Page 38 of Fate's Wicked Oath

Retreating from the spray, Mariana tripped, landing on her ass on the hard cobblestones. Faren heard the clink of glass, probably a loose bottle among the surrounding the wreckage. With her non-sword-wielding hand, Mariana fiddled with something on the ground—a dagger she’d dropped?—but time was running out. The Morta crept forward, hissing a promise of death.

With the creature distracted and Mariana fumbling, Faren raced into the town square with his swords alight.

“Hey, fucker!” Faren shouted, brandishing his weapons.

The flames illuminated the Morta in red as it turned. Backdropped by the ruined town, the creature was the embodiment of destruction and death. Faren knew he wouldnever forget this sight; it would haunt his sleep for the rest of his life.

“Show me what you’ve got,” Faren taunted.

“FuckingFates,” Mariana shouted, coming to her feet. “I told you to run.”

“You’re lucky I didn’t.” The heat of his own swords blazed across his cheeks as he advanced on the Morta, still swinging his weapons in menacing circles.

“I had it well in hand!”

“Didn’t appear that way.”

The Morta leapt at Faren, interrupting their argument. Faren parried the creature’s strike, slicing its pale wrist with a sizzle of flame and caustic blood. A rotten, burning scent accosted his nostrils.Yuck.

“You don’t know what you’re doing,” Mariana shouted.

Faren struck again, slicing into the Morta’s thigh. “I seem to be doing fine so far.”

“Don’t.” Her protest was strained.

“I’m here”—another slice—“to help.”

The Morta lowered its antlered head to his level andscreamed, spraying hot venom across Faren’s breastplate and shirtsleeves. He wheeled backward—not out of fear, but disgust as the saliva soaked into the fabric and stung his skin. The creature snatched at him. Faren crossed his swords in anX, catching the Morta’s arm between the blades—then he opened his arms wide, slicing deep into its forearm with a satisfying crunch.

“See?” Faren called out smugly. “I’m plenty capable of—”

Something collided with Faren’s shoulder, tearing a wound in his upper arm and knocking him sideways. He collided roughly with the cobblestones, his head smacking on the ground. His vision went momentarily black.

“Grinnick!” Mariana screamed, panic shredding her voice.

In his dazed state, Faren wondered who that could be.

Faren grunted, trying to blink away his dizziness but seeing only purple spots. All around him, he heard the sounds of the ensuing fight. Mariana’s furious and primal cry, the clatter of claws on metal, thewhooshof her sword’s fire.

Swords. Where were his swords?

Faren blinked again, the cobblestones coming into focus. His head swam. A terrible stinging heat radiated through the new gash on his arm; his touch magic could sense the poison already leeching into his blood. The sensation made him feel nauseous—or maybe that was from his fall?

Gritting his teeth, trying to get ahold of himself, Faren used his magic to dull the pain in his arm and temples. When his vision finally firmed up, he saw the Morta creeping toward him on all fours, teeth bared.

Faren knew his Fate. He was not supposed die like this, but now he feared the Mirror of Death had gotten it wrong.

Still slumped on the ground, Faren braced himself as the Morta charged.

But then Mariana was between Faren and the monster, deflecting it with a powerful swing of her weapon. Two more of the creature’s small abdominal limbs thudded wetly onto the ground. It wailed, rearing up on its hind legs, high, high above their heads.

Mariana stood her ground, her stance wide and confident. “Don’t ever disobey my orders again,” she scolded Faren over her shoulder, her voice surprisingly hoarse. “That is how you die.”

“But my Mirror—”

“Monsters warp Fate,” she said. “Mirror visions are meaningless out here.”

He stared past her slight form at the ten-foot-tall abomination looming closer. If he couldn’t take solace in the certainty of his Fate, what sort of bravery was left? “Fuck,” he choked out.