Evie
Trystan’s screams shoved her heart up into her throat as she rushed down the arena stairs toward what seemed to be an elevated viewing platform, followed by his other employees and friends.
“It’s killing him!” Evie cried. “Trystan! Snap out of it!”
Whatever the creature in the arena was, it wasn’t human. Gleaming white shimmered off it, making it almost impossible to look at. The form it took was hardly a form at all, just an array of shine that reminded her of the sun’s rays descending to the earth, unnatural and a signal that the world had been turned upside down. Just looking at it made her feel sick to her stomach.
Becky grabbed Raphael by the collar. He’d been standing sentry over the scene when Reid led them to the Trench. “Stop this. Stop this now!”
“Or what?” Raphael’s eyes narrowed coldly. “You’ll kill me? Ruin the family? You’ve already made fair attempts at both, Rebecka.”
Becky reeled back, and Evie turned to him, directing all her anger at the man. “You’re an asshole!” She went to charge at him, dagger raised, but Becky tugged her back by the wrist.
“He’s a Fortis warrior, you ninny. He’ll eviscerate you.”
Trystan’s cries rattled the entire space from the arena floor below, turning her ire into debilitating pain.
“I have to help him,” she whispered, a tear falling freely down her cheek. She’d become no better than a watering pot. But tears were a quiet problem…if the sniffling didn’t start.
She sniffled and glared inwardly at the betrayal.
Stepping up, she gripped the side wall of the viewing platform, just as Raphael gave her a genuine warning. “No person has ever tried to stop the creature of destiny and lived. Its magic is older than time itself—it is time itself. Right now, it’s wrapping The Villain in every moment of his life
touched by such magic. By destiny. If you interfere, you’ll get yourself killed!” Raphael was shouting at her now—annoying, since she’d only met him five seconds ago. A new record.
She sighed a shaky breath—but he was right, of course. Raphael knew the magical creature far better than she. But she had one powerful and far more ridiculous tool in her arsenal.
Spite.
She flung herself over the edge of the platform, falling ungracefully to the dirt. She looked up and smirked at the outraged oldest Fortis brother, who was leaning over the edge. She approached the light and the ancient magic froze, turning its sickly shimmer on her. It didn’t have eyes or a face…or a head. But she could feel it watching her, could feel it sense her awareness around the shocked ray of light gleaming off it. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think it a silvered sun—impossibly large and impossibly dangerous. This had been a miscalculation.
“The destiny creature is searching for any ounce of goodness worth saving,” Raphael called down to her. “It will test his resolve, his soul—and judging by his screams, he will not be saved. The creature will consume him and his soul. What can you possibly do?”
She shrugged against the panic trying to consume her and reached Trystan in three long strides, hovering her hand over his. She closed her fingers around destiny and its overwhelming light as she said with a sureness that was absolutely faked:
“I’ll give him mine.”
