Page 96 of The Starlight Savior

Conor was silent, head bowed, hair sticking to his sweat slicked forehead.

“I think,” he said slowly, “that’s what happens when you can’t escape the mist.”

“I-I—” She was unable to meet Conor’s gaze. That was no monster of the night lurking in the magical kingdoms. It was a creature of the mist. Distorted and misshapen, a beacon of betrayal.

“Who is Sybil?”

Conor only pointed to the body. “She was one of my tutors. Handmaid to my mother.”

Saige couldn’t even fathom what Conor was saying. That was his handmaid? Someone he had grown up with? It was unimaginable to think that the mist had turned someone so ordinary and significant into a ruthless, rotting creature.

She unpeeled her back from the wall, numbly striding over to Conor and placing a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry,” she murmured.

He let out a deep sigh. “My father and Tobin may have trained me, but she taught me everything I needed to know about the world. Herbology, medicine, politics. And now she is this.” The last sentence came out sharp, spit flying from his lip. “She was supposed to leave with us. To the capital.”

“Why didn’t she?”

Conor strode over to what was left of Sybil; his hands trailed over the fabrics. Now that the handmaid turned creature was still, she could see the echo of the Zathos house sigil on the fabric. Past the rotting flesh and infections, sharp nails protruded from her fingers.

“She wanted to find a cur—”

Quicker than Saige had ever seen, the creature sprung up, flinging bile from its mouth and into his face.

“Conor!” she shouted, running forward as the creature pushed him onto his back. His hands flew up where angry marks sizzled against his cheeks. Her eyes roamed the cellar in search of any sort of weapon, but the room was a blur before her. Conor normally carried a blade, yet his baldric was empty.

Sybil lurched forward on all fours until its decaying head towered over Conor. With oozing hands, it flung the strong warlock up and pushed him into the mirror.

Glass shattered all around him.

His head smacked hard against the silver edge. Her limbs went cold as Saige stopped in her tracks. She was weaponless, her magic cowering beneath her skin. All she could think about was protecting Conor.

It crept towards him, moaning as if preparing for the final kill. But Conor didn’t get up. His chest rose and fell, but his head was slumped to the side, arms slack next to him. Blood covered the ground, but Saige wasn’t sure where from. With the amount of glass, it could be from anywhere.

“Hey!” Saige screamed, hoping to draw the creature towards her. She ignored the voice in her head reminding her of her failure in accessing her magic. Nor did she have any fighting skills. They would not die here though. Not now.

She held out her palms. There was no time to go over mindfulness exercises or to draw from her emotions. She needed to be present now. Especially considering the creature was raising its hand, sharp nails glistening in the candlelight.

But her magic did not come.

With a frustrated groan, Saige threw herself at the creature with all of her strength. Her hands burned as they collided with open wounds and leaking pores. What used to be Sybil let out an equally agitated scream as it was flung back into the pile of glass. Saige steadied herself as she pressed her hands into its shoulders. The thin skin broke as the creature pushed against her. One hand reached out, striking Saige against the face. Saige ducked, but not before a spit of bile flew from the creature’s mouth.

This is not going to work.

Getting close to it, she could feel her flesh beginning to burn from its disease of the mist. She needed to find a different way to fight.

Saige rolled herself off the creature, kicking out with her feet. It slid on the ground, screaming as small bits of glass cut into its skin.

She surveyed the room. Glass bottles and jars had been thrown about, but so were supplies. She spotted rope and gardening tools, but the metal seemed too dull to fight. The creature circled around her, mouth dripping and teeth clattering. Saige matched its stance, one eye on Sybil and the other on her surroundings.

Finally, she caught sight of something shiny. Familiar.

The hilt of a sword peaked out from a large leather pack, discarded weapons from the boys’ training days. Running towards it, she felt the creature follow. She pulled the blade out and saw it was built for a child. Perfect for her.

Saige whirled around, lifting the sword as high as she could. Her limbs shook as she flung it into a sweeping motion. Her mark hit true, sliding across the creature’s midriff. She whirled it the other way, but the creature expected her. It ducked, but allowed her to stumble past it and avoid being cornered.

The creature turned around, a bit slower. The first strike had been enough at least. Even though the sword was small, she clutched the hilt with both hands and bent her knees like she’d seen Conor do. It swayed in her grip.

The creature ran towards her, screaming louder than before. Saige hurled the sword in its direction. The tip struck its cheek, sliding across a mangled ear. It stumbled once again. Saige launched the sword forward with all her strength, aiming for the gut.