It can’t be…
Salzar stands inside, his dagger at the throat of a little girl. He yells at Madrid in the corner. "Call off your dog, or I kill the child!"
"Please," pleads Madrid. "I can’t control him. It is too late for that."
"Then the girl—"
"Let her go," I roar, raising my sword.
Salzar notices me for the first time, and his eyes go wide. "You survived?"
"Let her go!" I repeat.
Salzar laughs, licking his lips compulsively. "Or what? You strike at me, and I kill her."
He’s right. There has to be some other way. I step forward, holding out my hand, an idea coming to mind. "Salzar let her go now, and you can leave. Now one will follow you."
He tilts his head, thinking.
I continue. "Your men are dead. This raid is over. Save yourself while you can."
He glances out the door, where Tavian slaughters all who remain.
"My men!" he roars. "I need them. They’re mine. Mine." I see the madness in his eyes. This is a man who has just lost the power he so cherishes. The man who has nothing unless he takes it.
"Salzar, please…"
"No," he says. "You brought this upon her." And then he squeezes his blade into the girl’s throat.
I think of Daison. I think of all that has been lost.
And I throw up my hand.
Silver flame blazes from my fingertips. Bright and immense. It hits Salzar and nothing else, lighting his clothing on fire. He falls back, letting the girl go, her throat only slightly injured. "How?" he screams, running outside. He falls into the snow, rolling, trying to put out the fire, but the flames only burn brighter. And then his screams no longer resemble words. They turn primal and full of pain.
I follow him outside, my steps light, the snow around me turning to steam. My movements are not my own. My words are not my own. I raise my sword. "You have been witnessed. And you have been judged. And you will never hurt a soul again."
Silver flame covers my blade.
And I swing down, cleaving Salzar’s head from his body. It rolls in the snow, leaving no blood, the wound cauterized already.
Something stirs in the darkness.
I look up and see the black tiger before me. Its eyes so green. It stares at me for a moment, then turns and disappears into the forest.
Whatever compelled me begins to fade, and I drop my sword and turn around. The hut. It burns. But how? I only hit Salzar.
I look at my hands, trembling at what I have done. Then I take a deep breath, calming myself, and as I calm, so do the flames. They fade, until only wisps of smoke remain.
Madrid emerges from inside, the children at her heel. "You have returned," she says, reaching for me. "Riku. You have returned."
Chapter 12
DARKNESS AND MOONLIGHT
Kayla Windhelm
"Reverse psychology. Works every time."
—Asher
My blood is boiling. I can't stop shaking. What the old woman said can't be true, can it? I can't be the Fire Druid. It's impossible.
I look around at the bodies strewn about. Everyone from Salzar's company is dead. I killed them. Tavian killed them. I don't even know who died by my hand and who by his. So much death. I attacked and killed my own kind to protect Fae I barely know. I killed men and women I'd fought beside. Men and women I'd raided with.
What have I become? I look down at my hands. They no longer glow with the silver flame of my new power, but I can feel it there, just under the surface. "I have to find Tavian. He… he was different this time. His tiger form was black, and… the things he did… I have never seen such things."
Madrid hobbles over to me on her walking stick. "That is the dark magic. The old magic. That of creation and destruction. He has no control in such a state. It's powerful. Dangerous. Unwieldy. He left to protect you, and that alone is remarkable."
"He went into the woods. I must find him. Help him." I need to be near Tavian right now, that's all I know. Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else matters. All other thoughts are jumbled in my mind. I run back to the cottage and grab our packs, then swing onto the horse. I pause before leaving. "Thank you for your hospitality. I am so sorry you were attacked. And for the fire I caused."
"It is because of you that we live at all," the old woman says. "You and Tavian saved this village. You are the Wild One. You are the Fire Druid. And you will always have a home in our tribe, if you need one."
A sob grows in the back of my throat, but I swallow it down. I can't let her words settle into me. I can't consider what they mean, that there are Fae who would accept me, who would treat me with equality and fairness, who would offer me a home and a life. I can't think such things. Not right now. Maybe not ever. I no longer know what I am, but I know what I must do.