26. Morgan

The dragon-snake monsterlunges at us with a ferocity that turns my blood to ice, its teeth ready to rip us to shreds so it can assumedly eat us alive.

“The Taztelwurm!” Blaze yells as we jump out of the way.

Its chin collides with the ground so hard that the earth shakes.

I remember the Taztelwurm from one of the stories Blaze shared yesterday. A creature straight out of Alpine folklore, known for its vicious nature, venomous bite, and poison breath.

Luckily, the collision with the ground seems to have startled it for a few seconds. And our packs are too cumbersome to keep on our backs, so we do as planned for situations like this—throw them off and prepare to kill this thing.

“Fire!” I yell out to Blaze. “Now!”

We unleash our magic simultaneously, streams of flames shooting from our hands, intertwining as they race toward the beast.

They envelop its head completely.

Fry it, I think, pushing more and more magic at it. Die.

But when the smoke clears, my heart sinks.

The Taztelwurm is unscathed, its scales glistening in the moonlight, a smirk almost evident on its monstrous face.

“It’s not working!” I shout, and the creature lunges again, faster this time, its tail whipping through the air like a lethal weapon.

I leap to the side, narrowly avoiding being crushed.

Blaze blasts the monster’s face with fire again, blinding it for a few seconds.

“I’ll distract,” he says to me. “You get to its belly and stab.”

As if to show what he means, Blaze aims another stream of fire at the monster—into its mouth this time.

I reach for my magic, let it erupt in flames around me, and teleport to the underside of the wurm—right at its center where its head and tail hopefully can’t reach.

Then, I reach for my dagger, gather my strength, and drive the blade through its thick, reptilian skin.

I don’t take time to admire my work after pulling out the weapon. Instead, I fire travel to the opposite side of its body, closer to its tail end than before, and stab it in the underside again.

It’s a good thing I teleported again, because its sharp tail slices through the air where I was previously standing.

I can’t stay in one place for too long.

So, I fire travel a few more times, stabbing the monster’s underbelly with everything I’ve got. As I do, I pray that the fact that it hasn’t attacked me with its head yet means Blaze is still holding it off.

But fire travel is one of the most consuming ways witches can use magic. I can’t keep this up forever. Especially because I have no idea how badly my dagger is injuring the thing.

Maybe it’s doing nothing. If so, I need to stop wasting my time and energy, and try another approach.

Suddenly, Blaze screams so loudly that the sound pierces the night.

In a blink, I fire travel to help him. But without a clear idea of what’s going on up there, I arrive in a prime spot for the wurm to come down at me with its jaw open, ready to bite.

Fueled by fear, I flash away in a burst of fire.

A second before disappearing, a sharp pain slices through my forearm.

When I land on the ground about twenty feet away, I see it. A puncture mark on my skin. It’s not deep, but it burns in a way that fire never could.

The poison.

The Tatzelwurm’s poison is in me.

Blaze releases an anguished cry and blasts the monster with more fire than ever.

He thinks I’m dead, I realize. To him, it looked like that thing chomped down on me and swallowed me whole.

Blaze’s attacks aren’t working. It doesn’t seem like my stab wounds did anything to the wurm’s body. The poison continues to burn my arm, crawling beyond my elbow and up my bicep, eating away my blood and bones.

If it burns this much right now, what’s going to happen when it reaches my heart?

It’s going to kill me, I realize. If I don’t get this poison out of me, then that’s it. I’m done.

But I don’t know how to get it out of me, or if it’s possible to get it out of me at all.

And I won’t leave Blaze to kill this thing on his own.

So, I focus, visualizing the top of the wurm’s head. Fire travel takes more than just power. It takes will, and right now, mine is fueled by desperation, determination, and the searing pain in my left arm.

I have one shot at this.

Now.

In a burst of flames, I teleport to the top of the monster’s head, holding onto one of the spikes coming out of it with my good arm to balance.

Blaze is about to shoot more fire at it.

But shock fills his eyes when he sees me, and he pulls back his magic. Not like fire could actually kill me, but I suppose he’s acting on instinct by not lighting me up in a blaze of glory.

Without fire being blasted at it, it’s not going to be long until the monster reorients itself and launches at Blaze.

So, taking a deep breath, I let go of the spike, reach for my dagger with my good arm, and singlehandedly plunge it into the space between the beast’s eyes.

The Taztelwurm lets out an ear-splitting shriek that echoes off the mountains and collapses, flinging me off its head and sending me rolling a few times on the ground.

Then, silence.

Blaze rushes over, falling to his knees beside me. “Morgan,” he says, his voice getting stuck in his throat when he speaks my name. “You’re alive.”

I push myself up with my good arm, crying out as I do.

The poison in my other arm is almost to my shoulder now. The pain is a living thing, wrapping its tendrils around my thoughts, squeezing until it’s all I can focus on.

Blaze’s eyes widen as he sees my ripped sleeve, the puncture mark on my skin, and the darkened veins around it. “Poison,” he realizes, and he reaches to inspect it, but I pull away.

“Don’t touch it,” I hiss. “You can’t risk it. You don’t know what touching it will do to you.”

“We need to get it out of you,” he says. “Maybe I can squeeze it out. Or burn it out. Or… something.” He scans the area around us, desperate, as if something might pop out of the ground that will heal me.

“It’s burning me from the inside.” Sweat drips down my face, and I somehow manage to not cry out again as the poison continues its deadly journey to my center. “It hurts so much. I think it’s going to kill me.”

Suddenly, I realize it’s not only sweat running down my face.

It’s also tears.

“No,” Blaze snaps, refusing to accept it. “You’re one of the most powerful witches in the world. It’s only a scratch. You can fight it.”

“I can’t.” Despite the agony, I keep my voice steady and meet his gaze with as much focus as I can muster. “But you can.”