Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30

I don't know how long I sleep. One second, I'm unconscious, and the next, I'm jerked awake by a scream filled with horror and fear. Blinking in confusion, I turn my head. My demon is already on his feet, as is Phrixius, both of them standing near the entrance to my house.

Sha growls behind me, holding me tighter.

Struggling from his arms, I sit up in my bed as their eyes find me. "What is it?" I whisper. There's a tightness in my chest I don't like as awareness spreads through me. My skin feels wrong, as if I'm standing too close to a fire and about to get burned.

It's power, I realise.

It's pure power and stronger than anything I have ever felt, and it's so dark, it's choking me. Fear pounds in my head. It can't be. It can't?—

My zombie groans and lumbers to the bars, seeming to answer an invisible call. As I watch, its eyes change, turning completely black. I leap from the bed and head over.

"Sit down," I order with panic.

"Freya," my demon warns, tugging me closer to him so my back hits his front. "Don't."

"Sit!" I order, lashing out at the zombie with my magic, but it ignores me, its head turning to the entrance, and despite the bars, it tries to leave.

"Necromancer," I whisper in understanding. The necromancer is here, and he's taken back control of what I stole.

Another scream fills the air, ripping into my shocked stupor, and then another.

Tearing from my demon's arms, I grab my cape and pull it on as I stumble to the entrance, needing to see. If the necromancer is here, then that means my coven is in danger. Is he attacking? Are they dying while I waste precious seconds?

Both my demon and Phrixius catch my hands as I rush past, yanking me back. "It's him. It's the necromancer!" I snap.

"I know," Phrixius says calmly, "which means he's here for you. Stay here, where our protections will keep you safe."

Pulling my hands away, I glare at them. "There is no guarantee they will work, and my coven does not have those same protections. I will not hide here while they suffer at his hands. I have seen what he is capable of, and I will not let them stand alone." Ignoring their outraged expressions, I rush from my house, their shouts following me.

It doesn't surprise me when all three appear at my side moments later. Without a second thought, I fling a blocking spell over them so no one else sees them. The coven might be under attack, but me being seen in the presence of a god and a creature won't help things.

They stay by my side as I run through the empty streets. A bad feeling builds within me until I burst out of the last road to find the coven there. They are all gathered, ready to use their magic.

"What's happening?" I ask as I push through the crowd to Agatha's side. She's pale but standing tall. She simply points, and I follow her gaze to the invisible barrier, my own eyes widening as my heart stops.

Standing at the edge of the barrier is a legion of zombies—the same legion I saw within that underground city. They stand like soldiers waiting for orders. Their undead bodies don't even move an inch. There are so many of them, they continue into the darkness of the trees beyond.

"They haven't attacked?" I whisper .

"Not yet, but it's only a matter of time. Where there are zombies, a necromancer follows." Agatha grits her teeth and glances at me. "I should have known when the mask was taken. I was a fool. I wanted to hope I was wrong, but I wasn't." She glances back at the coven and lowers her voice. "We do not stand a chance against a necromancer. Even with all our magic combined, we cannot defeat such evil. We will be dead by dawn." She says it calmly, confidently, but there is terror in her eyes that I have never seen before.

Our steely elder fears nothing, she always knows the answer and the path, but as she looks back at the zombies, she is silent and afraid.

"What do we do?" I ask. "We can't just stand here and wait."

"There is nothing we can do. We'll fight until our last breath and pray to the gods they take our souls far away from our bodies so when he steals them for his army, we do not have to watch or be trapped within."

"Agatha, what do we do? Do we run?" someone calls.

"There is no point. They have surrounded us. We would not get far."

"What if we create a portal?—"

A flash of magic fills the air, and Agatha sighs. "He will block it. We'll fight. There is no other way. Barricade the younglings and elders in their homes behind barriers as strong as we can make them. Everyone else, stay with me." She looks at me, seeming to debate something. "Go, Freya."

"What?" I shake my head adamantly. "No, I'm staying here?—"

"Go." Her eyebrows lower in meaning, and my heart freezes. Does she know he's here for me? "Before it's too late."

I stare into her eyes. "Whether or not I'm here, he will kill you. I cannot and will not live with that. If I die, then it will be at your side. My coven. My family."

"Child." She squeezes my hand. "We will always be your home, even if it might not have always seemed like it. Now let us protect you this time. Go now." She glances behind me. "And wherever you are, demon, go with her and keep her safe. "

It's the second time tonight I am speechless, my eyes going to my demon who gives me a dark, serious look. "She knows about you."

He says nothing, and neither does Agatha. There's a groan from the zombies, and I jump, realising now is not the time. Turning back to her, I drop her hand. "I'm staying, and that's final."

I dismiss her penetrating gaze and the truth prodding at me. Later, I'll confront them, but for now, we need to face this threat. The necromancer is here somewhere. He has to be. What does he want with me?

More importantly, why aren't his soldiers attacking?

I saw what he did to that village, and I have no doubt he will do something like that here.

They crossed the barrier before, so why aren't they now?

It's then I realise they are waiting for me.

All of their eyes turn to me, and when the voices come, it's his in their bodies.

"Hello, witch, I have been waiting for you."

I try to ignore the goosebumps that erupt on my skin or, even worse, the vines within me that are starting to move, recognising his magic. It doesn't care if he is evil. It doesn't care that we are enemies. All it cares about is it feels like death and magic and it wants it.

"Leave," I demand, stepping forward.

Agatha tries to pull me backward, but I ignore her and step away again, feeling my men at my back. They won't stop me, even if they want to—they know better. I might be acting tough, but inside, I'm terrified.

"Witch, that is not a nice way to say hello, especially after we came all this way." The voice is a whip, cutting into us, and the zombies shuffle forward a few steps—a threat.

"A necromancer throwing a tantrum!" I yell, scanning their ranks, looking for him. Why am I antagonising him? I know reasoning with him won't help, but pissing someone off like this isn't a good idea. Honestly, what will he do to me that he hasn't already planned? "Take your soldiers and leave."

After we came all this way? This time, his voice is in my head, dark and sticky like oil. For you, travelling so far to find you? That's quite rude. We are not enemies, witch.

"Yes, we are," I answer aloud. "When you threaten my home and my coven, we are enemies."

I fall to my knees in agony as something stabs into my brain, and then his roaring voice cuts through my nerves. They are not your coven! They are holding you back! They are nothing but naysayers. Where were they when our kind was slaughtered? They hid and helped. They are not your friends or family, witch. They are your enemy. I will show you that.

Hands help me to my feet, and worried voices reach me, but my eyes lock on the zombies now steadily marching towards us with intent and death in their eyes.

He's going to kill everyone here because of me.

"Stop! Leave!" I demand, but it's clear he's done talking.

Swallowing my fear, I glance at Phrixius, then my demon and Sha. "We have to do something."

Phrixius nods. "We will stop him. I have stopped necromancers before, and we will again."

There will be so much death, and we still might not win. For all the gods' strength, Phrixius cannot lower himself for what needs to be done to end this. He doesn't have the darkness and death in him.

I do though.

I can stop this.

My gaze turns the zombies'. If I take them away from him, he will flee, right? I took one once—yes, it was older and only one, but how much harder could it be? Regardless, I need to try. I cannot risk any of my men or my coven.

If I don't, everyone here will die.

He will kill them to get to me. I cannot let them be slaughtered.

I meet Phrixius's eyes again. "I have to try," I say without explanation, and his brows furrow in confusion before his eyes widen.

"Freya, no!" He reaches for me, but I dance out of reach and turn to the approaching zombies. This might not work, but I have to give it my all. I cannot stand by and let this happen .

All the death I feel in the air belongs to me. It calls to me . . . . It is me.

I denied it all my life, but I cannot deny the truth anymore. I am a master of death, reincarnation, and reanimation. I am a necromancer, and these soldiers will be mine.

Taking a deep breath, I step farther away from my coven and my men, so their magic doesn't interfere with what I am going to do.

I centre myself, remembering what Phrixius said, and reach within me to those vines, filling them with my intentions.

Control. Take them over.

Make them mine.

I repeat it as they flow out of me, growing in power and strength as if they have been waiting for this moment. It hurts, like a thousand tiny cuts lashing my body, and I shudder and sway, but I stand strong as they grow and consume, reaching for the zombies. I expected resistance, but the darkness just keeps spreading.

There is so much of it, I have no idea how I kept it inside.

It bursts from me, ripping me to pieces so I bleed from a thousand cuts.

My body is one big open wound, but something in me knows if I stop now, it will be much worse. All that darkness needs an outlet. There is no going back.

I've let it go, I've released it, and it is hungry.

Everything they worried about and told me makes so much sense because no matter how much intention I pulse into that magic, it feels wild, evil, and dark.

Hands land on my shoulders and my back, grounding me. Their magic infuses mine as they lend me their strength and power. I am able to regain control, aiming the darkness where I need it.

When it hits the first row of zombies, I gasp loudly, my eyes opening wide. I don't know why I expected it to be invisible, but I watch in horror as the inky black vines crawl up the marching bodies and slide into their eyes, mouths, noses, and ears. I rip into them, but they continue to march as it burrows deep until I feel the spark of his magic .

With my hands held out, I turn and close them into fists. The vines consume that spark, snuffing it out and ripping them apart piece by piece. I watch in horror and fascination as the zombies split into limbs and pieces, and they fall and stop, but the ones behind them keep coming.

Rolling my shoulders back, I stand taller and open my palms again. The vines seem bigger, growing with power as they hits row after row, doing the same. Sweat beads on my skin and rolls down my body, the exhaustion making me pant, but I still stand, killing with the vines. I don't take them over, not like before—no, I tear the life from them until limbs scatter the grass before us, yet they keep coming.

The veins only grow stronger, their ends attached in my soul, draining it of life, and I sway under the power.

"Enough," Phrixius barks. "It's killing you. Pull back."

The soldiers are still coming. "No, I need to finish this," I grit out, my voice sounding strange.

"Little witch, stop," my demon pleads.

I shake my head, even as my vision seems to darken, and I know I'm running out of time. Magic always has a price—the stronger, the steeper. This death magic could kill me. I need to end this now.

Do you have the means, witch? comes his taunting voice. I don't think you do, and when you're out, I will take all of their souls and make them mine. I will use their bodies to haunt you and remind you of your loss every time ? —

"No!" With a scream, I thrust my hands forward, shoving everything I have into that one last move.

The remaining zombies explode, torn apart by a tidal wave of thorns that physically raises the earth, tearing into the dirt as they go. It's so strong, and there are so many, it blackens the moon before they slam into me. I stagger into the men behind me, and they catch me as I gasp, unable to scream as the thorns once again fill my body. They hold too much power, and I feel like I will implode.

"We've got you. Give it to us," Phrixius demands. "Now, witch!"

My head is turned and lips meet mine. I pour the darkness into those lips until they rip away and another set replace them. I do the same, each moment that passes letting me breathe easier as they take the darkness and make it their own. When my head is turned again, my shoulders slump in relief as more power passes from me to them until I can see, hear, and breathe without feeling like I'm dying.

The thorns settle back inside me, satisfied and happy, leaving me cold and shaken.

What I was capable of terrifies me as I look around at the hundreds of scattered heads and limbs leading to me like a trail. All the zombies are torn apart, their sparks of reanimation stolen by me.

The necromancer chuckles in my head, making me whimper in pain. Hmm, you are strong. Fine, I will leave for now. Consider this a victory, but I'll be seeing you again soon. You cannot fight the darkness that lives in us forever. Look at you. You're magnificent.

I freeze, my eyes wide. This was what he wanted all along—for me to use my magic against him. He didn't want to kill my coven, though he would have if it got him what he needed. No, he simply wanted to rip open my magic and pour it into the world.

He wanted to make me like him.

"I will never be like you!" I scream, even as the bodies around me groan with life, reacting to my anger and horror.

We will see about that.

Suddenly, his power is gone, and I slump even more.

When I turn back to my coven with the help of my men, all I see are horrified eyes, and I know he took something precious from me tonight. I sway with exhaustion, and when I fall, something—no, somebody catches me.

"I've got you, little witch. I've got you."

I pass out right there in his arms.

The necromancer is gone, but I still remain, and I know nothing will ever go back to the way it was.