All the pain I had hidden away and ignored roared up with a vengeance. Suffering, agony, sorrow, pain… Istvan had caused so much of it. Even now. Through my lashes, I gazed over the area around the Elizabeth Lookout Tower. Mykel’s army clashed with HDF as more inmates and HDF soldiers spilled from the tunnel.
Simon sucked in as Istvan tipped the blade deeper into his throat, snapping me back to Markos, his eyes wild. Desperation made people unpredictable. Dangerous.
But I was the most dangerous thing of all.
Moving, I gave neither one of them time to react as I swiped up the nectar, the power instantly pulsing in my hand. Power shot up from my gut as if the nectar summoned it, rage taking over as my howl impaled the sky.
Wind wailed through the trees, breaking the branches, twisting in the sky like a hurricane. Thunder rolled; lightning crackled in the clear evening sky.
“Kovacs!” I heard Warwick yell at me, like he was trying to pull me back. Hold on to what was left of my sanity.
I had none left.
All I felt was wrath.
“I love you so much, Brex.” The memory of my father’s voice spoke in my head. “There’s nothing I won’t do for you. You are my entire soul.”
The picture that sat on Istvan’s desk, the strain on my father’s face, came back to me with more clarity. Did Istvan keep the picture as a cruel taunt to me? A sick memento of my father? All the times he made snide remarks about my father’s loyalty.
“Know if anything happens, I will always look out for you. There is nothing I won’t do to keep you safe. Your uncle is watching over you too. We will all protect you.”
My father knew. He understood what might come for him.
Not fae, but Istvan.
Wrath rolled through me, impaling and devouring, the weight around my neck a tiresome burden, which was supposed to keep me contained. Though it was nothing to me. A burdensome ornament. A decoration.
My fingers curled over the goblin metal collar. Muscles flexing, I yanked on it, the metal groaning under the stress.
“What are you doing?” Istvan jerked back, throat bobbing. A loud grunt strained my vocals and face as I pulled harder. The choker snapped, clanking to the ground. He yelped, stepping back.
Wind whipped at my strands, lightning zipping across the sky, kissing the tips of the trees. I feared the power, the magic I felt bubbling inside for a long time. I had kept away because I was afraid to fully accept it. To test the limits of my magic.
What a dark Druid and light Seelie queen could create. Not good and bad, only gray.
I wasn’t afraid anymore.
There were no limits.
I was everything and nothing. And nobody in the world, present or past, was the same as me. I was born in war, created from magic, constructed from a queen, and conceived from a curse.
I walked the line of life and death.
Took life and raised it.
I was The Grey.
The wisps of ghosts from afar heeded their queen’s call, ready for combat and to defend me. The nectar in my hand seared through my nerves. The highest high burned with bliss as it overtook me. Power consumed and devoured. Every broken piece inside me forged together, standing stronger against the flames, never bending to others.
My gaze went to Istvan. Terror opened his eyes wide, his fear tasting like candy on my tongue.
He killed my father.
I never got to say goodbye.
He took Andris from me.
The deep betrayal, grief, and anger carved into my chest. He destroyed the best part of me. Took my family, my security, home… love. Ling, Maddox, Nora, Albert, Zuz—he took them all by his hand or mine by force. So much death, torture, and agony originated from him. He conditioned me to become the very being he trembled in front of now.
All the pain and misery I had been stuffing away erupted, spilling out in waves of grief. I felt every death and loss over again; the emotions piercing me so deeply, my insides twisted as if they were burning into embers.
“Kovacs!” I heard Warwick’s voice break through, the intrusion only pissing me off more. Slamming the door closed between us, the screams and cries of more being hurt around me exploded inside me. One of those screams could be Mykel or Eliza… someone else dead because of Istvan.
A bolt of lightning cracked down close to Markos, the wind howling louder.
“Brexley, no!” Another voice bellowed; Tad’s bowed figure hobbled up into my eye line. Ignoring him, I squeezed down on the nectar, dropping any barriers to it.
It rushed inside me, filling me with so much power time no longer existed. White light burst from me, the ghosts taking an order I no longer had to speak.
Attack. Kill.
They acted quickly, my invisible soldiers reaping souls, reveling in the pained and scared screams from the victims they claimed, cut down by unseen hands.
Another lightning strike hit the ground, leaving charred marks in its wake, energy impaling out of my body like daggers heading for Istvan, for anything in my path. The nectar seared me from the inside, burning its way through every vein and muscle, cauterizing what was left of my pain.
It scorched.
It destroyed.
And it felt amazing.
“Brexley, stop!” Tad moved in front of Istvan and Simon, his arms up, his voice throwing out a spell. Before I could stop, my magic slammed into him. I watched it hit the old man, funneling only to him as if he had directed it to him, taking the brunt of my power, avoiding Simon and Istvan. The force flung him up in the air like a doll, pitching him back into the dirt. His body spread out on the ground, just as my mother had done twenty years before, twisting his body with black magic.
Like a slap, the trance I was in shattered into pieces, breaking over me with awareness and horror. What was I just about to do? Simon was an innocent child, and I hadn’t even thought past my hate for Istvan. Tad protected him.
“Tad?” I whispered his name, his form not moving.
Inching closer, air locked in my lungs. His eyes were open, but they did not blink. They stared vacantly at the sky.
“Oh. Gods. No. Tad!” I heard myself cry out, my body no longer able to hold me up, the nectar falling from my hands in a dull, charred lump. Crawling over the ground to him, I knew already. I felt it.
Emptiness.
“No!” Warwick bellowed behind me, and I twisted enough to see him, Istvan already escaping into the forest with Simon, Warwick disappearing after them.
I could no longer feel Warwick. The connection was scorched, leaving me empty. Cold. Floating in darkness without an anchor. Full of guilt, rage, devastation, and terror.
Staring down at Tad, his empty eyes gazed blankly up at the sky. Absent of life. Of the power which was woven in the earth, his life older than the trees next to us. He had lived thousands of years. My friend. My companion in Halálház.
Now he was gone.
Because of me.
He saved Simon’s life, protected him.
From me.
I killed him.
“Oh, gods…” I scrambled back on my feet with a sob, devastated at the truth of what I had done, what I was capable of.
Sounds drew my attention up. Only handfuls of people still stood, staring down in shock at the dead bodies scattered across the terrain. My attention fell on dozens and dozens. I recognized one of the dead near me. Jan, the grumpy coffee guy at Povstat. Dead. Without a mark on his body.
My hand slapped over my mouth as I stepped back in utter horror. My call to attack didn’t discriminate. I gave no order as to who. They killed on both sides. My magic didn’t decipher between guilty and innocent. There was a mix of HDF soldiers, Povstat soldiers, and inmates slain over the ground. Some were dead from gunshot wounds, but most were not.