Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127026 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 635(@200wpm)___ 508(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
“Because I can succeed, you want to cut off everyone?” she said. “That’s insane.”
“It’s perfectly logical. I wanted to prove that you could rise to such an exalted place, only to show just how far you could fall. You are nothing.”
Kerrigan glared back at him. “It sure took a lot of effort to take down a nothing.”
“Hardly.”
“You make it sound so easy, but your own daughter chose me over you.”
For a second, Bastian faltered. He said nothing, just glared down at her. Kerrigan saw her barb had landed true. Valia had turned on him, and that had hurt him. No matter that he had killed her for it.
It was Isa who had the most interesting reaction. Kerrigan had thought that Isa was the one who had turned Valia into the Father. Except she looked murderous. Anger flared in her eyes, and she clenched her hands into fists. She was standing at Bastian’s right side, victorious for all to see, and she was furious with him.
Bastian’s voice dipped. “Valia was a necessary expense,” he said with no conviction. “She betrayed me. The cost of betrayal is death. But a quick death will not be enough for you.”
Kerrigan raised her chin. “And yet you have shackles on my wrists. You won’t fight me yourself?”
Bastian tilted his head up. “Oh, I have other plans for you, Kerrigan Argon. Better plans than any fight.”
She shuddered at those words. He had thought this through. He wanted it to be a spectacle. The last thing she wanted was to give it to him.
As she was trying to find a solution on how to get out of this, a figure launched themself out of the arena stands. Kerrigan’s eyes widened as she realized the figure was her father.
Kivrin had a guardsman blade in each of his hands, and as he landed on the stage, he rolled, coming swiftly to his feet and bringing both of his hands down in an arc. The blades cleaved clean through Bastian’s arm. The same arm that had the Ring of Endings on it.
Bastian roared in pain at the loss of his arm. His magic surged, and a jet of pure energy exploded out of him and toward her father. Kivrin’s scream was a sound Kerrigan had never wanted to hear. It was as if he was being burned from the inside out. He shot into the air and dropped out of the sky onto the arena floor below.
A healer rushed forward to help Bastian staunch the bleeding. The Ring of Endings would likely heal him, but she didn’t think it could grow his arm back. That would be gone forever.
“Isa,” he snapped.
Isa hadn’t moved during the entire ordeal. She looked up at the Father. There was death in her gaze. But still, she stomped off of the stage and to Kivrin. He was curled in on himself. Kerrigan could hear him moaning. The words were unintelligible.
“What was that?” Isa asked as knives dropped into both hands.
“My legs,” he moaned louder. “I can’t feel my legs.”
Isa kicked one of his legs, but it didn’t move. They didn’t do anything as she kicked him again. His legs were … dead. They had no function left. He might never walk again. Even with the best healers in the mountain, they hadn’t figured out how to fix paralysis. And they had just killed the best healer in hundreds of years. Helly would be no help this time.
“Dad,” Kerrigan said, crawling toward him.
A dagger whipped out toward Kerrigan, and Isa hissed, “Don’t move.”
Guards ran forward and pushed Kerrigan down, holding her so she couldn’t move.
Fordham was somewhere out there with a blade in his chest. She couldn’t see him. And now, she couldn’t go to her dad.
“Isa, please. It’s my father,” she begged, hating the sound of her voice.
“Like I care.” Isa rolled Kivrin over. “I should kill you here, but we have other plans for you too. Right- or left-handed?”
Kivrin just moaned.
Isa shrugged. “Guess we’ll decide on both.”
Then, with brutal efficiency, she slammed a dagger straight through his left hand, pinning it to the arena ground. He screamed again in pain. But she wasn’t finished. She stomped her boot on his right wrist and then thrust the second dagger into his hand.
“You’ll never hold a sword again,” she snarled.
Her father—who, for so long, she had assumed had abandoned her, who she had just learned to love again, who had sacrificed himself to try to save her—now lay helpless on the arena floor. His legs were useless, and his arms were pinned down in the position of a crucifix.
Tears rolled down her cheeks. This couldn’t be the end.
She tried to summon her energy magic. Anything to push this back. Anything to give her an advantage. But there was nothing. She had used all of her tricks. Bastian had the ring. Her friends and family were down. Her spirit magic wasn’t responding.