Chapter 65 Two days left

Chapter 65 Two days left
A profound silence hung in the atmosphere, the kind you only find miles away from the nearest paved road. The towering Ironwood pines created a dense canopy that blocked out the weak winter sun, leaving the forest floor in perpetual twilight.

I shivered, pulling the oversized canvas jacket tighter around my sling. My broken shoulder was a dull, grinding companion, a constant reminder of the fall that had brought us here.

Estava didn't wait for me. She marched ahead, her staff thumping rhythmically on the needle-covered ground.

"This will do," Estava said, turning to face me. In this primal setting, she looked less like a frail old woman and more like she was carved out from wood or something.

"What do I do?" I asked, my voice feeling small in the vast quiet.

"You stop apologizing for existing," Estava snapped. She paced around me, her eyes critical. "You're afraid of the power. You think if you ignore it, it will go away. But it's in your blood, Sylvania. Seratti told the truth about that. You are Hera’s daughter."

Hearing it out loud, in the cold light of day, made my stomach churn. "I don't want to be."

"Wanting has nothing to do with it. You are a hybrid vessel. Human soul, sorceress blood. That combination is volatile. It’s why you can do things even Hera can't." She stopped pacing. "Now, call it up."

"How? It only happens when I'm terrified. Or angry."

"Then get angry," she challenged. "Look at your life. You were born to a monstrosity of a father. Your mother—the one who adopted you—was murdered because of it. Your sister is catatonic in a cabin ten minutes that way, and the only man who probably would ever truly loved you is lying on a cot with a broken spine because he had to save you from your own family."

Her words were daggers, slicing through the numbness I’d wrapped around myself.

"Feel that?" Estava pressed, stepping closer. "That heat in your chest? That isn't fear. That's rage. Don't swallow it. Don't hide it behind a wall. Use it as fuel."

I closed my eyes, trying to access the feeling I'd had in the sewer, or when I paralyzed my dad's arm. I remembered the heat, the seductive hum beneath my skin. I reached for it.

A flicker of violet static danced across my good hand. My shoulder throbbed fiercely.

"Pathetic," Estava sneered. "A sparkler. Hera is coming with a flamethrower."

"I'm trying!" I yelled, frustration mounting.

"Try harder! She isn't just coming to kill you, girl. She's coming to wear you. To kick your soul out and take the wheel. And when she does, the first thing she’ll do—using your hands, your voice—is tear that little girl in the cabin apart just to taste your despair."

The image hit me like a physical blow. Sylvia, screaming, while my hands hurt her.

Something inside me snapped. It wasn't a conscious decision. It was a primal rejection of that future.

The roar that tore out of my throat didn't sound human. It sounded ancient.

The violet energy didn't just flicker this time. It erupted.

It surged from my solar plexus, a torrent of thick, amethyst fire that rushed down my arm, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. I didn't aim. I just pushed it out.

A wave of raw, destructive magic slammed into the massive boulder in the center of the clearing.

The sound was deafening, like a lightning strike at ground zero. The ground beneath my feet shook violently, knocking me onto my backside.

Dust and stone chips rained down. When the air cleared, the massive boulder was gone. In its place was a scorched crater in the earth, the edges glowing with fading purple embers.

Silence rushed back into the clearing, heavier than before.

I sat on the cold ground, gasping for air. My arm was shaking uncontrollably.

I looked at Estava. She hadn't moved. She stood near the edge of the crater, her face illuminated by the dying glow. For the first time since I'd met her, she looked genuinely unsettled.

"Well," Estavs breathed, her voice lacking its usual bite. "That’s a start."

I looked down at my hands. They were coated in fine gray dust from the pulverized rock. Underneath the grime, the veins in my forearm were pulsing with a faint, residual violet light.

It hadn't hurt to release that much power. That was the terrifying part.

It had felt incredible.

It had felt like taking a lungful of pure oxygen after drowning for years. It felt… easy.

"It felt like her, didn't it?" Estava asked softly, reading my mind.

I looked up at her, tears stinging my eyes. "Yes. It felt good. God help me, it felt good to destroy something."

Estava walked over and offered me a hand up. Her grip was surprisingly strong.

"That is the trap, Sylvania. The power is intoxicating. Hera is addicted to it. Your challenge isn't just to use the weapon. It's to use it without becoming addicted yourself. You have three days to learn the difference between using the power to protect, and using it because you enjoy the destruction."

We walked back to the cabin in silence. I felt drained, hollowed out, yet simultaneously buzzing with leftover adrenaline.

When we pushed open the cabin door, the warmth of the fire hit my face. Julian looked jumpy. Aleera was trying to get Sylvia to eat a protein bar.

At the sound of the door, Sylvia looked up. Her eyes went wide when she saw me.

She scrambled backward off the crate, pressing herself into the corner of the cabin, wrapping her arms around her knees.

"Sylvia?" I took a step toward her. "It's okay, it's me."

She shook her head frantically, her eyes locked on my hands—the hands still dusty with pulverized rock, still faintly humming with dark magic.

"You look like the bad men," she whispered, her voice trembling. "Your eyes... they were purple."

I froze. My heart shattered. I had tapped into the power to save her, and in doing so, I had terrified her.

I backed away slowly, holding my hands up in a placating gesture. "Okay. Okay, Lil-bit. I'm staying back. I'm sorry."

I retreated to the far side of the cabin, sinking onto the floor next to Vesper’s cot.

He was still deeply asleep, the sedatives doing their work. His face was pale, the bruises stark against his skin. He looked vulnerable in a way the Warlord never should.

I reached out with a trembling hand, carefully taking his fingers in mine. His skin was cool, but no longer freezing.

I looked from Vesper’s broken body to Sylvia's terrified form in the corner.

My dad was right. I was half-monster. And if I was going to keep these two people alive against the thing coming for us in three days, I was going to have to embrace the monster part of me.

I leaned my head against the metal frame of the cot, closing my eyes, listening to the wind howl outside, sounding like a distant army on the march.

Day one was over. Two left.