Page 97 of The Starlight Savior

She saw what resembled fear in the creature’s movements as it recognized the vulnerable spot. If it had been Conor’s handmaid, was she still there? Or was the mind of Sybil gone?

She didn’t have time to wonder about the creature of the mist. Shaking her head, she mimicked the same movement of aiming the sword towards its midriff. She missed once again. She needed to do something unpredictable.

Aim somewhere the creature wouldn’t expect.

Saige circled the creature, keeping her eyes pinned on every twitching muscle. She longed to look towards Conor. To search for any flares of hope that he was okay. If he was, maybe he’d be able to help her stop this thing.

She shook the thought away. One couldn’t always rely on the wielders around her to help. She was a witch herself, a powerful one at that. She refused to associate with the damsel in distress concealed inside her any longer.

As expected, the creature tired of the slow circles they made around the room, launching itself at Saige. She ducked as low as she could, tugging the sword down with her and swinging low in the air. She closed her eyes, grunting as the edge of the sword sunk into flesh. The creature screamed, tumbling forward. A nail struck Saige’s face. Ignoring the urge to drop the sword and cradle her cheek, she pushed through the stinging pain spreading across her face. The creature laid belly down on the floor, one ankle hanging on by a loose piece of muscle and flesh.

She had almost cut its foot clean off.

Pride flooded her system. Saige ran towards the creature. There was no time to think as she stood over its bruised and broken body. She raised the sword with both hands. Using all her strength, she flexed the muscles in her arm as she drove the sword down into the creature’s back.

The housemaid of Conor’s home. The woman who tutored him, cared for him, stayed behind in the mist to find some sort of cure and was taken by it anyways.

Blood rushed in Saige’s ear. She faintly heard the sound of splitting flesh, cracking bones, and moans of dying breaths. She lifted the sword in the air, driving it down again. Over and over. She ignored the ache of her muscles. The scream of her bones.

She was so tired.

Her vision blurred as she kept driving the sword down. Something wet splattered on her face. She wasn’t even aiming anymore. She couldn’t see where the marks hit true or if the thing was dead or alive. She didn’t care. Moons ago, she had no perspective on what fell upon Opela. It hadn’t touched Brevil yet. But the carelessness and greed of a kingdom damned the whole land. Morphed Sybil into something unfathomable.

Exhaustion swept over Saige. Her arm could no longer grip the sword in the air. The tip of the metal clunked against the dirt floor, dragging behind her as she turned to Conor. The broken mirror stood above him. She caught her reflection in the bits and pieces of glass that still hung to the silver edge. Her hair was a mess of curls and blood. Two long cuts were on her cheek, blisters and burns sizzling around the edges. Her whole body was coated in blood. Her mother’s cloak shined black.

Saige looked down at Conor. His head had moved to the other side, so at least he was alive. But he wasn’t conscious yet. Shards of glass littered the floor. Saige didn’t care as she lowered herself to the ground. Her body shook as she dragged herself in between Conor’s legs, resting her back against his chest. She didn’t know if the glass cut her body. Maybe it did. All she cared about was the fall and rise of his chest, his heart thundering strong against her back. Saige kept both hands on the hilt of the sword as she allowed her body to rest and her eyes to close.

Chapter 38

The sword hit the ground between Saige’s legs, rattling her awake. Her head hit Conor’s chest as she leaned back with a gasp. Twisting her body, he felt the burns and scratches mauled across his face. His eyelids fluttered, revealing dull silver irises.

“What happened?” He groaned. His gaze moved wildly across the room, taking in the broken glass, Sybil’s mangled body, and the jars and tools littered throughout. His head peered up at the mirror against his back. He choked on his breath as he spotted that the majority of it was gone, the portal strewn across the floor.

“No, no, no.”

Saige spun around. Placing her hands on each side of his neck, she avoided the wounds on his face. Her lips grazed lightly over his cheek, her stomach fluttering at the feeling of his ragged breath against her skin. The wildness in his eyes simmered down. It was odd to be the one comforting Conor, soothing him in ways he once had for her.

“You need to rest.”

“There is no time to rest,” Conor stuttered with a shaky voice. “We have to get back.”

Grabbing Saige’s hands, he lowered them to her side. Saige fell back on her heels then rose on shaky feet, the glass below crunching. She gave Conor space to move and acclimate. Wincing as he rose, his gaze slowly moved over the room. He stopped on the decimated figure near the stairs. Sybil.

Creature of the mist, deformed, bloody, and broken.

Saige looked away at what she had done. With her senses clear, she could see the creature’s head was fully decapitated. Limbs hung off from threads of muscles and tendons. Sloppy wounds hacked away, the clothes torn, revealing sagging breasts and protruding bone.

Conor kneeled beside Sybil, stabilizing himself with one hand on the floor. His back hunched forward in the emotion of it all. He turned the head over to where black caverns should’ve held broken eyes.

“She wished to find a cure,” Conor said slowly. “When the mist began to spread, she hoped there was some sort of spell or herbal tincture that could reverse the impact.”

“That’s why the greenhouse was filled with those plants.”

He nodded absently, his back still turned to Saige. “She was testing each one, the same way you were tested today.”

“Was she ever successful?”

“Not that I ever saw.”