Last Stand (The Black Mage #4)(95)

He said it and I swear to the gods a part of me shattered. I felt cheated. I’d fought so hard for us, and now our story would be over. Before it could even begin.

“I…” Darren’s voice cracked and he shut his eyes, his lips thin with pain. “I-I w-wish…”

I stifled a sob in my throat, but it did no good. There were too many things unsaid.

We didn’t have enough time; we never would.

He was dying and my pain magic was fettering to an end.

The ground was covered in red.

Somewhere just beyond us, the cave gave a shuddering groan.

And then the final part collapsed.

An avalanche of ice and snow.

I fell back, releasing Darren’s hand as my magic screamed inside my mind. I could feel everything.

I was holding the sky in my hands, and it was all crashing down.

“…l-love y-you…” His voice seemed so far away.

I couldn’t even look at him; all I saw was white. My fingers were numb as they clung to the dagger in an effort to keep the world from falling in. But the pain, as terrible as it was, was not enough.

My magic wouldn’t last forever.

But then…

Then my fingers tightened against the hilt.

Darren struggled to breathe with ragged gasps and his chest convulsing.

This isn’t the end.

I inhaled as hard as I could, letting every bit of air fill my lungs as the sphere above me collapsed.

And then I plunged the dagger into my chest. Right into my beating heart.

I gave up everything I was.

I felt the kind of pain you can’t describe. The kind that takes your soul.

I made my last stand.

It was the kind of magic you died for.

I released my blood and my body and my magic to the gods as I gave the final casting of my life.

I gave my all… for him.

I only hoped it was enough.

I wasn’t a hero, but at that moment, I could be the girl I wanted to be.

I could save the boy.

And so I did. And as that last gasping breath took in an intoxication of violet and ice, I lost myself to the end.

And then?

I was free.





19





Last Stand (noun): a selfless act. The act of pain casting (see “Categories of Magic”) in its rawest form. To invoke so much pain it takes one’s life. This form of magic is reserved to only those with the ability to pain cast.

The power behind a mage’s last stand is only as good as its caster. The level of potency depends on one’s established stamina prior to the act. The magic invoked in one’s last stand isn’t inherently logical; however, if the person casting has developed a high level of control over pain in the past, they stand a better chance at invoking the casting they want.

Most recorded acts were performed by mages under the instruction of commanders during war, a sacrifice for the rest. Because the act is fleeting and final, our scholars are still attempting to study the full extent of this casting. It is possible there are some effects and/or facts yet missing from our account.



So this was death.

It felt different than expected. To be fair, I had never expected to feel anything. From the stories of the Shadow God and his realm of lonely souls, I had never expected to experience thought. So the idea that I was conscious and could feel… It was both a blessing and a curse.

Perhaps it was more of a curse.

The things I felt… they weren’t pleasant.

Whoever said pain left you after death, well, clearly they had never died. Because I felt everything.

There was an inferno in my chest. I was on fire. My lungs burned up from the inside, and jolts of hot, piercing agony ran up and down my spine. My mouth tasted of ash.

And then came the memories.

I hadn’t known the dead retained them.

I wished we couldn’t.

More than the pain, it was the memories I wanted to stop.

Why would one wish to live out an eternity remembering everything they lost?

I hadn’t lived out the happily ever after my parents promised. Not even close.

Here? Forced to feel? I was bitter and angry.

I was going to spend the rest of eternity regretting the life I never got.

I took a ragged breath, cursing the hot air that burned down every inch of my lungs.

Wait.

I can breathe?

What else could I do?

My eyelids fluttered open and a blur of color overloaded my sight. Flashes of color and faces. So many faces.

It was right then I started to hear. Voices. Familiar and excited. Some of them were shouting my name.

They were so far away, but they were here.

Were they real?

My heart thundered in my ears and spots danced before my eyes. It was all too much. I couldn’t handle all of my senses overloading me at once.

Time ceased to be.



*

The next time I regained consciousness, the room was quiet and there were no faces to see.

I was able to adjust to the darkness and silence much easier than the noise.

It took close to an hour just to accept this was real.

A room. Not a shadow-filled realm. Familiar and cold. Rough, gray stone and a single window lined with bars.

I lay on a bunk made of pine. To my right was a small dresser lined with vials of all different colors and sizes. Some of the labels I could read; from what I gathered, they were for healing.