“You see, you’re quite outnumbered,” the guards' leader said. “The General has no desire to harm you so long as you come willingly.”

Mona looked at him for a moment, then nodded as if she’d made a decision. The guard smiled, and she knew he had misinterpreted her expression.

“So it was Shatterbone who sent you?”

“We’re following his orders, but he also speaks for the other Generals.”

“And why, then? Why me?”

“You’re…” The demon hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “A distraction the Master can no longer afford.”

She smirked. She was impressed by the guard’s honesty. No doubt, he thought that the longer he kept her talking, the more likely she was to turn herself in.

But he’d made one mistake. For their entire conversation, she’d been slowly channeling her Will throughout her body and into her hands, preparing it as one might agitate a tank of water or stir a glass of tea.

“You don’t need to do this,” Mona said, hoping to buy just a little more time.

“I’m afraid it is our duty.”

“What’s your name, then?” she asked.

“What?” He looked at her, blinking. “Why does that—”

She drew upon her Will, allowing it to flow into the space before her, shooting her flame orbs forward at the leader and conjuring three more in quick succession. The orbs burst against the leader’s chest plate. A blast of flame engulfed him, and a wave of heat washed over Mona. She sent her new flame orbs to either side of him, towards three other guards who were now beginning to charge toward her, an ocean of spear points drawing ever closer. All three flame orbs hit their targets, eliciting screams. For all their bluster, the guards seemed unprepared to battle with a pyromancer like her.

She thought they must have underestimated her. She felt a strange sense of gratitude that they had. But there were still many of them and only one of her.

She gritted her teeth, focusing her Will into gouts of flame that sprayed from her hands like a dragon's breath. The guards closest to her stopped in their tracks, backpedaling to stay out of range.

As they did so, she conjured another two orbs and sent them off toward two other targets. The first orb hit a guard in the face, and he screamed, dropping his spear. The other guard, however, was savvier and dodged to one side, the fire crashing into the shelves of medicinal ingredients behind him instead.

Including one ingredient, at least, that appeared to be flammable. Suddenly the fight took on a new tempo as the guards turned their attention away from her to retreat from the part of the room that was now coated in flames.

But it was soon apparent that the fire would not spread far on the stone floor, and Mona sent two more flame orbs toward the guards. Still, one of them dodged to the side, and her focus must have wavered, for the second projectile missed, whistling past one of their shoulders and then crashing into the wall behind them, a ball of flame that sounded deafening in the confines of the infirmary, but did only minor damage to the ancient stonework.

Two guards had managed to get around the bed's perimeter and were advancing towards her steadily. She released flames from her hands again, forcing them to back away.

And one of them did.

The other, perhaps taking the flame as a challenge or simply wishing to prove himself, leaped forward, straight through the heart of the flames. Even as her fire scorched him, he lunged.

Mona looked down at the spear stabbed into her chest, slightly off center, between two of her left ribs. Her body went into shock, her Will fluttered, and the flames from her hands suddenly extinguished.

The guard whose charred corpse was still holding onto the spear was already dead, but that seemed to be little consolation as she felt the strength leave her legs, and she stumbled backward, landing ass-first on the floor with the spear still sticking out of her.

The other guards, meanwhile, emboldened by her wounds, charged forward. The one who had backed away from her previous spell was the closest, and he thrust forward, his spear stabbing her in the gut, below the navel, as she screamed in pain.

She had been so arrogant…

“You should have fucking known your place,” the guard said, a cold note in his voice, and Mona laughed.

Stolen novel; please report.

She felt her Will building up inside her, wanting to cast a spell even as the strength fled her body. They had wounded her in the gut on purpose, she thought. Those were the wounds that killed slowly.

He pulled his spear free, pulling it back, and she saw hatred in his eyes now that she had killed some of his fellows. How strange, she thought, to have killed so many. But still, not enough…

Straining every muscle, she rolled to the side at the last second, and the guard’s spear clattered against the floor. She felt her Will burst forth from her, not from her hands this time but through her body, even her wounds, as a great flame spread across her skin.

The guard, perhaps seeing the glow that now suffused her, took a step backward, eyes filled with fear.

It was happening again, Mona realized—she was tapping into this new power she had found, the same energy she’d accidentally drawn from when subduing the paladin. Now she was using it again, and it felt like she almost had no choice but to draw from it. It flowed freely, boundless energy bursting up from within her soul.

She felt the energy in every cell of her body, radiant, and then let it out, let it flow wherever it wished—she no longer felt in conscious control of it, merely allowing the power to escape from her in all directions, to be free.

She closed her eyes, for it had become too bright to see, but the glow still burned white through her lids, and for a moment, she wondered if her own spell might kill her. A deafening blast echoed in her skull as the tower shook around her.

Soon, the tower stilled, and the glow subsided. Mona rose to her feet unsteadily, placing a hand over her gut wound and looking around the room.

The remaining guards were scattered like children’s toys that’d never been put away. The bed had been blasted against the wall and reduced to debris. Whatever had remained of the medical supplies had been destroyed by the explosion.

Which was unfortunate because she really could have used some gauze. Slowly she staggered out of the room, the spearhead still lodged in her chest, her hands holding the spear carefully so as not to cause further damage.

She slowly progressed, dragging her feet when attempting to step around the bodies and debris. But as she had almost reached the door, she heard a groan next to her, and she looked down to where one of the guards was leaning against the wall, one of his eyes open, staring up at her.

“Please,” he said quietly.

“Now you ask me for help?”

“I… Please… Kill me.”

Mona looked at him again as if for the first time. She had already walked past the leader and the guards who had stabbed her. This was one of the other nameless, faceless demons who had been near the rear. His body was blackened and charred, though one side of his face had apparently been sheltered from the explosion and was only mildly injured. The rest of him, however…

“Please, High Priestess… Mercy… I understand now. The Void was not on our side. I beg…”

She reached out with her hand as if making an offering.

“…forgiveness,” he finished, and that was the last word he spoke before the fire consumed him.

She sighed. What a waste of life. Before Mona walked out, she took one last look around the room and mentally noted the bodies.

Mona had killed eleven demons today. She'd thought there'd been more, but she must have miscounted. Or some of them were buried under the debris now and could not be seen. When she thought she’d killed the paladin, she’d felt strange, wracked with guilt, because she had never intended to.

And now?

Now, she wasn’t sure what she felt.

She turned away from the dead and stumbled out the door, down the hallway, and into another infirmary room. At last, she pulled the spear from her ribs, then wrapped herself with bandages she found inside a small cabinet. It wasn’t perfect, but it was all she could do for now.

While inside the room, she heard a clatter of footsteps marching past the door and into the main infirmary where the battle had occurred.

Mona heard a shout, followed by boots running back in the other direction.

She just hoped they didn’t come in here…

Mona crouched in the corner, her hands up and ready, but no one came. The footsteps retreated. She had no idea whether these even belonged to Shatterbone’s men. Presumably, he’d only involved a limited number of guards in his scheme. The only problem was, how could she know who to trust?

She crept down the hallway and back into the still-empty elevator but luckily saw no one. They must have already gone to other floors of the tower, expecting her elsewhere.

With a sigh, she punched the button marked Hall of War. After all, that had been where he was going.

As the elevator began to move with a groan of metal, the guard's words passed through her mind.

It is our duty…

“Yeah,” Mona whispered to herself. “This is mine.”

She’d underestimated her enemies. She had been so foolish she hadn't even understood they were her enemies until it was too late. She’d always seen Shatterbone as unreliable and crooked. But this… Mona had never expected such a flagrant betrayal.

Part of her had known the axe might fall eventually, but she had been lulled into a false sense of security these past days. Part of her had foolishly believed it might never happen—that she might live peacefully for these few precious months before they all went off to war.

The truth was that when Greg talked about running away and living in the forest, part of her had wanted to. She had felt guilt, of course, a desire to see her duty to the end. But if she had been free to leave this place, she would have.

Mona had always known they would never be able to escape. She had always been a rat in a cage, though she had for a time been lucky enough to live in a gilded one. It was more than most were given in Dreadthorn.

No longer, she supposed. That was over now. If she wished to be free, she would have to take it for herself.

She wondered what she would find when she reached her destination. Perhaps the Master had already fallen, already lost, and there was nothing she could do.

But some part of her had to keep hoping they both might survive. And there was something else, too. She wanted to show Shatterbone, and that witch Phaedra, that they had underestimated her. They’d sent a dozen, when they’d needed many more.

All her life, she had been afraid of her strength, fearful of causing too much destruction. But there was no longer any point in holding back. Now she was free. Even if she destroyed the tower, at least she would bring their enemies down with her, buried among the crumbling stone, and she felt an exuberant urge to see, at long last, what exactly she was capable of.