Page 18 of Wrath of the Fae Queen
I swing my sword in my hand. I can take all three low fae in their Nightmare forms on my own, right? Even if they are famed Assassins of Belladonna. The order seems to attract these Starlight fae the most, even though they take members from all over the realm.
They attack as one. I spin in a clash of steel against claws, deflecting each swipe in a shower of sparks. My enchanted blade absorbs magic with every impact. I fall to my knees as the obsidian hound leaps for my throat, then roll out of the way as two of Nico’s taloned hands attempt to catch me. I slash as I go, and one of his hands falls to the ground with a sickening thump.
My blood races through me. I laugh as I jump to my feet outside their little killing circle. These big, bad assassins are no match for me. They turn in unison, the hound the first to lunge at me. I shoot the creature away with a blast of air that has its body arcing through the void of the cavern. Then I thrust my sword straight into Ada’s chest right before her tail can wraparound me again. She lets out a strangled cry as I maneuver the sword still embedded in her to crash her into Nico’s path.
The sound of more flapping wings and bounding paws echoes from one of the side passages. My heart sinks as nervous sweat drips down my spine. By the gods, I will not survive more of them. I know what I have to do, but it will consume all of the magic I have been collecting in my enchanted sword.
The memory of Dante’s voice crashes through my mind.
“Nightmares cannot die. You will not be able to kill them. Not unless you know exactly how to do it. The low fae of the Starlight Court have bodies as fluid as a shadow. You can chop off as much as you want and the matter will return to them.” Then he laughed. “You, on the other hand, can perish, and they will not hold back.”
“All creatures can die,” I replied. “I have killed Assassins of Belladonna before.”
“Have you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.“Have you really?”
I cannot kill the Nightmares unless I discover a secret truth. They will rise and rise again to attack me through these tunnels, no matter how hard I fight. But I did learn one thing during our travels between courts: they cannot tolerate direct sunlight.
Just as two more low fae charge out of one of the passages, I tear my sword from Ada’s chest and raise it high in the air. I activate the reservoir of raw magic within its enchanted depths. Light explodes out of the blade in its purest form, burning up as bright as the sun.
The enemies around me rear back from the intense radiation of the beam, covering themselves with arms and leathery wings. They screech as they try to flee. As their dark flesh peels from their bodies and turns to clouds of ash.
The brightness of the light burns my eyes and causes tears to roll down my face, but I force them open. I cannot afford to look away.
Many fall in their attempt to run and are unable to get back up as they disintegrate. There is blind fear within their eyes, turned milky white, as they come completely undone. I grimace at the pain I have inflicted. Bile rises up my throat, but I do not stop.
I asked Dante during that conversation if the light of day killed the Nightmares, and he shrugged and said some fates are worse than death. Looking at the low fae writhing and kicking on the floor, it is clear this is like being burned alive without the relief of death. I am not proud of inducing such torment, but this is survival.
I will not die here and leave Keira to her fate.
I am prepared to do horrendous things to save my queen.
I extinguish the power radiating from my blade. Such a trick doesn’t work on the high fae of the Starlight Court. It doesn’t make the Nightmares any weaker than them. In many cases the opposite is true.
I turn and race down the path at my back. This is my second trial, and it has a single goal: navigate through this underground tunnel system without dying and steal the relic at its center.
I bring to mind the blueprints Dante brought me to memorize, easily taking turn after turn. The darkness is thick here, and I am forced to light fire orbs to illuminate my way. It puts me at a disadvantage, as the glow announces my approach.
The way opens out to an immense cavern and the sound of rushing water is amplified by a ceiling so high it is lost to inky darkness. Thousands of tiny waterfalls trickle down the stone walls before meeting a crashing river below. A gentle light is emitted from each one, as the water itself glows, along with the population of buzzing sprites. It is beautiful, in an ominous way.I am all too aware of the assassins that could be hiding in the many shadows between the rocky ridges.
I stand upon a wide platform that leads to a narrow stone bridge without rails that spans over the void. Its thin support beams are anchored into the riverbed below, white froth forming around their bases as the rapids crash around them.
I hope to the gods that the bridge is more stable than it looks.
At its end is a single, tall limestone stack with an altar holding a wooden chest. This is where I will find the relic and complete my second trial.
Then my eye catches the movements in the shadows.
Dark forms leap between the inky pockets of the cavern’s jagged rock walls. My blood turns to ice, because they don’t charge and attack. No, they prepare for the kind of ambush I have encountered from them before, when they chased me out of my own court.
I count three assassins, but there could be more.
I do not know how far they will take this trial. If these assassins will do everything in their power to kill me, or if they will merely make the challenge difficult enough to weed out weaklings.
My grip tightens on my sword and I absorb every last drop of raw power left within its reservoir, until my body is overcharged and crackling with magic. I smile with violent delight as I squat and place a hand on the stone ground, reaching my magic and awareness through each deposit of organic matter until I touch the muddy floor of the river. I find thick roots of ghost mangroves thriving in the shallow banks.
I pump my earth magic into every single tree I can touch, rapidly thickening their roots and branches. Growing their trunks and bending them unnaturally until hundreds of woody tentacles climb up the support beams of the bridge, sprouting white leaves as they go. I curl my fingers and the ghostmangroves interweave over the bridge, forming a thick, woody cage around the entire runway.
This is my protection for what I know will come next.
