Page 142 of The Curse of Golden Blood
I threw sunfire in her face. A barrier erupted from the floor, deflecting the blast, cracking under the heat. Before the last shards had finished falling, I was moving. Darting through thedebris, feinting high, rolling right, kicking off the remaining pillar, taking advantage of surprise and momentum.
My palm connected with her shoulder. Power poured through the contact, seeking to burn through whatever defenses she'd raised. She twisted away, light bleeding from the wound, and her counterattack came as a whip of condensed starfire that carved chunks from the marble where I'd been standing.
"You fight like a child," she snarled, weaving protection spells around herself. Golden armor materialized over her robes, each plate etched with runes that hurt to look at directly.
"Then come kill me, old woman." I didn't break eye contact. "Put an end to the dream child who always stood between you and a throne that was never yours to inherit."
I launched myself upward, power beneath my feet turning marble to launch pad. The ceiling rushed toward me. At the last second, I kicked off a support beam, changed trajectory, came down at her from an angle she couldn't have predicted.
This time she was ready. Her hand caught my wrist mid-strike, twisted until bones ground together. Light erupted from her palm, not outward but inward, seeking to cook me from the inside. I bit back a scream, channeled sunfire down my arm, turned my blood into molten metal that burned through her grip.
She jerked back, shaking her hand, perfect skin blistered and weeping. Her jaw tightened as she glared at me, a muscle feathering near her right eye. "Your fire can't beat me, little sister. I invented the flames we wield."
The throne room had become our arena. Every surface scarred by missed attacks, every pillar a potential weapon. She moved like water, like light itself, each gesture summoning new horrors. Spears of compressed radiance that punchedthrough stone. Nets of golden thread that could slice through steel. Walls of fire that followed me as I ran.
I was faster. Younger. More desperate. But she had centuries of experience, power refined to lethal perfection. Every spell I threw, she had three counters. Every opening I found, she'd already closed.
The tide turned when she made her first mistake.
I feinted left, rolled right, came up throwing sunfire in a wide arc that forced her to raise a barrier. While she was distracted, I grabbed a chunk of rubble, channeled power through it until it glowed white-hot, and hurled it at the massive window behind her.
Glass exploded outward. Wind rushed in, carrying the scent of burning gardens.
"Clever," she admitted, spinning to face the breach. "But ultimately pointless."
That's when I tackled her, pure physical force, momentum carrying us both toward the shattered window. We went through in a tangle of limbs and curses, glass cutting skin, the throne room falling away above us.
We tumbled through empty air, the Sun Court's golden spires reaching up like hungry fingers. She clawed at my face, tried to break free, but I held on with everything I had. If this was how it ended, if this was the price of stopping her, then I'd pay it gladly.
We separated, spinning away from each other in the howling wind. She spread wings of condensed starlight, caught herself, hung there like some terrible angel of judgment.
"Do you know what separates gods from insects, little sister?" Each word dripped with the weight of millennia. "Insects believe their brief struggles matter. Gods understand that all things are temporary except power itself."
The light between her hands took shape. A concentrated fragment of the first sun, when stars were young and cruel and beautiful.
"I have watched empires rise and crumble to dust. I have seen heroes become legends become forgotten whispers. And through it all, I endured. I adapted. I ruled." The miniature star pulsed, growing brighter, hungrier. "That is what it means to be eternal, Miralyte."
The golden spires rushed up to meet us. Reality reasserted itself with bone-jarring finality.
We hit the palace courtyard, power cushioning the impact just enough to keep us breathing. Marble cracked in spider-web patterns beneath us. Fountains shattered. Ancient statuary toppled as shockwaves rippled outward.
Ylvena landed on her feet, naturally. Power rippled around her like heat distortion, keeping the worst of the impact at bay. Her perfect hair barely looked mussed.
"Still breathing," she observed with clinical interest. "How tediously persistent."
I pushed myself upright, legs shaking but holding. Sunfire flickered around my fingers, weak but present. Not dead yet. Not beaten yet.
"Look at yourself," she continued, tracking my movements with predatory ease. "Bleeding, desperate, fighting with instinct instead of skill. This is her legacy."
A spear of light punched through the rubble beside me. Stone vaporized. Heat washed over me in waves that should have killed me instantly.
"I offered to teach you properly. To show you what our bloodline was truly capable of." She stepped into the open, no longer bothering with cover. Power wreathed her like armor, made her untouchable. "But you chose sentiment overstrength. Chose to cling to mortal weaknesses instead of embracing divine potential."
I broke from cover, sunfire blazing around me in desperate defiance. She met my charge with casual grace, deflecting my attack with a gesture that sent shockwaves through the courtyard.
"Even now, you hold back." Her palm struck my chest, launched me backward into rubble. "Even facing death, you refuse to unleash what you truly are."
I hit the stone hard enough to see stars. Blood ran from my nose, my mouth, probably everywhere else. Getting up seemed impossible. Staying conscious was a struggle.
