Legend of the White Witch {#Wattys2016}

Chapter 25

"No!"

But no amount of screaming stops the fatoris from taking her.

No amount of screaming saves her.

And no amount of screaming prevents the familiar waves of self-loathing that flood in the second she disappears in a swirl of black.

I couldn't save her.

"A-Alec?"

The dark fairies have her.

"Alec?"

And it's all my fault.

"Alec!" I finally recognize the voice as the boy's and notice his little hand on my shoulder. I've fallen to my knees.

"Go home," I order, shaking. I don't want to cry in front of a child. When he doesn't move, I stand and yell the order at him. He stumbles backward, looking afraid, and I instantly regret snapping at him. But I can't worry about him now.

Drawing my sword, I turn and charge into the tunnel, trusting Max to find his own way back and relishing in the fury that drives my feet faster and faster. I use my free hand to guide my way through the blackness and within minutes I emerge from the cave and into the moonlight.

I spin around wildly, my heart thumping loudly in my ears. I can still save her. The fatoris have a short teleport range and it takes most of their energy—so they're still nearby. Although I wouldn't mind finding Peter along the way, I think with an angry brandish of my sword. I knew he couldn't be trusted.

I turn to the north and fly into the hills leading toward the tallest mountain. I'm coming, Edlyn.

*****

The sun is signaling that it's midday when I find Peter. I hadn't been looking for him; I'd been flying high above the mountain range, not caring if I was seen, and looking for a head of white hair. But after an exhausting night of searching to no avail, I was glad to find him. More than glad, in fact. I was ecstatic for the chance to kill him.

I spot him far below heading north across one of the smaller mountains. His hair blends with the ash covered ground so that I almost don't notice him, but my eyes catch the glint of sunlight off of his chain armor. I dive without even thinking, my hand going to draw my sword automatically.

My shadow alerts him to my presence seconds before I drive him through with my sword. He sidesteps me just in time, drawing his own sword as he does. Fresh, hot rage courses through me and I begin to slash mercilessly at him over and over as soon as my feet touch the ground. I attack with no strategy, only anger. He has no time to do anything but block my blows. He betrayed her. She trusted him with her life and he betrayed her.

I yell as I bring my sword down on his again and again, the unsatisfying clang of metal against metal ringing in my ears. But I don't want to hear metal, I want to hear him screaming.