The Matriarch's Daughter

Chapter Twenty-Eight: No Authority

Thepa froze, her body rigid as Zelphina's mocking laughter echoed in her mind. The air around her shimmered with particles of dust caught in the sunlight, swirling in slow motion to watch her unravel. Toward the Spire, Thepa glimpsed a female elf making her way toward the chaos. Their eyes locked, concern etched on the Youngling of the Stars' face. In front of her, the apparition's green eyes rolled back, her head lolling.

Behind her, Thepa heard the heavy thuds pounding against the cobblestones. A female warrior was charging. Had Thepa believed the whole thing real, she might have moved to protect herself, but shock shook her body. Instead, she raised her arms slightly, half-expecting a blow to jolt her awake, but no strike came.

The warrior skidded to her knees beside the fallen figure, her movements frantic compared to the world around them. She winced as her knees hit the ground, muttering something under her breath, her hands hovering over the wounded apparition. The elf was already there, chanting, fingers twisting in the air in a desperate attempt to summon magic. But nothing happened. No spark manifested. No healing energy came.

"What did you expect?" Zelphina's voice slithered. "The wicked deserve neither rest nor good."

Despite herself, Thepa almost laughed. It's just a dream.

But the fear in the elf's eyes said otherwise. Her hands moved quickly, lifting the phantom's shirt to reveal a grotesque sight of muscle and bone twisted in unnatural ways. Thepa wasn't an expert, but even she knew the prognosis wasn't good...not that it mattered. It was simply a trick of her mind, another confirmation that the tiny threads keeping her together were starting to unravel.

"It's bad," the elf muttered, her voice strained. "Internal bleeding... cracked, maybe broken ribs. For some reason I can't heal her. We need to get her back to the hospital."

The warrior nodded grimly, her blonde hair swinging with the movement. For the first time, Thepa noticed two sharp, black protrusions curving from the woman's head. With the image, the name Zuna silently crossed her lips snapping the threads of her mind taunt. Synapses started to fire sending rapid signals to her ever-increasing heartbeat. With each passing moment, the world caught up to her at rapid speed. All of a sudden what had only been Zelphina's taunting voice, was now joined by shouts and cries heard all across the street.

"Not a dream, not a dream, not a dream," Thepa chanted.

Zuna turned, speaking, but Thepa couldn't hear. The dam holding her emotions burst. Tears burned her eyes, but she swallowed them. In her peripheral vision, she saw the merchant, the vile man who'd struck Rory, who'd dared harm her sister.

Fire ignited in Thepa's chest. Grief and rage fueled her, consuming all else. Her body moved before her mind caught up, a raw snarl tearing from her throat as she pointed a trembling finger at the cowering merchant.

"You!" she roared, voice cracking with fury. "Do you know who that is? I'll make you pay!"

The merchant backed away, face drained of color, but his fear barely penetrated the red Thepa saw. Her blood pounded as she lunged, faster than she'd thought possible. Before Zuna or Wilran could react, Thepa's fist slammed into his face, a sickening crunch reverberating through her arm. But it wasn't enough.

Again, she told herself. Make him pay. A quick death is too good for him.

Another blow landed, then another, blood and sweat spraying across the cobblestones. She was no longer Goldale's captain. She was wrath incarnate. Fire surged within and around, her skin ablaze, each strike an attempt to somehow undo all her failures.

Had Zuna not seized her waist and yanked her back, Thepa would have killed him. As it was, she twisted in Zuna's grip, fury driving her. 

"Let me go!" Thepa screamed. "I'll kill him! He deserves to die!"