Bleeding Crown (Red Queen 4 Fanfiction)

Chapter 29

Hola! Thanks to everyone who's been keeping up with this story! I was just on vacation this week, and I've had a lot of car-ride time to write stories in my head, and I'm super excited to begin working on my new ideas, and making them come alive!! As always, please like and comment. Feel free to give me any ideas for a new RQ4 fanfic!! This will be my final regular chapter, followed by and Epilogue.

Enjoy! "I'm not leaving this place unless I leave behind his corpse—or mine."

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Mare

As the final drops of the contents from the vial drip down my throat, power surges through me similar to that of a tsunami. Vigor and strength blossom from deep inside of me, coursing through my bones, to the nerves, and then all the way to the outer layers of my skin. Without a blink, lightning arrives from the blackened clouds. Though I can create my own electricity, I draw dynamism force from the palace, until I feel no more. The few lights that continue to illuminate the courtyard flicker before dying, enveloping us in near blackness. Fickle, but continuous bolts of multi-colored lightning continue to act as a source of light; the occasional fireball paired along with it, flying untamably across my line in vision.

A masked Sentinel, garbed in the hues of the Burning Crown lumbers towards me, a torch in hand. Swift, I quickly discover the skill he possesses. Before I can so much as bring my hand up, pain sparks in my abdomen, the torch now on the stone ground, quickly fizzling out. Instinctively, one hand flies to my stomach, the other sending out a sloppy bolt that smacks into the wrought-iron gate that leads to the palace. It didn't miss my target by inches. Feet. Sloppy, I mentally slap myself.

Pulling through the agony, my second-hand releases my grip, this time sending a shock accurately. The Sentinel flies backward a couple feet, yet manages to land kneeling. Like quicksilver, the man is up in mere seconds, preparing another rod of flames. Hurtling towards my heart like a freshly sharpened knife, at an astonishing rate, the torch nearly burns me once more. But at the very last second, I sidestep the projectile, gifting him my own dangers. The Sentinel lands on his back this time, the air running away from his lungs. He struggles to bounce back onto his feet, but to no avail.

"A torch, really?" I ask him, glancing around me to make certain no threats are present. "I've dealt with flames more times than I could count for you, and have been scorned even more." Physically and metaphorically. Maven's sickly warm touch, growing in heat, gracing down my collarbone until branded. His words often even more painful than his touch. You could've been my red queen, his words chastise me. And then there's the other prince; the flame. His oddly warm touch in the marketplace, eventually transforming into an inferno of passion. Then the heartbreak, which burned more than anything else ever could. For months, I held onto that strand of hope- as thin as a spider's silk- that Maven wasn't absolute pure evil, that I could still love him. Yet all that time, I never realized all the love I had ever needed was laying right next to me on that small cot at Notch. And then he left me.