Page 169 of Balance
The sword—Soulbringer—was as long as my arm but weighed less than a feather. Moving with it was effortless. While the injuries from Damen and Titus were already healing, they still slowed the beast down.
It was easy to block out the noise around me—to only focus on the dragon-like creature that still reminded me of my childhood drawing. That thing had been my masterpiece, and it was a shame to destroy it.
But it wasn’t meant to be in this world, and everyone was really tired.
I threw my arm back, but it had been a long time since I’d practiced… well,anything. My first thrust missed the target. The Snallygaster roared in outrage as it reared onto its hind legs.
My heart was beating wildly, and my skin tingled, as the beast fell back, moving out of reach. Between Titus, who had launched himself on its back, and Julian and Damen, who swiped at its wings, it was already becoming overwhelmed despite being invincible.
Damen’s renewed cursing made me wonder just how many times this situation had replayed itself over the last few days. It began to retreat when its large, single eyeball landed on me. A chill shot down my spine as the creature stopped, limbs locking.
At first, I wasn’t sure what was the matter—it was hard to gather any sort of emotion from the beast’s expression—nor why it had stopped in its retreat.
But then as Damen and Julian moved to my sides, both warily watching the Snallygaster, I spotted it.
On the ground, around the group of us, was a hastily drawn circle in the dirt. My attention moved to Miles, who was off to the side, dropping his walking stick to the ground. His eyes were closed, as he seemed to be completely unaware of his surroundings, and he pressed his right fist to his mouth as his lips moved soundlessly.
Julian’s discomfort intensified as Titus jumped off the monster, landing beside Miles outside of the circle. The white dragon lowered his head to the ground, garnet eyes fixated on the Snallygaster.
But the creature was no longer a threat, nor moving much at all. Instead, it shrugged as its normally solid form began to grow hazy.
Or maybe that was my exhaustion.
I rubbed at my eyes, but Damen’s sharp elbow confirmed that I wasn’t imagining anything at all.
“You did it?” he asked, not seeming happy about whatever-it-was he was complaining about now. “You bonded with Miles?”
Considering that I was currently being eyed by an unmovable, but very angry looking beast—because of course it would choose me to grow annoyed at—I wasn’t thrilled with Damen’s tone. Besides, my arm would probably bruise now.
“That’s between me and him,” I answered, rubbing at the spot he’d elbowed me. I spared a glance at him, noting his locked jaw.
It was like when I bonded with Julian, and now Damen was in a mood about it again.
This, however, wasn’t the time to attend to Damen’s dramatics. Especially as Miles finished his chant, throwing his hand up and scattering something unrecognizable into the air. For a long moment, nothing seemed to happen, but then as the smokey substance spread across the circle, the struggling Snallygaster shakily lowered its head to the ground, still glaring at me, as its wings flexed at its sides.
“Nowyou can go,” Miles shouted.
There was a sense of urgency in the air. The creature’s form continued to change, turning more spirit-like than solid. Whatever it was exactly that Miles had done, it was changing my target.
Making it harder to focus.
With its unblinking gaze trained on me, the beginnings of doubt began to slither through my mind, weakening my resolve.
“Why would you do that?” Damen’s voice sounded so distant now. “Now she’s going to feel bad for it!”
“Likeyoudid?” Julian retorted.
The necromancer said something else after that, but, like his worry, the words faded into the distance.
I didn’t recognize the room at first and, for the first time since these visions had begun, I didn’t feel an overwhelming flow of emotions that weren’t mine. But it was still a jarring feeling, almost dreamlike, because, in the most unexpected development, I was in my own memory.
“What are you drawing?” Miss Kay was leaning over my desk, her long red plait falling over her shoulder. “It’s very pretty.”
“A dragon,” I replied, putting the finishing touches of green in its wings.
“That’s unique. What made you choose that? The assignment was to come up with a picture of your hero. Most girls drew princes.”
I frowned. What good was a prince? They were still people, and I didn’t like people all that much. Especially boys. “He’s a dragon,” I said again, pressing my crayon harder in the picture—the point of the green crayon smooshed into the paper. “So he can eat the bad guys.”
