Now that he was gone, she was lost again, in a way she hadn’t been in a very long time.
It was not fair that the healer continued to walk the earth her husband was now buried under. It was not fair that she continued to breathe when Breno’s lungs were forever deprived of air.
For so long, she had rebuilt herself from her past, forging the strong woman she was today. Could she truly call herself strong if she didn’t avenge her husband’s death?
It was an eye for an eye.
64 DAYS UNTIL DHALIA’S DEATH DATE.
The last ray of sunshine disappeared into the horizon, the sky tinged with a dark shade of blue. It was the sign they were waiting for. Alissa adjusted the final buckles of her garment, her fingers moving over the intricate details. Originally, she had planned to wear her old dark blue cloak, but Olga had insisted that Alissa wear an outfit befitting a warrior. She hadn’t disappointed. The new outfit was black and made of a fabric that clung to her skin, allowing for quick movements.
The long-sleeved top had straps adjusted around her waist, while small silver chains provided space to carry weapons. Her torso was reinforced with an armor that Olga explained was made from crushed turtle shells. Apparently, in Golheim, people used the shells of deceased turtles to fortify armor as an affordable solution. It was an unexpectedly good alternative as it not only offered protection but also helped regulate her body temperature.
The trousers, though plain, were made from the same fabric as her top, which, under changing light, gave the impression of fish scales shimmering along their length. Her hair, now a bit longer, was a blend of light blonde and her original color. She had pulled it up into a tight braid atop her head, the two tones blending to create the illusion of a crown. With her daggers strapped to her waist and her bow and quiver slung across her back, she didn’t just look like an angel of death—she felt like one.
She turned to face the old woman, whose eyes were fixed on her, shimmering with a mix of sadness and pride. Mrs. Ilden not only revealed to her the secrets she needed to save Dhalia, but she also offered her a safe haven when everything seemed lost and made her into the mage she had become. Alissa was not a master of magic, but she was skilled just enough to cause damage and, more importantly, to protect those she loved.
Alissa took a step forward, wrapping her arms around Mrs. Ilden, trying to hide the emotion resurfacing as she said goodbye to the person who had saved her in more ways than one.
“Don’t forget to focus, dear,” the teacher said, sniffing.
“I won’t.”
Mrs. Ilden’s nails dug into Alissa’s clothes as if she struggled to let go. “Remember, don’t let them toy with your mind. You have magic. It will respond to your emotions and thoughts.”
Alissa smiled and nodded.
Silence fell for a heartbeat as they held onto the moment, neither having the courage to move, the fear of how terribly this could go sinking in.
“Thank you for everything, Mrs. Ilden. I will never forget what you’ve done for me.”
The teacher’s tears dampened the shoulder of Alissa’s armored top as she pulled back and moved toward her first battle. With a strong ally by her side, she glanced over her shoulder for one final lingering look at Mrs. Ilden, who mouthed the words that would echo in Alissa’s mind throughout the night:“Make them pay.”
Watching Alissa and Olga move through the capital would make anyone wonder how such an improbable pair ended up side by side. Their opposite features and body structures could suggest they belonged to entirely different species. But there were so many reasons why these two women, as unlikely as their partnership seemed, were the perfect duo.
Their backgrounds, although so different from one another, had shaped them into women who shared many personality traits: their bravery and determination, their stubbornness and recklessness. But most importantly, their strong sense of loyalty and the urge to protect anyone who proved themselves worthy of their love. As they were moved by rage and loss, there was no Iron Claw who would not cower before the sight of them.
Moving with the slyness of a wolf, blending into the shadows as they looked for their prey, they stopped in one of the parallel streets to where Thayan’s marble statue was displayed to where Eldric would be hanging, hostage. It was a perfectly strategic location: not close enough to be spotted by the guards right away, but close enough to use magic against them.
Alissa squinted her eyes, struggling to see what lay beyond the darkness. It was her heart that reacted first, thundering at the sight of Eldric secured by thick metal chains, all coveredin blood and scars, more beaten up now than any week before. Twelve Iron Claws stood guard, waiting for her.
She couldn’t use her magic to end their lives because if she did, she would be breaking theMagic Edictum,and that was a mistake she would not dare commit. What shecoulddo instead was harm them with her power. Using magic against someone for harm was only a rule made in their constitution and not one of theMagic Edictum.Alissa couldn’t care less about the constitution. She was doomed if they found her, regardless of whether she played by the rules.
Her magic seemed ready to act even before she summoned it. Alissa could already feel the weird tingles of magic moving inside her as it traveled from her mind through her forearms and out of her body, into sparkling flickers of light visible only to her eyes.
When her power reached the first guard, he fell to his knees, dropping his weapon to the ground. The man, who appeared to be younger than Alissa, yelled in excruciating agony as his legs and arm muscles were twisted mercilessly by her magic. His companions shared the same expression of perplexity, clueless as to what could be afflicting the man.
The impact of Alissa’s arrow through the man’s forehead, right under the protection of his helmet, triggered all Iron Claws into combat position. But these men had been trained to fight an opponent within their reach. How would they defeat her when they couldn’t even spot the source of the threat?
Olga shifted on her heels beside Alissa, waiting for the time they had agreed she would join the action. Another Iron Claw fell to the floor, his feet twisted in the opposite direction as blood dripped from his ears. His finger bones cracked one after the other until he had no strength to wield his sword. His wail echoed that of the man who had fallen beside him.
That was Olga’s cue. She ran, her arms up as she lifted her axe. She roared when the weapon descended at full force, chopping off the head of the man whom Alissa had left writhing on the floor.
Behind Olga, another Iron Claw waited. This man didn’t wear a helmet; he seemed too confident in his abilities to worry about such details. His gray hair and beard made him easier to spot among the group of soldiers. He kicked Olga’s knee from behind, and she crashed to the ground. His arms enveloped her neck as a second man’s foot landed on Olga’s arm, stopping her from lifting her axe once more.
Alissa still watched from her hiding spot, waiting. The experienced soldier wielded his sword, aiming to pierce Olga through the sides. That was when magic hit him. He froze, as if a huge blizzard had been falling upon his naked body for hours, his whole body trembling as he tried to fight the power restraining him. Alissa smirked. This man truly believed he could fight the power taking control over his body, yet behind his eyes, she saw fear. The truth was, he had been doomed from the moment he was commanded to stand guard in the city center that night.
The fingers in his right hand opened against his will one after the other. The man groaned between clenched teeth, and the sword fell from his grasp, landing beside Olga. His left arm, which had been holding the woman by the neck, moved on its own, and he watched flabbergasted. His own hand was the one squeezing his throat. He couldn’t do anything to stop it.