaze settles on me with a pleased look on his disgusting little face.
Power radiates all through me. It’s a foreign feeling and I latch on to it. It’s strong. Too strong. It’s consuming and raw and deadly. It doesn’t belong to me, but I hold onto it. I keep the feeling of it within me, memorizing the toxic energy until it’s mine to keep.
Even if it is the power of the Eminence and I am just an ordinary fae with an unordinary gift of mimicking magic.
My hands shake as the power caresses my body, threatening to devour me from the inside out. I take a stalking step closer to Tristan and his eyes narrow suspiciously on me.
He has the nerve to reach out and grip my jaw in his thin hands. He tilts my head back and forth in his palm.
“I never want to forget the woman who brought me all my glory.” The burnt edge of his lips tips up in a smile.
Energy pools through me in drowning waves.
His lips part and just before he can say another fucking thing, I shove my palm against his chest so hard he stumbles back from me.
The crimson color ignites within his core. A mimicking form of his own magic eats him alive. He stares down at it in astonishment. It highlights the sharp angles of his features. I step closer and closer to him, my eyes locked on that magic that’s burning up inside him.
He crumbles to the ground, his knees hitting with a solid thud.
Finally, he looks up at me. The blood red color creeps up his face.
I lower myself until I can look him dead in the eye.
“Never forget the woman who brought you all your glory,” I whisper.
The magic eats through him at a quicker pace than it did my aunt. It’s as if his energy was already dark and the magic absorbed right into that darkness at an alarming rate.
When his body hits the ground, it’s nothing more than a charred corpse.
But I don’t wait to see his death.
I rush to Daxdyn.
Ryder holds my blade in his hand. It’s pointed to the ground. The war is all but forgotten. His lips are parted and he does nothing but stare in astonishment at his friend lying lifelessly on the ground.
My body lowers over Daxdyn’s, and I find that oddly, he isn’t decaying. My hand skims over the smooth leather covering his chest. He’s fine. He’s still as perfect as ever.
Except he’s not.
He’s notalive. Not even dragon’s leather could protect him from the power of the Eminence.
Every simple act of love he’s ever shown me swarms through my mind and heart. Tears of anger and tears of pain slip down my cheeks as I stare silently at his peaceful face. The smooth curve of his lips isn’t tilted into a smile for once.
I couldn’t save him. The least aggressive man I’ve ever met, and the sweetest man I’ve ever loved, has left me.
Feelings flood my chest, tightening my throat until I can’t manage a simple breath.
There’s still warmth in his palm and I cling to it like it’s the last thing I’ll ever have to keep of him. My thumbs worry back and forth against his knuckles as if I can comfort him even after he’s already gone.
Some people believe there’s a comfort in death. A comfort in knowing there’s no more suffering.
Only beauty.
