Chapter Six

Aspen’s eyes flare with anger at my gall, and her nails transform into claws. I don’t bother pointing out that they’re weapons—my words would be overlooked or altogether ignored. Before I can blink, she strikes out with her right hand, claws aimed for my torso.

I intercept the strike with my forearm, but her strength still outmatches mine, so instead of her claws tearing the flesh of my stomach, they sink into my left thigh. They’re sharp enough to slice through my skin like butter, and a hiss escapes me at the stabbing pain that spreads through my entire leg like sharp needles tearing through skin.

I retaliate with a swift strike to her solar plexus that sends her stumbling back two steps, and she looks positively shocked at my strength, looking from the spot where I hit her to my hand with widened eyes.

Twelve hours of daily manual labor has its perks.

Then, the strangest thing happens. Time seems to slow down to a crawl, and all of my surroundings dim. My initial assumption that blood loss is already affecting me clears when I see Aspen launch at me in slow motion.

My movements, however, aren’t slowed like hers. I sidestep her as she comes careening towards me and deliver a swift kick to the back of her knee that sends her sprawling to the ground.

I glance around me to see if time outside of her has also somehow been altered to a slow pace and am shocked to see that it has. Mariketa is whispering something to Leisel, her lips moving at the speed of molasses. Leisel’s blink looks like it takes several seconds.

That’s when I realize that Hecate must have heard my prayer and has responded in turn.

When I prayed to her for Leisel’s healing, it shortly unlocked a hidden power within my sister. When I prayed to her earlier for help, it looks like she chose to grant it. I don’t think this is a new power—I don’t feel any magic pushing out from myself—which makes me think that Hecate herself is the one slowing time right now. If that is the case, I can’t fathom why, but this is a much-needed advantage.

My frozen shock ends up costing me because a blow to my spine sends me tumbling onto the uneven stone ground. Despite the pain now shooting through my back, when I flip over to face Aspen, her movements are still unusually slow, giving me time to roll out from beneath her and jump to my feet before she can crush my ribs with her foot.

The blood from the wound in my thigh is leaking out at an alarming pace; Aspen likely hit a vein, but not an artery, thankfully, or the blood would be spurting.

Knowing that fatigue will soon start weighing on me, and the pain in both my back and thigh will grow as battle adrenaline subsides, I recall Parker’s advice. I close the distance between Aspen and I in one swift step and aim a punch directly to her trachea in the center of her neck, putting all of my force behind it. Her startled gasp is a choked inhalation, and her hands move to instinctively clutch her neck. Before they can, I aim a brutal kick to her uninjured knee, forcing it backward at an impossible angle, and catch her by the hair as she begins to fall. I leap behind her to wrap an arm around her neck, and with that, time returns to a normal pace. Knowing that her accelerated healing will give her strength any moment, I cut off her air supply entirely.

“Yield,” I demand.

She doesn’t. One of her hands flies to my arm, claws digging in and trying to pry it off, but her other hand slams down into the knee of my already injured leg, those claws slicing into the tendons surrounding my kneecap.

I gasp in pain which is unlike anything I’ve ever felt—sharp, stabbing, and draining. My knee buckles, forcing me to use my good leg to support my body weight as I let out a muffled cry of agony, blink multiple times as my vision wavers and starts to swim, but don’t loosen my grip.

Hold on like your life depends on it because it damn well does, Parker told me. I heed his words carefully and tighten my arm to the point that I know it’s starting to crush her windpipe.

Her claws fall from my knee as her body slackens in my hold. For all their strengths, not even shifters can survive without air.

Alarmingly, I feel my darkest power beginning to rise inside me. The black flame that lives within me and can manifest on my command is starting to slink closer to the surface, drawn by my pain and distress, just like it was on the day it first came out.

Trying to force it down while fighting the urge to pass out and keeping a grip on Aspen is the single most difficult thing I’ve ever done. My entire body aches, stabs, and burns. The fear coursing through my veins is near incapacitating, and what I wish for is a warm bed to crawl into so I can sleep away this damn nightmare. Instead of letting that slow me, I tighten my arm around Aspen’s neck even more, ready for this to be over.

After what feels like an eternity, Aspen uses a sluggish hand to tap my thigh twice, the universal sign for yielding.

Gratefully, I release her, before falling to the stone ground, my injuries getting the best of me. The impact of my battered body meeting the ground sends a wave of pain so acute through me that my vision briefly blackens.

When the momentary darkness recedes, I’m horrified to see a black flame dancing in one of my palms. What’s even more horrifying is that I’m not the only one who sees it.

Everyone in the town square does.

With the last of my strength, I clench my palm into a fist, putting out the small flickering fire. That final wave of pain must’ve sent my powers into a protective frenzy, pulling them forward without my permission.

The humans look from me to each other and back again with shock. They know I’m not a mythic—mythics have a very distinctive energy about them that even humans can sense. It doesn’t take the villagers gathered more than a second to put two and two together—though I’m not a mythic, they saw my magic, which means my power stems from the earth.

To my profound relief, after a few beats of silence, many of them break into cheers. I watch through blurry vision as Parker lifts Leisel and swings her around in a triumphant circle, while Mariketa claps with delight.

I don’t miss that several stragglers don’t seem joyful at my win—they’re too busy staring at me with a new distrust laced with disgust. Most of my fellow villagers, however, seem pleased.

My many years of living among these people, trading, and helping out the less fortunate have paid off. Even with the torturous aches, throbs, and stabbing sensations all over my body, I feel a small smile pull at my lips.

I won the duel. I’m free from the pack. Despite villagers now knowing that I’m not quite human, they’re still celebrating my win. The exile and cruelty I was taught to expect should anyone discover my powers is mostly absent. I do notice the group of villagers who abstained from cheering gather together and begin to murmur amongst themselves, casting distasteful looks in my direction. The majority of the gathered crowd, however, is unexpectedly supportive.

Leisel breaks away from Parker and runs up to kneel beside me. Chip drops from her shoulder and onto my neck at her sudden moves, chattering with irritation. When she puts her hands on my chest, I know she intends to heal me. I can’t let that happen—I don’t want her powers to be revealed in the same breath as mine.

“Leisel, no—”

Before I can get the words out, a golden glow starts to emanate beneath her palms, and a pleasant warmth is ignited in my chest. That warmth rushes to my thigh, knee, arm, and back, her magic traveling right to each injury and healing them at a remarkable speed. I watch as the slashed-up skin beneath the torn material of my pants starts to knit together, and the unbearable pain in my body ebbs before disappearing entirely. The blur in my vision also recedes, leaving me clear-sighted once more.

My eyes flutter closed with both relief at the absence of pain and fear of what’s to come.

Technically, by mythic laws, I’m free. I won the duel fair and square. I didn’tuse magic during it, though unbeknownst to anyone else, the goddess of witches seemingly decided to give me an edge. My flame only sparked after Aspen had yielded, so that can’t be called cheating.

The problem is that now more than ever, Camden will desire me. Before, I was a mere human, my only worth being the fact that I’d strengthen him through the mate bond. Now, I’ll be of far more interest because I have magic coursing through my veins. I have actual, tangible value that far supersedes what the wolves could’ve imagined. I’m ready to crucify myself for the exposure—being released by the pack will now be that much more difficult.

Leisel will have a similar problem, as well. In her frantic fear for me, she outed herself. I can’t find it in me to be upset with her, however. As soon as the glow from her hands disappears, I take her into my arms and hug her.

I do not doubt that Camden will attempt to appeal my win in the high shifter court, which oversees all shifters—even him. The court is the top dog of the top dogs—literally. That appeal better amount to nothing because I won.

The Rockwell Pack can’t take Leisel, either, since she’s too young. I have no doubt they’ll try to come for her once she’s of age, but I intend to spend the next eight years training her to win her duel since I’m positive she’ll declare duelum when the time comes.

For the moment, we’re both as safe as possible. The elation that thought sends through me is vast. “Thank you, sweet girl,” I murmur into her hair, kissing the crown of her head. She hugs me back with all the strength in her body.

Both Mariketa and Parker approach us. I let Leisel go, hand her Chip, and rise to my feet, ignoring the wave of fatigue that rolls over me. Although I’m healed, I still lost a good amount of blood—only rest will return me to full strength.

Mariketa, without prompting, folds me into a hug. “You should’ve told us, child,” she says, pulling back. I see a flicker of hurt in her eyes—Mariketa’s known me since I was born and has seen me through difficult times, so it’s fair she’d expect me to be open with her.

I look to my feet, knowing she’s referring to my magic. “My mother told me to always keep it a secret,” I explain, looking back to her warm eyes. “She thought people would turn on me.”

Mariketa scoffs lightly. “Tsk. We hate mythics, but you ain’t a mythic.”

Parker interjects, “So what does your little flame do?”

I feel my mood darken. “Nothing good.”

He accepts that with a nod, then looks at Leisel. “Never would’ve guessed you were a healer. I suppose I should’ve since your little rat has lived so long.”

Leisel wrinkles her nose in an adorable gesture. “He’s a chipmunk.”

Parker waves a hand at that. “Same difference.”

I glance over Parker’s shoulder to where the shifters are gathered. Camden looks absolutely furious and appears to be scolding Aspen. Her eyes are downturned and her cheeks are red with embarrassment. Wyatt looks as angry as Camden, pacing back and forth. The rest of the shifters look simultaneously shocked, impressed, and pissed.

I take Leisel’s hand in mine, sensing her anxiety as she watches the shifters alongside me. “Let’s go home,” I say, brushing my free hand through her hair.

For the moment, we’re both free of the Rockwell Pack, though the future is still uncertain.