Maeve
Months ago, when the trees were green and summer bloomed all around me, I used my powers to try to spirit home from the Roguelands. My powers did, in fact, take me home, but… not to the home I expected.
I should have realized it then.
Now, the landscape coming into focus is desolate and barren–an icy hell of wind beaten grass and rough seas… but he’s here. My powers brought me here, back to him, back home.
Firestone witches can have mates, and I’ve found mine, but my powers recognized him before I did.
I like to think the Goddess had a hand in our first two meetings–that She drew him to that tea shop on the same night as me, seeking quiet companionship. That she urged me in his direction after Brie and Logan’s elopement just so we’d cross paths ago, planting the seed of our bond in both of our chests.
Now, my powers have called me home again, but I have no idea where I am. A cold, angry sea laps against a beach of sharp, dark stone. Cliffs overlook the roiling black water, and fog hugs the shoreline as I land, my powers roaring around me in a haze of crimson starlight. Through the magic shielding me, a wind-blown field of gray, dead grass lightly dusted with snow spreads as far as the eye can see around the building in the distance–a small manor, I guess…. No–a lighthouse.
My chest tightens as my powers settle, and I step out of the magical shield.
The lighthouse is long out of use. Dark stone is covered in a thick layer of salt, ice, and centuries of grime. The house beside it has long fallen in on itself, leaving a shell of what it once was–four stories of stone now scattered across the barren island.
There are lighthouses dotted across Eastonia, but I’ve never seen nor heard of this once. My powers surge, giving me an idea of how far I am from Moonrise right now, but the mark Soren left on my neck tingles to life, and I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he’s here.
I look over my shoulder for the force that followed me into the ether, but Grandpa Ryatt is nowhere to be seen.
The gem-like armor covering my body glistens in the gray, foggy daylight as I turn back to the building, my magic sizzling in warning as several shadows break from the fog and rush in my direction.
Wolves and armed men charge at full speed, weapons raised and sharp teeth glistening in the bleak daylight. Beyond them, people stream out of the house shouting and cursing commands.
Why would they even bother? Don’t they know who I am?
I raise a single finger and send my powers soaring in a spray of curling crimson starlight, wiping out at least a dozen men in the space of a heartbeat. Their bodies vanish in thin air, falling to the ground in fractals–burnt to a crisp–nothing but glowing embers.
The men in the rear of the charge skid to a stop and immediately turn back, running toward the lighthouse, but I’m beyond showing mercy. I’m not thinking straight. Every step I take over the crunchy, frozen grass is a step away from my newborn daughter and a step toward the man I know is being held here against his will. If he’s so much as bruised… gods, I’ll kill every last one of them.
My hair billows out behind me as I raise both hands and send a spray of pure, white-hot silver fire toward the lighthouse, scorching the men trying to escape. My power booms like thunder, sending a shockwave across what I believe is a very small, insignificant island off the far northern coast of Tarsian, perhaps, over the impassable mountains that mark the eastern edge of our great continent. It doesn’t fucking matter because I’m going to send this entire island toppling into the ocean if I don’t… rein… myself… in….
I scream, the full force of my fury sending a tidal wave of flames across the barren field with me in its center. My power radiates from me like live flames–in the pit of hell itself–and I let it. I let it flow through me at its full strength, and I don’t feel an ounce of ice. No, I’m hot. Burning from the inside out as my next scream paints the ground black with embers, and the sky goes dark from the smoke left in my magic’s wake.
“WHERE IS HE?!” I screech, sending another blast of magic toward the lighthouse, which scorches, my flames shattering the windows and sending old stone toppling to the ground.
The air around me goes thin and silent as I let my powers simmer before retreating. The smoke clears, driven by the wind coming off the water, but even the waves crashing into the jagged cliffs seem to draw away from my fury, the water going suddenly calm.
There are no bodies left to step over. My boots crunch across blackened, burnt grass as I move toward the lighthouse and the manor beside it. They’re caved in even more now, with large chunks of stone piled neared what could have been an entrance at some point but is now a gaping hole exposing the inside of the house to the elements.
And then I see him.
“MAEVE, MOVE!” Soren shouts, dragging a totally limp Blake onto the scarred grass as he exits the building. Patton’s at his other side barely able to hold himself upright and grips Soren’s shoulder for support…. But it’s the woman climbing out of the rubble that catches my attention–my magic’s attention. Pale skin and short black hair. Big, wide, green eyes. A sick, twisting smile of surprise as she spots me and sucks in a breath.
Her banshee scream knocks me off balance. It rattles through me, vibrating like I’m being hammered against my temples. I cover my ears as my powers hiss and curl away from the sound.
Soren’s scream of pain echoes, and his mark on my neck scorches, hot enough to blister. He buckles, falling to the ground in agony on top of Blake. Soren covers his ears like her scream is slicing into brain, slicing him from the inside out. Patton passes out after a long, guttural howl, but Blake remains motionless–lifeless.
My stomach curls as dread fills my system, temporarily distracting my powers.
The Viper frees herself from the rubble and rushes in my direction, her left leg obviously weak and dragging behind her when she raises her hands. Her fingers glow silver from her powers surging between her fingers, knitting into something solid–twin blades that grow and stretch with each wobbly step she takes toward Soren.
I drop my hands from my ears and match her scream, but louder, sending the full force of my powers careening toward her in a shower of crimson light that makes the ground shake and rolls. My flames erupt next, turning from streaks of silver fire into the form of… a wolf. A great, sleek, wolf made of flame and starlight. It leaps over Soren and soars through the air, jaw slack, its coat flaming and teeth gleaming as it collides with the Viper.
But she slices through my flames like butter, her swords of silver cutting the wolf down in an instant.
The pain reverberates back to me. My arms quake, but I hold steady, swaying just a touch. She raises her swords over Soren, and I… I…
A burst of shadow covers the island in darkness before an explosion of power explodes, knocking me and the Viper to the ground. Grandpa Ryatt appears in silence, his face set in determination as he wields the Shadowsword, it’s hilt inlaid with gems glowing bright, and swings, metal singing as it splits the air around us into pieces.
The Viper flies backward, caught in the current of his immense powers of darkness and shadow.
Grandpa Ryatt slowly turns his head, his eyes holding on mine. “Now.”
“MAEVE!” Soren shouts, struggling upright as he drags Blake’s useless body with him, “DO IT! KILL HER!”
I hesitate, my powers flickering as the high of righteous fury that’s been carrying me for the last… ten minutes… fades as quickly as it came. I look from Grandpa to Soren, then to the woman struggling to get back to her feet, her body bloodied and in shambles but her strength returning in real time. She shouldn’t be alive. There’s no way she could still be alive.
“MAEVE!” Soren screams, his eyes meeting mine in the smoky haze, but his voice cracks. I can see the confusion, exhaustion, and surrender in his eyes.
The Viper begins her banshee scream a second time, but I silence it, raising my hands, and give her everything I have. My powers flow through me in silence. It’s painless. Slow. Like time is standing still. Maybe time is standing still as my powers fill the air–heavy and all-consuming.
I’m… trained. I trained for this. I spent a decade testing and honing these powers but never–never at this strength. I painted the sky red for Moonrise. I pulled power from the eclipsed moon and the shadowed stars that night, bringing back the light, but… this feeling is different. This power takes up space. It fills me, twists me, and brings me to my knees as I keep one hand raised to the heavens and one toward Soren, where I try to shield him from what’s going to come next.
He calls out my name before falling back to his knees, his eyes holding mine to the last possible second. He has to know. He has to know one flick of my fingers will bring this island into the sea. He has to know I could send a wall of flames toward the heavens that will consume everything, and everyone, left standing. He has to know I could–I could open a portal and suck the Viper into it, couldn’t I?
Can’t I do that?
Soren blinks, his eyes uncharacteristically wet, and he… smiles. He laughs, yelling my name, egging me on.
He’s not afraid of me. Even now.
The bond yanks me back to reality. I scream as my powers surge, draining, and then snap in a burst of heat so extreme it turns the lighthouse and the manor to nothing but ash in a single second. The Viper just… dissolves, disappearing into a puff of ash as her banshee screams cut out for good.
But my powers don’t just flicker out. A shockwave bounces back to me, knocking me off my feet. Grandpa grabs my arm, and we roll to a stop. Silence creeps in again while my body starts to go numb.
Wind rushes over us, whipping my hair into a frenzy. Grandpa’s screaming at me as he clutches my face between his hands, but I can’t hear him. I taste… blood. My vision darkens at the edges and his image fades.
A faint tug in my chest brings him back into focus for a few seconds, but it’s not enough. Soren’s yanking on the bond, trying to tug me back to life. I feel him there, pulling the strings, refusing to let me fade into the darkness.
Grandpa’s eyes search mine. His mouth moves, his brow pinched in desperation. He says my name–screams it–and shakes me by the shoulders. A shadow passes over him, and suddenly, Soren is here, pulling me upright, pinching my cheeks as he shouts in my face. His voice is loud, vibrating through my body, and his eyes are… angry. Absolutely fucking livid.
“Do not give up!” he screams, clutching me to his chest and pressing my face against his neck. “Maeve, for the love of the Goddess, if you die here I’m going to find a way to resurrect you so I can kill you myself!”
I blink, blearily looking over his shoulder at the scorched remains of the island. A man is standing in the center of the devastation I caused, his body covered by a cloak billowing around his too tall build. His strange, almost white eyes lock on mine, and his mouth is curved into the softest, most wicked of smiles. But he’s… hazy. The way he moves is… dreamlike.
Hannibal. It has to be.
He turns his head to look at… Blake.
My dying heart thumps, lurching, as he raises a hand, snaking, violet light curling between his fingers and creating a swirling… vortex… a portal… right over where Soren left Blake lying face down in the ash.
“No,” I croak, gasping for breath. “NO!!!”
I shove Soren back as the last of my powers rage to awareness, and I send them flying, slicing through the distance between us, and cut through Hannibal’s magic before it snatches Blake. Hannibal slowly looks at me with that same smile that makes my stomach twist with disgust.
His voice booms through my head, loud and clear, “We’ll meet again, Firestone. It has only just begun.”
His form falls away, drifting like flakes of ash on the brisk wind.
Grandpa watches the ash float away, his eyes dark and expression searing, then rises, sliding the sword into the hilt along his back in one swift, smooth motion, then moves to tend to Blake and Soren.
Soren lowers me against the ground, rising over me, casting me in his shadow.
“Look at me,” he says hoarsely. His face is covered in bruises, and his eyes are rimmed red.
“You look like shit,” I croak, and he blows out his breath, chuckling darkly.
“You don’t look much better.”
My eyes flood with tears–happy ones. The Viper is gone. Hannibal… left. To where, I don’t know, but Soren is free.
“Did you have blond hair as a kid?” I ask as he smooths his hand over my cheek.
He searches my gaze for understanding and finds it with startling consequences. He takes a shallow breath, hanging his head for a moment before meeting my eyes again. “She’s here?” he whispers, his eyes wide and damp.
I nod as energy rushes around us. Sydney, my father, and a legion of Ghosts arrive to clean up the mess and guide us home.
To our daughter.