Page 85 of Spring's Descent
“You ungrateful bitch,” Demeter snarled. “Cyrus!”
He rushed to her side, grabbing her hand as he grounded her. The charge of magic grew as the earth rumbled. Heeding Cyrus’s call, the stone floor split and fresh musty soil appeared. Gnarled roots and torturous horned vines whipped toward Lark in vicious lashes. Her skin split beneath their assault, fresh drops of blood spraying the ground as she fought to get away.
Her shoulders bowed as she screamed, her own magic rising to meet Demeter’s challenge. Streaks of shadow covered her body, whisking her away to the edge of the room in a wash of night.
I used the distraction to get to my feet. My head was throbbing, and my ribs were sore, but my vision had cleared. The veil between worlds, the one that concealed the depths of my powers was slowly falling away as midnight neared.
The vast depth of my magic felt like blurry edges slowly coming into focus. Like instead of being stranded in a desert, thirsty and alone, the fire opal was creating a small fresh-water oasis. Holding the necklace over my heart, I welcomed the heat radiating from it, calling to Hades’s power until mine was ready.
Magic gathered at my fingertips as I thought about all of the pain I’d suffered at the hands of my would-be mother. Of all the bruises and blood, of the endless tears I’d shed for her. She’d told me I was worthless my entire life. Powerless and weak. That I was the worst type of disappointment.
All I had wanted in my short miserable life was to matter. To be seen—really seen—and considered someone who was allowed to exist.
Hades had stolen me away, but I’d found my salvation there in the darkness. I’d learned strength wasn’t just a matter of physical power, but of resilience. And Demeter had been sharpeningthatskill my entire life.
With a thundering scream, I unleashed the blast of frost and darkness from my hands, aiming it at Demeter’s chest. She turned just as a flash of green deflected the brunt of my magic toward the ground, the pulse of death magic eroding stone and earth. Cyrus had flung his magic in front of her.
My eyes widened as the scorched dirt turned black. I recoiled as roots withered under my magic, feeling the earth shudder from my touch. Chest heaving, I reached for the heat within me, for the warmth of life magic humming beneath the frigid cold of my husband’s power and willed it to the surface.
The decaying plague stopped. And then reversed. Roots wound through the earth, growing thicker by the second, as thin stalks sprouted. Warmth flooded my body, electricity buzzing across every inch of my skin as I fed the plants.
“Ground her!” Demeter yelled. “We need to kill her before she fully awakens.”
Cyrus stayed routed to the spot, eyes wide as the earth answered my call.
All my senses sharpened as my magic poured into the ground. My pupils dilated, my gaze darting between the beads of sweat across Cyrus’s brow to the hammering pulse in the curve of his neck. His chest was still heaving with the effort it took to intercept my earlier curse, and there was a sharp, bitter scent coating the air around him—fear.
Cyrus was a green witch who’d grown powerful by murdering other witches with Demeter’s help, but no amount of magic would grow him a spine. He was a coward, through and through. It was time he paid for his crimes.
Vines unfurled across the rough stone floor, lashing out under my command. The smell of blood around me grew as barbs dug into his ankles, winding further up his legs. His screams were music to my ears, a lovely lullaby that I’d remember forever.
I stumbled back as a wave of fatigue crested over me. Blinking against a mounting loss piercing my chest, I watched as the vines withered. The deep greens transitioned to brown, the thick, flourishing plants shriveling as their energy was claimed. As it was siphoned into Demeter.
“Cyrus is grounding—acting as a conduit,” Lark shouted, her face appearing through the shadows against the wall. “Demeter is feeding off your magic. Call on Hades’s power.”
My eyes widened as I took in the subtle glow to Demeter’s skin. Her head was thrown back, her eyes closed, but her hands were open and extended, absorbing all the magic I was using.
Lark pressed off the wall, sending tendrils of shadows toward Cyrus. Each one bounced off an invisible shield, particles of light blazing to life before crumbling under each strike.
I focused on pulling Hades’s darkness to the surface, but the torrent of life magic felt like a flood. Like only the edge of the dam remained upright while the vast majority of water raced through the gaping hole. And every drop was making Demeter stronger.
“I can’t stop it,” I breathed as Lark darted forward, each step matched with a blast of shadows. The life magic was building in me, but Demeter pulled from the source just as quickly. Like a wound poisoned by the venom of a snake’s fangs, the bleeding didn’t stop. I was hemorrhaging magic.
Dropping to my knees, I gritted my teeth as I wrestled with Demeter’s power. But it was no use. I was losing.
“Hang on!” Lark yelled.
She flew at Cyrus in a wash of smoke and shadows, closing the remaining distance between them. A loud crack sounded as her fist connected with his face, his neck snapping sharply to the side before crumpling to the floor. She was over him in the next breath with a sharp dagger raised above his head and then plunging through his chest.
Blood gushed from the wound as Lark withdrew her blade. She was on her feet without a moment’s hesitation, lifting her chin to face Demeter.
My world tilted as Cyrus’s chest stilled, the puddle of blood around him growing. I searched Lark’s face for regret, for guilt or shame or even a slight flicker of uncertainty over having just taken a life. Red coated her face and chest, eerily reflective of the ring around her irises, but she was calm. Composed even.
“No,” Demeter seethed as the raging river of magic left my body slowed to a trickle. “You stupid girl. I should have killed you years ago.”
“Yes,” Lark said, squaring her shoulders with the dagger clasped in hand. “You should have.”
Shadows sprang forward, but a flick of Demeter’s wrist had cleared them. Lark’s chest heaved as she sent another at her. And another, each one buying me time as I tried to coax the last embers of my magic to ignite. Tears pricked at the edge of Lark’s eyes as she hurled another blast, one born of hatred and the dawning hopelessness of our situation. I forced my legs under me, willing my body to move just as Demeter cut inside Lark’s attack.