“Wait!” Thraevirula spouts. Masaru pauses again. The Elder turns to her and his eyes look like they could swallow up the world with their hate.

  “What?”

  “Don’t kill him yet. I’ll need him.”

  “For what purpose? You have the amulets. He doesn’t matter.”

  “But I—”

  “Figure them out on your own, you don’t need a test subject. Trust me,” he spits, looking down on me once more. “He’s not the first. And he made no progress in ten years—he’ll never break through the first stage. This slave just did our dirty work.”

  He doesn’t realize I almost had it. I almost reached the pinnacle—yet he thinks it was just the last of my angel dust, running thin.

  Maybe I could—

  Masaru raises the sword.

  “Also, if you kill him now, you’ll die too.”

  The Elder now wheels upon Thraevirula. “Is that a threat?”

  “No. It's a promise. Not from me though—your spirit of Clan Adachi.”

  It takes the Elder a few moments to even comprehend what she means. Then, his face contorts in confusion. “She shouldn’t be able to—”

  “She has a physical form now. Consequence of magicks and luck. I sent her to deal with him but, if he dies, then her attention turns to you and the rest of Elders. Then the rest of the clan.”

  Right. Sadai told me about those rules. I had nearly forgotten.

  “And where is she?”

  Thraevirula closes her eyes. The soldiers around us now form lines to encircle the last of the spirits. The plagued also make their way towards our position—black forms scuttling and dripping with rotten worms.

  I spot a girl amongst their number who reminds me an awful lot of Dandy. But she isn’t. Just another casualty of this pointless war.

  Like Kiren.

  Like Sorina.

  Like me.

  A slow despair worms its way into my gut. There is no out. No last minute save like Sorina screaming at Baroth. No Saegor to save us from the Lady. No Hypna to merge with and defeat Thraevirula.

  Everyone’s gone.

  And I am alone.

  Maybe it's better this way. Maybe I can finally rest.

  Thraevirula begins cursing. “She’s heading our way. The spirit is going to kill him.”

  “And may I ask, my dearest,” he says, voice dripping with venom. “Why did you even use her if she had such a stipulation?”

  “You won, didn’t you? What does it matter?”

  Masaru stares at her for a moment. Assessing. There is still a tension between the two of them, despite Thrae’s seduction. Masaru isn’t a complete idiot.

  “Do you have a solution?”

  “I can renegotiate our contract, but it will take a moment. Let me—”

  The ground rumbles and ripples like a wave, valley cracking and bouncing us into the air. I fall face first before propping myself onto my elbows. The witch stumbles and Masaru nearly trips onto his blade.

  “Thunderwatcher,” the beast breathes. He stands in the small crater he’s made with his crash, hooves prancing atop three men he crushed underneath. “I found you. Finally.”

  “Baroth,” I chuckle. It’s funny now. I’ve always had the odds stacked so unfairly against me. He’s a testament to that.

  Maybe I can fuck with Masaru one more time.

  Before the other two can react, I use most of my strength and yell: “The Elder is trying to steal your kill!”

  The Elk turns to Masaru and sneers. Azure fire breathes out from his form in short, dragonic gasps.

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  Masaru frowns. “You told me he died.”

  “He came back earlier tonight, though that was not my doing.” Thraevirula mutters.

  Masaru’s eye twitches. “Do you have anything else you’d like to tell me that you haven’t already—”

  “Does he speak true, old haggard flesh-thing? Do your withering hands wish to steal what is rightfully MINE?”

  Before he can get an answer, Baroth charges. Masaru raises his blade, but Thraevirula pushes him out of the way and holds out her hands.

  “You serve me beast.”

  The Elk grounds to a stop, struggling against an invisible weight.

  The witch continues. “Do you understand? You are still bound by our original contract.”

  “I. Am. BAROTH. Of the Eleventh… KINGDOM... AND I SERVE NO ONE!”

  Amazingly, despite Baroth’s entire body shaking with struggle, he manages to raise his head.

  And opens his mouth.

  Before green lighting blinks down from the sky and crashes into Baroth. Souta Matahashi is here. Which means…

  The Lady lands behind me, much more gracefully than Baroth. She wastes no time and swings her three blades to cleave my body.

  And to my sickening delight, Masaru blocks the blades. He curses to himself and struggles against the Lady’s overwhelming strength. Thraevirula moves to help. In a strange, surreal moment, I’m watching all of my enemies clash over who gets to kill me.

  I want to laugh.

  I want to sob.

  I want it to end.

  Because in that moment, as I stare at Kiren’s corpse, blood running down his neck, the sun bleeding over the horizon, the spirits dying, the soldiers marching, clashing, horses writhing, bleating, that little plagued girl approaching us curiously with worms burrowing into her ears, Baroth screaming my name—

  I hate.

  Hate all. I hate Baroth for reviving twice just to kill me, a boy who beat him by luck and chance. I hate the Lady for using me as a stepping stone for her own vengeance, which I don’t even understand. I also hate her for killing Sadai with her madness and her curse which no doubt would’ve caused my end if I weren’t meant to die here. I hate Souta Matashi for being a scared little coward and taking so long to kill and being the heir of Masaru’s crooked reign. I hate Thraevirula for trying to extend mercy to me and Kiren, only for it to be ripped away and I hate her trying to seduce me in the dream and trying to take advantage me and starting this war in the first place, making me set out to save Dandy and ignore the Boar Ranges. I hate Saegor for trying to play me, for turning the Mancers against me, and probably abandoning me to my fate, here and now. I hate Zyla for hating me for so long, just because of her own fucking issues. I hate Umbrahorn for making me think he’s loyal only to abandon me at the very end because of his damn cowardice. And to think I called him brother. I hate Masaru. I hate Masaru. I want to castrate him and run lightning into his eyes and down throat and I’ll make Souta Matahashi watch as I kill his rapist Uncle. I hate Sorina for making me feel the way I feel and for distracting me and for dying and making me feel…so alone. I hate Hui for abandoning me to my fate for ten years to run off and play hero. I hate Erot and his family for making me feel safe for once in my life—like I had a place to return to, a place to call home. A place to protect. Only now I’m probably too late and Dandy is probably dead and even if I did come back, Erot would hate me and I would deserve it all because I failed. Because I let…

  I let Kiren die.

  I killed my friend.

  My one and only friend.

  My brother.

  And so: at the end of it all, who do I hate the most?

  I see the answer reflected in the plagued girl’s eyes as she approaches. The stupid boy who lies covered in blood and guts, injured beyond belief. Body broken. Eyes lost.

  But he can still do one last thing.

  Baroth charges at me from behind and Souta rides the Elk’s head, banging the hilt of his blade against it. Thraevirula seems to have finally gotten control of the Lady, so now she turns to the Elk.

  And looks into my eyes for a moment.

  I glare darkly at her, and at Masaru, before using the last of my mana to run a line of Aether to the worms peaking out from the girl’s ankle. Five or six bunch up.

  I whip the line back. Break my arm with the motion.

  The worms go flying. Two land far away.

  Two arc towards Souta and Baroth. One of those wriggling creatures lands on the boy and chews a hole into his hand. Souta screams.

  Two slam right into my face.

  Then, they burrow into my right eye.

  And I begin to laugh. Because I’m an adult, they won’t have full control—like the adult plagued I faced in the swamp, who came after me of their own accord.

  Limbs sprout from my back, though the pain lessens rather than mounts. All sensation numbs, surrendering to the plague.

  My body is raised high, bones cracking, worms writhing from my eye. My neck twists awfully to face Masaru, a smile leaking out on my face.

  It's a gamble. What will win out? Thraevirula’s control? Or my hate?

  Considering that the witch has to reel in Baroth and the Lady at the same time…

  And considering the boundless nature of my wrath…

  I like my chances.