Witches Burn at Dawn ✔

46. Yaroslava

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Mir's lifeless body, pushed back by the force of the bullet, tumbles off the edge of the tower. I hear it reach the ground, and my heart stutters at the sound. I killed him.

Silence rules over the chapel for a moment. Then frightened birds fill the fresh morning air with the sound of their fluttering wings, crossing the sky like black shadows.

"Amazing," Tatya gasps behind my back. "You've done a splendid job, haven't you, Polly? Too bad, there are plenty of monsters left. We can be a great team, you and I, you know?"

I want to laugh. And I do. She didn't call Vlad a monster before, not when she was my sister dreaming of powerful friends. He's the closest thing to a prince we can get, she used to say. "I suppose you want to be a princess anymore?" I ask as she turns toward the stairs.

Her shoulders stiffening, Tatya stops.

"Since our prince is dead." It's good to feel the strength of magic circling in my body again. I missed it. I missed this feeling of control, of calmness the knowledge nobody can harm you grants. Yet, more than that, I missed my family, my big sister, who has always protected her little Dimples no matter what, who wasn't afraid of anything, who I wanted to resemble so desperately.

I don't want to resemble her now. Now I sense the same fear rippling the air around her, just like the day she asked me to move to St. Daktalion, the day she told me I didn't belong anywhere anymore. She's still scared. What are you scared of, dear sister? I've never hurt you, have I?

As she glances over her shoulder, I see the same fear coating her face. Once again, her eyes run over my clothes, my posture, my face. A horrible realization reflects in her eyes. "Yara? How... What have Vlad done to you?"

Done to me? I know what he hasn't done. He hasn't forced me out of my home, he hasn't kept my mother away from me. He hasn't tried to fix me, and he has never burned me alive. "He gave me a life. The life you took from me."

Not everyone deserves a second chance. Not everyone can be forgiven. And after all, if you base your decisions on nothing but purehatred, shouldn't you expect nothing but hatred no less devastating in return?

Another gunshot echoes within the stone columns. Tatya's eyes snap wide open, her pretty yellow dress turning red with blood.

As she collapses, the Soulwrecker falls from her hand and, once hitting the floor, shatters into pieces. A cold greenish wave flares up, stretching its predatory flames toward me. Mom's pendant burns hot under my shirt, its heat covering me from the Immortal Fire. Finding no soul alive or unprotected, the greenish wave dissolves into smoke and disappears.

Blood spilled at my feet, I tuck Nilam's gun back behind my belt and look at Tatya's face eased with peace now. "I'm sorry, Sis. But that's the way of the monsters, the only way to save their souls is to stop them." I never said I was going to do it the heroic way, did I? Some are born to become soldiers, some are destined to an artist's path, but I? I am blessed to be a witch.

And here I am, among bodies broken and blood shed. In an unhallowed chapel, in the place forsaken by Angels.

The Queen of the Dead.

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