Reaper's Bane

The Heavy Toll of Betrayal

Just the sight of those men ignites a raging inferno deep within me. They stand there with their families, basking in the power they hold, preparing to pass on their lineage, and all I can feel is a deep-seated hatred. Hatred for what I was forced to become because of them, for the life they ripped from my hands. I hate them for all the innocent lives cut short, for all those who can't scream their hatred for them from the grave.

If things had been different all those years ago-if my parents had survived and my city hadn't burned to ashes-I would be standing on that dais with them.

Huffing a laugh through my nose, I survey the crowd. What would they say, if they knew the Eldergrove heir was here, alive and among them. They probably assumed I was dead-and they wouldn't be entirely wrong. But if they knew I had survived the attack they orchestrated, they would undoubtedly seek to kill me all over again.

I let myself wonder, if only for a moment, whether my parents could have kept the other houses in check had they survived the brutal attack on our home. Would they have found a way to alleviate the suffering of the impoverished, to counter the decay of our magic? I'd like to think they would have-that they were different to the other royals and truly cared for the wellbeing of their people. Yet, as much as I loved them, as I still love them, I also recognize that they were just as flawed in some ways as those who lord over us now.

I doubt I would have even cared about improving the lives of the less fortunate if my life had followed that same path. Back then, I had been a different person, spoiled and entitled. But I was still just a child-sheltered from the harsh realities of the world and all the pain that accompanied it. Hell, I only reached full Fae maturity a few months ago.

I honestly hadn't expected to feel my magic stabilizing, and a part of me believed I didn't deserve to. I had thought that any attempt to tame it would only provoke rebellion. My unique situation meant that my magic had never been, and likely would never be, stabilized like other Fae experience. Yet now, it felt as if it had finally settled. No longer a raging tempest, but a gentle breeze. Where it once battered my insides in a constant deluge of power, desperate to be unleashed, now it caressed those battered parts, seeking permission to escape the cage of my body.

Of course, there were still moments when it surged painfully when my bloodlust wasn't sated, but for the most part, it seemed to have calmed significantly. The constant battle against it had eased, as if something within me had finally yielded, allowing the magic to settle more comfortably. It felt not only more stable but also more powerful, as if the well of power within me had deepened considerably.

I have never tested its full potential, preferring to use my hands over unleashing the full brunt of my violent magic against my targets. When my magic comes out to play, it doesn't always want to be put away. Plus, using magic draws attention and gives the Wardens the means to track you. Blood Magic? That draws the worst kind of attention-the kind that would lead to me being hunted down, my life ripped away once more. The thought alone sends a chill down my spine, a grim reminder of just how dangerous it is to wield this power.

There's no denying that they would be justified in seeking my death. The number of people I've killed over the years more than enough reason for them to want me gone. Yet, realistically, my skill with a blade would rank low on their list of concerns compared to the raw power swirling in my chest. I know the magic I hold is dangerous and bloodthirsty in the worst way. Considering all I've sacrificed to obtain it, they would have to kill me before I let anyone divert me from using it to fulfill its sole purpose.

Speaking of my mission, the next step in my plan lay conveniently before me. The heirs had finally pushed through the crowd and were gathering in the center of the dais. I shifted forward from my perch against the wall, rising onto my toes for a better look at the symbol they were converging on.