“Go where?” He was so tense, the fear so raw on his face it scared me. “Joclyn?”
“Ilyan,” I gasped as I looked at him, letting the sight fade from me and bringing him into a clearer focus. His face relaxed with the change, the brightness of his eyes taking my breath away. “Ovailia is here. We need to stop her. We need to stop them both.”
With the last word, the screams I had been dreading filled the air. The agonizing shouts erupted in a torrent that sent my magic screaming in desperation.
“Get them away from the door,” I gasped, sight and magic erupting in a swell of power that took me right where I needed to be, where I hoped Ilyan would follow.
Ribbons of time zoomed through the space of the stutter in bright, colorful strips that I paid no attention to. My focus was solely on what was ahead—the room that opened up at the end of the tunnel, the space growing brighter as I moved closer. The sound of their screams increased with every moment, resonating with a haunting fear that cut through me, the smell of death and smoke hitting against me like a wall.
A jolt of pressure rippled up my spine, the once peaceful hospital emerging around me as the stutter fell away to a room engulfed in flames of red and orange, painful tongues of fire lapping against the people as they screamed, as death tried to take them.
The powerful shield I had covered myself with was barely enough to keep the fire from consuming me. The burn tried to move into me as smoke filled my nostrils. Clothing and hair were burned away, the pungent aroma adding to the rancid smell of death that already filled the space.
The heat was drowning, their screams deafening, the sounds violent. I tensed in one brief moment of fear before turning toward the door. The old, wooden slab was obviously locked in place by a powerful spell. Some of the Chosen were cluttered around it, clawing at the only exit in desperation.
“Move!” I screamed through the flames, not even giving them a chance to hear my command before my hand pressed against the air in front of me, sweeping them to the side in one quick move.
Screams of surprise mixed with those of panic. My heart raced as my magic flexed with a jolt so powerful I expected it to hurt. The deep Drak magic wrapped them in a shield, my hand remaining over them, keeping them in place.
My heart roared in a calm thunder, my magic a torrent of force as it spun around me, gaining momentum and power before I pressed my other hand in the air. Sparks of green and grey broke off from the whirlwind I was surrounded by, slamming into the wooden door.
The pulse was weaker than I knew would be needed to break through whatever was holding the door in place, but strong enough to seep into the oak, lighting the hallway opposite and giving enough warning to those on the other side to move away.
I hoped it was enough, that Ilyan had taken my command to heart and that he wasn’t still sitting on our bed in confusion. I didn’t have time to wait. I didn’t have time to check. People were dying.
My magic continued to move, swirling and building as my hair whipped over my face, the long, golden ribbon dancing gracefully through smoke and ash.
Terror soaked into me, igniting my own dread for the first time since I had appeared in the room. I let the fear grip me. I let myself feel it. I let it fuel me. Then, pressing my hand toward the door, I released the powerful jets of magic in one quick flux.
With a boom like a gun, the magic moved away in a violent ribbon of the brightest red. The attack smashed against the door in a blast that shook the cathedral. The heavy oak door shattered, splinters flying through the air as the rafters shook, tiny pieces of roof falling down on top of us.
The screams of those within the flames mixed with those desperate to save them in a terrifying panic as the explosion rippled through the space. Bodies, charred and burned, fled from the flames, their movements broken and pained as they fought through the agony that consumed them.
I didn’t know if I was exhausted or not. I couldn’t tell. I felt the adrenaline, the power, and the shadow of terror that was quickly leaving. My magic whispered to me, screaming what needed to be done next. I couldn’t even think beyond the moment, beyond the power. It was all there was.
With the door gone, Sk?íteks streamed in without thinking, trying in vain to rescue those who were left, who were still trapped, only to have their screams join the others as the fire engulfed them, too. They burned, the pain crippling. The sounds added to the anguish that surrounded me.
“Everything is burning beyond my control. We need rain,” I whispered, my own voice echoing what was inside of me. The depth of it calmed and relaxed me as I lifted my hands to the sky, my magic swelling in a swirl of power that pressed against my skin, waiting to erupt.