❛power isn't everything. it's the only thing.❜
[complete]
wattys 2018 winner ❧
Lin is a hunter, one of the magically enhanced witch slayers that roam a flooded world. Under the laws of four Kings and Greymark, who rules them all, Lin is unto...
"People should either be caressed or crushed. If you do them minor damage they will get their revenge; but if you cripple them there is nothing they can do. If you need to injure someone, do it in such a way that you do not have to fear their vengeance."
― Niccolò Machiavelli
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It was hard to breathe. Hard to think. Hadrian could barely see the book laid open in his lap. He swallowed against his dry throat and closed his eyes.
Immediately, magic entangled itself around his mind. The memory of someone long dead running her fingers along the books she'd managed to save flashed along the insides of his eyelids. Lila. The Witchking. The first Witchking. He'd only heard of her through old stories whispered to him in the dead of night, told in extinct languages to avoid detection. Witches locked up in his father's cells whispering to him when he snuck down.
Her fingerprint on the magic of the island felt fresh, almost as if her blood was still wet on the concrete. Lila, the gold dust sang. Our dear Lila.
Dear murdered Lila.
Hadrian opened his eyes, fighting the rage that shook his vision. The words of the book still didn't make sense. He snapped it shut.
The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu. Considered to be the first novel ever written. Not in its original Japanese, but a Spanish translation for some reason. Hadrian could read Spanish, but it had been a while. Even if he weren't distracted, there would have been unfamiliar words.
He needed to get off the island. The gold dust itched at his skin and mind, magic growing uncomfortably thick and pushing along his skin.
Hadrian stroked the slip of obsidian in his pocket. It was still strong. But if he had to stay in the Citadel for long, he'd need more stones to keep everything in check. At least two of the slivers sewn into his clothes were going brittle and forming dust against his skin.
The door slammed open, making him jump and drop the book. A tall, muscular woman stood at the entrance. Her shoulders heaved and glistened with gold, making him feel a little ill.
"Zeke!"
"What?" He had laid down a while ago, drifting to a nap as far as Hadrian could tell. His eyes were too clear, though, too prepared.
"Wilson's slaver. The big one. It's exposed, no support ships, and reports say they loaded up at a lesser yesterday. Come on, we need a second vanguard."
Zeke groaned, sinking against the cushions. "Shit. I've got to look after the kid, though."
The woman looked down and noticed Hadrian for the first time. Her dark eyes went wide and she pursed her lips.
It sounded like a trap. If Hadrian were in charge, he'd recommend further reconnaissance. Lin would too, he was sure. No, scratch that, she'd strike fast, violent, and alone and then kill everyone.
