ever accept or love a monster like you, and that’s what you’re afraid of—being alone.”
“Nooooooo!” Eva pounces on top of me, knocking me onto the floor. “It was you who made me this way! You took everything from me. My mother—father—Ronan—the throne!”
Each exclamation is punctured by the sounds of her fist slamming into my face.
I reach out blindly, my eyes too swollen to see through and grab whatever I can. I hear her choke and I know that I’ve got her throat, so I dig my nails in as deeply as possible in an attempt to thrust her off me. When the sound of glass shattering and Eva’s screams bellow around me, I’m able to see again. The tattoo on my arm glows like a beacon as Eva, running backward, swats my raven friends away from her. Wren, Crowe, and Rook peck at her face and wounds, and I know this is the only opportunity I’ll have if I want this to end.
As my friends fly away, I scramble to my feet, summoning the sword within me. It materialises into my hand, instantly healing all my wounds and giving me strength again as I run over to Eva.
A quick, tactful stab to the heart is all it takes.
Eva clutches at her chest, her mouth gasping around silent words, and falls back. I catch her before she hits the floor and I stay there with her. An unexpected pity takes hold of me as I watch her die. A small part of me wishes that it didn’t have to come to this. I may not have liked Eva from the get-go, but I never wanted her to become…this.
“I just—” The words catch in Eva’s throat as she chokes on blood; the liquid oozing from her mouth is black instead of red. “I just wanted to be remembered.”
I don’t tell her that her kingdom will remember her, for all the wrong reasons, because I know that Eva wasn’t always like this. She wasn’t poisoned or corrupted right from the beginning. It was the lure of the darkness that did this to her. It twisted her pain and rejection into something so sinister that she became unrecognisable, perhaps even to herself.
As the Princess of Helios dies in my arms, I sing to her the first song Pitch ever sang to me—the one about the girl and the Wishing Well—and I tell her to make a wish.
This time, it will come true for her.
Leaving my sister’s dead body on the ash and rumble covered floor, I slide my sword from her heart and stand up tall. The sword whispers into my ear as I drag my bruised and sore feet to the balcony that overlooks the city. The war zone. Screams and cries of pain that I will never forget linger in my ears as the smell of blood and magic attacks my senses. Dragons litter the skies, some of them slamming into the Titans and biting them in any place that they can. But they don’t stand a chance. It’s evident when two dragons are punched out of the sky by a Titan.
My hand shakes around the sword as it starts to glow black, radiating power up my arm.
Together.
The word seems strange as I stare out over the city and close my eyes, letting the sword’s power mix with my own. It makes me stronger and so much more powerful than I ever thought imaginable. My feet leave the balcony as black, white, and grey magic swirl around me in crackling waves, never touching my skin but destroying everything around me.
This is my fate.
The sword increases whatever magic is in your soul—the magic you are made with. My existence was made by the mirror and I am all the power there is in the world.
I am a light fae.
I am a dark fae.
But my heart and soul will always be shadowborn.
“LEAVE!” I scream to my people, to anyone that fights on my side. “Fall back! Fall back now!”
I use my power to echo my voice into all their ears. The Titans notice me at the same time the final word leaves my lips, and they storm my way, desperate to stop me before it’s too late.
the sword tells me and I laugh. Yes, we will. Then