THE ELEMENTAL CHRONICLE

Twenty-Four |

Twenty-Four |

I flew through the table, my back ricocheting off the ground as a dull throb set in. A groan dragged from my lips as I rolled onto my back and sat up. There was a perfect line of blood that travelled down my forehead and dripped onto the front of my chest.

"Get up Raggy Princess," he taunts.

My eyes slide to Thistle's form slowly. I can feel the itch of anger under my skin and every speck of my being wishes to unleash everything. My anger from my previous morning visit to Bram has only risen and Oris Thistle has beaten me four times now—each followed by public humiliation, and this was very public.

"This is not the proper place," I said slowly. For the fifth time.

He tilts his head. "Why not? You think your enemies will only appear in the training room? Perhaps they'll ask you for a time in an arena?"

The duke had a point however...

...my eyes flickered to the servants who cleaned the spotless room as if trying to pretend they were not here to view such a sight. He was simply stronger than me but even so, I couldn't give up. My fingers curled into tight fists, and I looked back to him carefully. If I could not take the likes of him down, how could I ever except to fight anyone else?

I'd never stand against Erik nor Fionn at this rate.

He sighed, placing a dramatic hand on his hip and giving me a sneer.

"Get up," he repeated. "Or I'll make you get up."

As if to prove his point, he flew out his hand—with it a wave of petals so sharp they could be little blades. I let out a gasp, rolling backwards and onto my knees, before the petals could reach me, I was already up and bouncing on my heels.

"Oris," I hissed. "You're going too far!"

One of the petals sliced my cheek.

"Am I? Or are you being protected by everyone? Have you worked for anything?"

Anger bubbled inside me. "You don't know what I've been through."

"I don't need to. I can see what you haven't been through." His hand was up again.

Tears blurred my vision, and I took a step back. My eyes flickered to the door. This was all too much—he was taking it too far once more and this time—this time he might actually kill me! I took another step, the petals whirled around in a seducing circle. One flew towards me, cutting into my pants. I could feel the lick of pain as it drew blood.

Who was I kidding? I couldn't outrun him.

"Stop!" I rasped. "I'm done."

"No. You don't get to decide that Raggy Princess."

Another petal—this time, it cut along my nose. I let out a cry, my hand flying up in defense. As if I could do the same. My magic warmed through the tips of my fingers but nothing stirred. I couldn't use my abilities like him. He just smirked, flicking his wrist again. Once more the petals moved towards me, this time with a blinding speed. I let out a cry, throwing my own hand up. Veins broke from the floor to create a wall between us but it was a predictable move. The petals just cut through it.

"This time I think I'll cut more than your face!" he called. "Maybe send you back to Erik Yarrow in pieces! Save us all this pathetic war!"

Panic filled me. I didn't doubt his words for a moment. My mind racked for an option—what could I control? My dagger would do little here, and walls would do less. I didn't have such control over my abilities, I was not Fionn, I could not control every ounce of my power, nor was I Oris--I could not create magic out of the air. My eyes shut as dread filled my stomach.

It was already too late, the petals had reached me.

A scream tore from my lips, pain dancing across my body.

"Do not contain it."

So, I didn't.

In the face of death there is always the choice. To die or to fight. That desperation greater than any fuel created by man. I was sure, in that moment, that Oris had crossed the line and perhaps, in some ways so did I. I could feel the petals begin to cut into my skin, and I let go of the careful control I'd been desperately trying to hold to.

Instead, I welcomed the burn of my magic, and gave it everything.

My body.

My mind.

My soul.

It devoured me. Sweet, hot power.

I allowed it to swirl around me—claiming everything in the room without opening my eyes. I could feel it spark through the room in an instant, and in the same instant everything went silent. Exhaustion suddenly hit me as my breath left my lips and my knees gave out. My eyes opened slowly, the scent of blood and anguish crossing my nose.

At first, I couldn't see anything. As if someone had dropped a curtain onto my vision, and slowly it cleared. Horror filled the base of my stomach as I looked to the room. It was like a fireball had gone off—except of dirt. The room was green with moss, every inch of furniture in pieces and each of the twelve servants whom been inside with us were...

"Gods," I whispered in horror, bile rising in my throat.

Their bodies were beyond recognition, blood stained the green. My mind swirled, my head shaking as if a fresh line of denial crossed me. I didn't understand it--I didn't have this much power. None of this made sense.

"W-what," Oris's voice whispered. "Have y-you done?"

When I looked towards him, I screamed, terror throbbing through me. Impossible. It was utterly impossible and yet, there he lay. Blood dripping down the sides of his mouth, those brown eyes glossy. Oris Thistle had pushed me past my limit.

So, I'd grown a tree out of his chest.