“Your enchantress destroyed my essence, but there will be more,” Sentar said. “There is always more essence as long as there are bodies to feed my vats. My army is but a distraction. What does a god need with an army? None of you can stand against me—not Evrin Evenstar and not you. All alone I can dominate your species. The humans are mortal, yet we, Emperor—we are immortal. And you chose to throw it away!”
Killian looked frantically around the docks for a weapon. Every rune on his body was nearly faded. He spotted a steel sword resting on the planks. The head of the Tingaran soldier sat nearby, fixing Killian with his pain-filled stare.
“You’ve failed, Emperor. Only you had the power to stop me, but it was always an uneven contest. What do you know of the Evermen? I have lived for over a thousand years. What skill do you have? Only what Evrin Evenstar could teach you in a comparative second. You were never going to defeat me. It was always a foregone conclusion.”
Killian spoke an activation sequence as he leapt forward and shot a weak ball of flame from one hand. Sentar laughed as his warding hand fended off the blow. Though more than half the runes on Sentar’s body had dimmed, it was a puny strike.
Killian rolled and flame struck the wooden planks of the dock where he’d been a moment before. His fingers brushed the Tingaran’s sword, but blue fire enveloped him. Once more he felt himself picked up. Once more he was completely under Sentar’s control, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Sentar walked forward as he flicked his wrists and turned Killian to face him. Killian’s back arched, and his head tilted back as his feet left the ground. The blue fire brightened, and Killian screamed with pain as his clothing again began to smolder.
Killian’s pain diminished as Sentar ceased his chanting to speak, but Killian knew that in moments the agony would return in force.
“I’ve had my fun,” Sentar Scythran said.
Killian’s feet returned to the ground, and he collapsed onto his back, powerless to do anything about his own helplessness or even to brace his fall, the pain in every part of his body so strong he could barely think.
“Now it’s time for you to die. Know this, Emperor. I will grind your people to dust. When I am finished with you, this world will be next.”
As Sentar loomed over him, Killian turned his head, refusing to meet Sentar’s icy gaze. He instead looked past the Lord of the Night’s shoulder.
Killian’s eyes went wide.
Ella stood behind Sentar Scythran. Yet she had changed.
She was . . . different.
Ella’s pale blonde hair shimmered nearly to her waist, parted in the middle, but at her left temple there was a fiery swath of red, a streak that began at her crown and cascaded down along the entire length of her hair.
She wore a plain white sleeveless dress, devoid of decoration, and her feet were bare. Yet though her dress was unadorned, her skin was covered in faint silver symbols, fresh and intricate, coating her neck, arms, legs, and feet.
Frowning at Killian’s stare, Sentar whirled. For once, the Lord of the Night was without words.
“You’re no god,” Ella said softly. “You never were.”
Sentar’s mouth worked, but no sound came out.
“You were simply lucky,” Ella said. She spoke calmly, as if instructing a child. “An ancestor of yours survived the touch of essence. I know it wasn’t you who survived, for survival takes incredible strength.”
“It’s not possible.” Sentar was rocked. His mouth gaped open as he struggled to make sense of it.
“I know,” Ella said, each syllable deliberate, and the evidence was there for Sentar to see.
Killian climbed unsteadily to his feet, and Sentar didn’t stop him.
“There is a difference between power and strength,” Ella said.
“You’re human, Sentar,” Killian said. Sentar swung his head to face him.
“We all are,” said Ella.
Sentar screamed, and it was a sound of such anguish that it split the air like thunder.
“One more thing,” Ella said.
She spread her palms, and Killian saw a myriad of tiny symbols, runes shining with glittering silver.
“The emperor here wasn’t the only one taught by Evrin Evenstar.”
Sentar spat commands one after the other as Ella began to chant. Flecks of moisture erupted from his mouth as he snarled each activation sequence, an expression of hate distorting his face. He brought his hands forward, and twisted veins of blue fire shot out, but Ella’s red fire was there to meet it, and the two streams of magical energy entwined, igniting the air between them.
The two streams of fire collided, and the burning air in the middle pushed first toward Sentar, then toward Ella, and then back toward Sentar again.
Ella’s expression was calm as she chanted, but Sentar’s was wild with rage. First one, then another symbol on Sentar’s palm began to fade. Ella’s voice rose in pitch and intensity, and she added more streams of blue energy to the air in front of her. She pushed with her arms, sending Sentar’s feet sliding along the dock.