How Shadows Turn to Ash

Chapter 12: Octavia

The windows exploded. Vaguely, Octavia recognized a scream. She wasn't entirely sure if it was hers or Antonia's, but it didn't matter much. Octavia felt the hands around her loosen as she fell to the ground, shock stilling her.

Black smoke flew about the room. The room rattled. Vaguely, Octavia heard yelling. All she could focus on was the distorted body in front of her. The blood was spilling into a large puddle on the floor, rubied droplets sprayed against the wall. Her father's eyes were still somehow open. His head was still attached but barely. The sight was worse than any nightmare. A curse she couldn't stop looking at.

"Get reinforcements in here!" someone screeched. Octavia crawled forward. The blood stained her dress, but she paid it no mind, trying to ignore the heat of it beneath her trembling fingers.

"Father?" she asked as if he might suddenly turn whole once more. Her mind went back to playing in the castle, her father falling to the ground as Octavia pretended to stab him. "Wake up," she said, shaking his shoulder. A sob caught in her throat. "Please. Please wake up."

For all her composure and strength she had tried to rip from the depths of her heart, it only took one stroke of an axe to bring her to her knees.

It was hard to say how long Octavia might have stayed there, staring at a corpse, if the smoke hadn't begun to mix with the blood. It turned a marbling red so that Octavia looked up in confusion.

A new wave of soldiers had entered the room, most with magic, others with weapons. All were pointed at her sister.

"Antonia-" Octavia managed, stumbling up. A man raised dark green hands, and the stone suddenly morphed into something much softer. Antonia's feet sunk into the rock. Before she could pull out, the stone hardened once more.

"Octavia!" she called, voice rising an octave. Her black smoke was still there, but she clearly didn't know how to use it. Antonia brought her hands down against her new bindings. The blackness began to crack the stone, but an arrow shot beside her, making her jerk away.

"Stop it!" Octavia shouted. She spied the guard with the weapon and launched herself at him, tackling him to the ground. More shouts followed. "Don't hurt her-"

"Witch-"

"-kind of magic is this?"

"Cursed!"

"No!" Octavia screamed. It was a useless word. How many times had she yelled it? How many times had they listened? She stood up, but someone yanked her back. "She was born with it. She doesn't know how to use it-"

The castle shuddered. Soldiers with earth magic raised their hands to steady the stone. Someone with wind magic blew Antonia's smoke away before there was another crack.

"ENOUGH!"

Nema appeared, robes ripped and hair disheveled as she shielded Antonia from additional attacks. Her voice echoed, halting the entire room as she held out her hands. Friedrich still had his axe in his hand. Octavia felt a surge of fury at the sight of it. Before she could rip it from his hands, Nema spoke again.

"You cannot hurt her," Nema said sternly. Octavia got up, knowing that while Nema's words had weight to Romanovians, the Dualians wouldn't care to listen to a druid. Octavia's hands searched for the nearest weapon, but strangely enough, no Dualian went near Antonia. They had all backed away, whispering to one another with confused mutters. A few watched with bright eyes, while others looked far more wary.

The Romanovians, on the other hand, burst into shouts of objection at Nema's declaration.

"She has black magic!" Nema continued. "The only known black magic is what was said in Htraeh's prophecy. You cannot kill her. Keep her trapped here. Sell her to Htraeh. Use her as a hostage for a trade agreement. Do what you will, but the spirits have given her this magic for a reason. I suspect Htraeh's gods also had a hand in it." Nema's eyes flicked around the room with no room for argument. "But you cannot kill her."

Nobody spoke. No weapons fell away, but Nema didn't need any acknowledgment. She turned away, checking the back of Antonia's skull for injury before asking for one of the guards to help move her.

"That isn't true."

Nema looked over her shoulder, expression hardening as one of the Dualians stepped forward. A new tension crackled over the room. The man who had spoken held out an arm, showing a black line that went from his wrist across his forearm.

"Htraeheans aren't the only ones with a prophecy of black magic."

"What?" Nema asked, brows furrowing. She looked at Friedrich, confusion melting into concern. "What are you talking about? Don't touch her," she added sharply when the man took another step forward. Antonia barely looked at any of them, head lolling against Nema's arm as her eyes flickered open and closed again.

"Life's Envoy," someone whispered. Octavia turned. Dainn had mentioned Death's Envoy. She didn't know what either of those words meant. 

Friedrich swallowed. His gaze was latched on Antonia, jaw clenched and eyes wide. If Octavia didn't know any better, she would say a brief flicker of fear crossed his face. It was almost as if he had seen a ghost.

"Get her out of here," he said to Nema. His gaze moved to Octavia. "Get them both out of here. Now."

A revolutionary grabbed Octavia's arm. A few more Dualians looked at her, each growing more agitated as the revolutionary pulled her. "Let me go," Octavia said and glanced again at her father's body. All at once, she was tired. Too tired to move. Too tired to even think. "Let me go," she whispered and let herself be pushed out the door.