Page 32 of The Endless One

“I do, Elric. Someone has to see them.”

A wind blew in from the sea, carrying the sound of screams. From so far, he didn’t think it was possible without the aid of magic. So many screams as all the people in that kingdom died. One by one.

And through it all, their princess stood vigil over every single lost soul.

The spell grew larger until it bubbled up, surrounding the entire kingdom of Inverholm. It looked like a massive dome, as beautiful as it was deadly.

Together, they all waited to see what would happen next. He’d never seen a spell like this in his lifetime. It was beyond imagination, beyond reckoning. The sheer size of it was so great that it was hard to even fathom how it was being powered.

His brother had some way of controlling all of that, though. And he knew, he just knew in his gut, that there was something else they had missed. Something that they should have seen.

“Elric?” Sybil asked. “What do you think is going to happen next?”

Likely the destruction of Inverholm, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her that. He recognized that he’d originally asked Jessamine to destroy her entire kingdom for him, but he hadn’t expected it to be like this. Not with the soft cry of thousands begging for mercy while their souls were ripped out of their bodies and fed to one of the worst gods to ever exist.

Before he could reply, the ocean shook with a rumble that had everyone staggering back from waves that were suddenly boiling. They looked like someone had taken hold of the sea in between the two kingdoms and started rocking it back and forth until it all… popped.

The electrical bubble around Inverholm shattered. The entire world rumbled with the spell that suddenly flooded back toward Orenda, and all of them were blasted back in the force of it.

The whole coven was thrust in multiple directions, but this time he would not be the one to lose even more of the people he needed. Elric shouted out a spell, slicing through the water and the wind with shadows that could hold on to every single coven member. He tied them all to him, holding on to them with the sheer force of his will as the spell broke around them.

Then, just as suddenly as it had occurred, it was over. The waves turned glassy. The entire world seemed to hold its breath as though even the elements knew what had just been done was cruel and horrible.

Each of the witches staggered to their feet. Some of them were bleeding where they had struck the sand too hard and scraped themselves, but they were alive.

Then his gaze landed on Jessamine. She wasn’t getting up. Why wasn’t she getting up?

Elric took another step forward, and her back bent unnaturally. Rising like she had been possessed, her body shook with her head arched back so far that the crown of her head was digging into the sand. Her arms were at an odd angle, her fingers like claws as she convulsed.

He lunged for her, grabbing one hand and scooping his hand under her neck so he could try to force her into a position that wasn’t so painful. He stilled when he saw her eyes.

Sybil landed on her knees at her head, both of their gazes wide with horror.

“What is happening to her?” Sybil breathed.

He didn’t know.

At first glance, one might think her eyes were bleeding. She was so arched that the liquid dripped from her eyes down her forehead. But it wasn’t blood. He could see it was his magic. Shadows that leaked out of her.

They oozed out of her nose as well, dripping up her cheeks and forehead as she arched even more, seizing with the magic that was being forced out of her body.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t know what’s happening or how to help her.”

“Elric, you are the Deathless One. Surely you have seen something like this?”

He watched as Sybil hovered her hands over Jessamine’s form, clearly trying to figure out how to help her and where to touch her.

Jessamine gave a little choked sound, and then her mouth stretched open. He heard her jaw pop as more shadows oozed out of her mouth to join the others. She was a shadow-covered mess, like someone had doused her face in ink.

He reached out with a shaking hand, touching the shadows that he had only seen in his realm before. These were the same dark ooze that made up the form of the gravesingers, ooze that shouldn’t exist here. It dripped out of her and should have reacted to him. It always had in that realm. It usually clung to his fingers, ankles, hands, holding on to him and trying to force him to stop moving.

But this didn’t react at all. Almost as though it was… dead.

“I have no idea what this is,” he breathed. “But it is not natural. It should not be in this realm, nor should it be affecting her like this. I don’t… I don’t know.”

And then her entire body flopped onto the sand. She let out a long, low wheeze, as though all the air in her lungs had to be expelled. And then she inhaled. Once. Twice. Three times.

Her eyes blinked open and her hands flew to her face to tear at the black sludge that clung to her still.