Page 129 of The Crown of the Dark Prince
Were she Mortal, I would have shoved her through the portal already, sealing it with ease. But she wasn’t. Her strength was a force of nature, making my power feel like an ember flickering against a roaring inferno.
Blood trickled from my nose, dotting the marble floor in steady, rhythmic splatters. I poured everything I had into pulling her closer, my magic tethering her like a golden chain. Just a little further. Just one more step.
She stumbled again. Her crimson hair hung in disarray, and her burning gaze locked onto mine with a hatred that seared. I pulled harder, summoning strength from the deepest, most desperate parts of me.
But then she straightened.
Andlaughed.
The sound grated, sharp and mocking, as she tilted her head with infuriating ease. “Oh, that was fun,” she said, brushing at her gown as though she’d merely tripped on a step. With a flick of her wrist, my magic snapped like brittle thread.
The recoil hit me like a blow, rippling through my body and forcing me back a step. I gasped, clawing for the remnants of my power, but the well had run dry. My legs trembled, barely holding me upright.
Pasnia’s smirk widened as she smoothed imaginary dust from her shoulder. “You didn’t really think it would be that easy, did you?”
The suffocating fog of her magic crept into my mind. I clawed at my temples, trying to fight the weight of it, but with my power so depleted, it slithered through easily, filling my thoughts with screams and death. The images seared into my mind like branding irons.
“I didn’t need you to lower the Veil all the way,” Pasnia continued, her voice maddeningly calm, as if this were all a game. “I just needed you to crack it.”
My vision cleared just enough to see her pull a small vial from the pouch at her waist. The crimson liquid inside shimmered and the tiniest bit of magic left in me flared, recognizing it.
That was my blood.
“No.” The word came out as a broken whisper, my head shaking as if I could will it out of existence.
She uncorked the bottle with a measured twist, dipping her finger inside to smear a streak of blood onto the open pages of theBook of the Gods. Her lips moved, a single whisper—a sentence so soft it was barely more than a breath.
And everything changed.
Pain erupted in a white-hot blaze, consuming every nerve in my body. My knees buckled, and I hit the floor hard, but the impact was a distant ache beneath the agony ripping me apart. My screams filled the air, raw and unrelenting, but they sounded far away, swallowed by the torrent of shock.
It wasn’t just pain. It was theft. My very essence—the magic stitched into my soul—was being wrenched free against my will. The golden threads that defined me, that wereme, tore away violently, spilling from my body in radiant, blinding waves. They scattered across the floor like molten light.
“You naïve little girl,” Pasnia’s voice cut through the haze, mocking and sharp. “You think you’ve matured into a goddess, but you’re nothing more than a child wearing a crown that doesn’t quite fit yet.”
The portal shimmered, alive and writhing, expanding as if it had a mind of its own. My stolen magic fed it, the golden glow pulsating with each beat of my heart, and every breath it took drained me further, leaving me raw and hollow.
Cracks splintered through my power. The windows shattered, golden light exploding outward as more portals, wild and uncontrolled, tore the world open. The ballroom filled with chaos, glass shards raining down as the threads of my magic unraveled everything around me.
I clawed for control of my power, desperate to summon even a flicker of strength. But nothing remained. Everything I was Pasnia now controlled.
Through the haze, I saw it.
A pair of boots stepped through the portal, their heavy tread resonating across the marble. My gaze followed, past the dark trousers and simple tunic that revealed strong forearms to the figure’s face.
A neatly combed beard, streaked with silver. Eyes as sharp and as bright blue as my own.
Hyrax.
The God of Death. My father.
I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was watch as Pasnia, wielding my stolen power, widened the portal further.
Behind him, shadows twisted and writhed. The legions of the Underworld poured into the ballroom, their forms monstrous and endless.
My magic ran out.
Only hollow emptiness remained.
