Page 125 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
Iris and her Order moved like lightning, their blades flashing as they met the onslaught of guards. I watched wide eyes as their blades met in thunderous crashes, but I couldn’t move. I was still sprawled on the floor, my lungs fighting for air, my vision blurred.
The Dragon moved towards me.
Get up, I told myself, planting my hands against the cold marble.Get up.
His fingers finally extended into talons, too long and crooked to be correct, but sharp enough to slice me in half.
No. This man was not going to kill me.
He was not going to force Clay through another heartbreak.
Power surged within me, sharp and relentless. Golden threads of magic lashed out, snapping through the air like a whip. The guards fell to their knees, their bodies trembling as my power wrapped around them, holding them in place. I knocked the Dragon from his feet, sending him careening across the room before forming my connection with him. Their life forces quivered beneath my grasp, delicate and fragile.
If I wanted to, I could send them all to the Underworld in an instant. For a moment, the thought was tempting. It would be so easy to seize controland end them.
But I wouldn’t.
The Veil had been raised because a God had been too reckless with the lives of Mortals. I would not make the same mistake.
“Where is Pasnia?” I demanded, my voice ringing out like steel.
The Dragon rolled on the floor, looking up absently at the ceiling as a twisted grin split his bloodied face. His laughter was low and jagged, spilling from his lips like broken glass.
"I'm right here, darling," he whispered, the words not his own.
The room stilled, an icy chill settling over us.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The sound of heels echoed across the marble, sharp and deliberate.
Pasnia.
I turned to the throne slowly, my lungs frozen, unable to breathe as I laid eyes on her.
The Goddess of Madness strolled into view casually, her movements unhurried, exuding an air of absolute control. Her crimson hair spilled down her back in flawless waves, a stark contrast to her alabaster skin. She wore a sleek black silk gown that clung to her figure, the neckline plunging daringly low, and a small pouch hung from a belt at her hips. She grinned, her eyes pinning me in place—cold, calculating, and brimming with malicious glee.
“That's impressive,” she purred, nodding towards the guards still held motionless under my power. Her voice was as smooth and sweet as poisoned honey. Slowly, she lowered herself elegantly to the throne, crossing one leg over the other. Then, with a languid motion, she reached behind the shattered throne and withdrew a massive tome.
TheBook of the Gods.
It's power rolled through the room in oppressive waves, nearly driving me to my knees.
“I’m more impressive,” Pasnia whispered with a sly smile.
Then everything went to hell.
The guards turned their weapons on themselves, their screams piercing the air as they crumpled to the floor in pools of their own blood.
“No!” My voice cracked, raw with desperation, as the room descended into madness.
Pasnia didn’t even glance at the carnage. Her focus was solely on me. And suddenly I was aware of her magic rushing toward me. Pointlessly, I threw up my arms as if that would do anything to stop it. Her power pressed against my mind, dark and insidious, threatening to overwhelm me. I struggled against it, the feeling of it so much more invasive than the interrogation of a Truthseeker. It was faster, harder, deeper than anything I'd ever felt before. Even as I pushed her away with all my might, with all my magic, she kept sliding closer and closer.
It took only a touch of her magic against my mind to know that while I may be a Goddess, I wasn't strong enough to fight her.
